Shalom Achi,
I, Ya’akov,
write this letter to you in my own handwriting.
I am sure
that you have already heard about my experiences, yet I wanted you to
know about the changes in my life directly.
What has happened to me and in me is nothing short of a miracle. I am sure what I will tell you will be
hard to believe; yet it is the truth.
What I am writing you about actually happened. As you know, I am much too serious of
a person to waste your time with a made-up story.
All of
what I am writing you today came to be as I decided to leave the land
of my father-in-law. You
know that I have worked many long and hard years in exchange for his
two daughter’s hands in marriage.
During this time his flock, his tent, his everything prospered
under my care. Upon leaving him I had taken my rightful
share and was off to live in the Land of my father. Though, I must admit that I was not totally
honest in claiming such a large and goodly herd. Anyway, I was on my journey to the Land
of promise when our group began to approach the camp of my estranged
brother Esav.
You have
heard that Esav and I have not spoken for many years. Since I stole his right as the firstborn
I have feared that Esav would kill me.
I knew that his intentions were to do me harm so I fled, I ran. Now I was coming face to face with a person
who wanted me dead – my own twin.
Surely he had heard of my prosperity, as I had his. Yet we had no spoken nor had anything
to do with each other for many years.
What had come of Esav?
Did his anger and hatred remain?
Would he ever forgive me for years of animosity?
I sent
messengers ahead of my camp to see what type of reception awaited me
as we approached his land. They
came back and reported to me an alarming message.
Esav and a party of four hundred men were prepared to meet me. Of course, I did not know if they were
advancing for a military confrontation or just a big family reunion. I was very upset about this situation
to say the least. So I
decided to divide my camp into two.
Then I sent a huge gift, a tribute to Esav with the hopes of
appeasing him. I wanted to soften his anger and win his
favor. I wanted things
to be better between us.
I then
prayed to the Most High, the Elohim of my father and grandfather. I said, “O Elohim of my father Avraham,
Elohim of my father Yitz’chak, O Yahweh, who said to me, ‘Go back to
your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper,’ I am
unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant.
I had only my staff when I crossed this Jordan, but now I have become
two groups. Save me, I pray, from the hand of my brother
Esau, for I am afraid, I fear he will come and attack me, and also the
mothers with their children. But
you have said, ‘I will surely make you prosper and will make your descendants
like the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted.’”
The night
before we were supposed to meet I could not sleep. I sent my family and all my belongings
across the Yabok River so I could be by myself. I paced the ground staring up at the sky.
I was nervous. I was upset. I was alone. Yet I was not alone. The memory of my past and the pain of
my future was with me there, beside the river. I could not escape my mistakes, my past,
or myself. Then as the
darkest of night seemed to prevail against all hope, a bright little
light, a Zohar, began to shine.
It emanated from the heavens.
It came from everywhere, yet it came from nowhere.
The Light
was pure brightness and its radiance was too glorious to describe. From the midst of the Light came a figure.
He came out of the Light, yet He was part of the Light.
This man was from the Light and He was the Light. His face was like the sun shining in full
strength. His head and
hair were as white as snow-white wool.
His eyes were like a fiery flame.
His feet were like burnished brass.
And His voice, oh His voice, was like the sound of many rushing
waters. The brilliance
around Him was like a rainbow in a cloud on a rainy day.
Upon seeing
Him I feel to my feet as a dead man. I knew I was finished. The Light placed His right hand upon me
and told me a very simple word.
“Yaw-ray,” He said. This
phrase struck chills to my bones, penetrating my soul and speaking to
my inner self. “Yaw-ray,”
He said. “Fear not,” He said in the sacred tongue.
I will never forget that simple word.
It was with this Word that I wrestled all night long.
For many
years fear had gripped my life, conquering me. Yet, all of this would soon come to an
end. Victory was in sight. Fear would no longer hold me prisoner.
Or would it? All of my life fear had controlled me.
It was fear that led me to deceive.
Because of fear I left the land and home of my father.
Fear caused me to live with my father-in-law and not stand up
to him when he took advantage of me.
Fear was the reason I sent messengers ahead of our family camp
and fear was the grounds for sending a huge gift to my brother.
I was so afraid, yet this man told me to “Fear not Ya’akov.”
Throughout the night, for many hours I wrestled the words of this
man; I wrestled with the Word; I wrestled with the man. Oddly, while struggling I found strength.
The more I fought the stronger I got.
The longer I was in the presence of the Shekinah the more I believed
and trusted the voice of hope.
And so I grabbed on to this man, clinging to an everlasting peace
and absence of fear. I had found the solution to my fear and
I was not going to let go. No,
never again would fear rule my life because now I held in my hands the
solution to my biggest problem.
At this place, in this presence, I beheld His glory and I was
surrounded by a love. It was a perfect love that cast out all
fear.
The man
then said that I must let go of Him.
I could not stay in this glorious place forever. I had to move on. But I refused. I would not let go. I would never release him. Then, at that very moment it happened.
All of a sudden I felt a piercing in my hip and I heard His voice
again.
He asked
me my name and brought to my mind who I really was. I was Ya’akov. I was a deceiver. I was a man full of fear.
Then the
man of Light did the most surprising thing. As I stood with a throbbing pain in my
side, this prince of Peace blessed me.
He spoke a B’racha over me.
He said,
“From now on you will no longer be called Ya’akov but Isra’el. Because you have shown your strength to
both Elohim and man and you have prevailed.” With those words the throbbing pain in
my hip came to a piercing climax and my strength was gone. I was no more. I, Ya’akov, the supplanter, was now Isra’el,
the one who rules and reigns with El.
I then
begged the man to tell me his name.
I had to know the identity of whom it was that I had wrestled
with. But, He would not reveal it. Instead he said asked me why I was asking
about his name when it was my name that had changed. He told me what was supremely important
was not himself but me and the change that had taken place in my life. He said, “You have not ben given a spirit
of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and self control. You are Isra’el by beloved.”
With those
words, the man, the radiance, the Light, the Zohar evaporated. The sun began to rise I stood there at
that place a changed man; a different man.
I named this place P’ni’el meaning “the face of Elohim.” You see, it was here at this place that
I came face to face with Elohim yet my existence was spared. Here at P’ni’el I saw the Almighty and
I saw myself for who I really was and I was changed, I was refreshed. I was born again.
I limped
away from that encounter knowing that whatever my future would hold
I simply would not fear. Yahweh
is my Light and my Salvation, my Yahshua, whom shall I fear? I would later approach Esav in a most
humble manner. Esav’s desire
to kill me had subsided, his anger had minimized, and his longing for
reunion was apparent. Would
you believe that as I approached him, my twin ran and embraced me! This was too good to be true. The fear and dread of yesterday were now
replaced with love and joy. I
was no longer Ya’acov. I
was Isra’el.
Please
think about these events. Surely
if Yahweh El Shaddai can remove my fear and change my name and character
to Isra’el then He can do the same for you.
Until
we meet again may Shalom be yours,
Isra’el
ben Yitz’chak
