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Adam

The first record of communication between the Creator and those He created in His image is found in Genesis 1:28: “God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’ ” It was God who took the initiative in addressing humankind, thus establishing a fundamental principle: Hearing God’s word, knowing His will, is at least as important as our addressing our concerns to Him—and perhaps of greater consequence.

Although the term “prayer” is not used in the account of Adam and Eve, communication between God and the two people created in His image is clearly evident. It should also be noted that these earliest human beings communicated not only with God, but with the fallen angel Satan as well (see Gen. 3:2–5; Rev. 12:9; 20:2). God and Satan both speak, and we must learn to discern between the two. Effective praying is based on what God has said; but it may be hindered if we listen to what Satan says.

The moment people heed Satan’s voice, they throw up a communications barrier between themselves and the God who desires to bless them. Though God walked with Adam and Eve “in the garden in the cool of the day” (Gen. 3:8), they could not bear such close communion after the Fall and their consciences caused them to try to hide. The breach between God and sinners finds no remedy until they, by their own confession, make possible the opening of the door of mercy: “[Adam] answered, ‘I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.’ … [Then] The LORD God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them” (Gen. 3:10, 21).

Seth

While the Bible is virtually silent about any praying by Adam and Eve, it does hint that for a period of time, following their failure and expulsion from the Garden, there was a dearth of calling upon God: “Seth also had a son, and he named him Enosh. At that time men began to call on the name of the LORD” (Gen. 4:26).

There appears some connection between Seth’s naming his child Enosh and people beginning to call on the name of the Lord, for “Enosh” means “man,” or “people,” with an emphasis on the fact they are mortal and finite. By this time it must have become obvious that death was the common lot of humanity. The people of that generation were aware of their weakness and the fragile nature of human life. It may be too that they were aware of hindrances to their relationship with God. Such an awareness is often the forerunner of spiritual pursuit and renewal, as it was in the case of Seth, when people began “to call on the name of the Lord.” Here is another basic principle of prayer: Our recognizing our need is prerequisite to our meaningful calling upon God.

The Hebrew also implies calling down a blessing in the name of the Lord and calling themselves by the name of the Lord; that is, they recognized God’s good purpose and they took their place as His people.

Of particular significance, too, is the fact that people began to call on “the name of the Lord.” “Lord” is “Yahweh,” the personal, covenant-keeping name that draws attention to His being with us. The consequences of praying are directly related to the One addressed in prayer. Compare, for example, the praying of Baal’s prophets with the praying of Elijah:

They called on the name of Baal from morning till noon. “O Baal, answer us!” they shouted. But there was no response; no one answered. And they danced around the altar they had made (1 Kings 18:26).

At the time of sacrifice, the prophet Elijah stepped forward and prayed: “O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac and Israel, let it be known today that you are God in Israel and that I am your servant and have done all these things at your command. Answer me, O LORD, answer me, so the people will know that you, O LORD, are God and that you are turning their hearts back again.” Then the fire of the LORD fell (1 Kings 18:36–38).

The prophets of Baal prayed to the lifeless, powerless invention of human hands—Baal. Elijah prayed to the Lord Yahweh, the self-existent, eternal, covenant-keeping God who had made promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Israel—as well as to all the families of the earth (Gen. 12:3). The practice of calling upon the name of the Lord, which began with Seth, was zealously carried forward by his son, Enosh. It was still effective in the days of Elijah.

Enoch

While Scripture does not state specifically that Enoch prayed, it does indicate a superior relationship with God: “Enoch walked with God” (Gen. 5:22). The Hebrew word halak, here translated “walked,” contains the idea of following, adhering to, and so being conversant or communing with God. Enoch’s communing was of such proportion that it led to his translation. “Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him away” (Gen. 5:24).

The writer of Hebrews expands on the Genesis reference:

By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death; he could not be found, because God had taken him away. For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God. And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him (Heb. 11:5–6).

Enoch’s testimony that he pleased God is clearly linked to his faith. It is reasonable to conclude that Enoch believed God was real, and believed it to the degree that he diligently sought God by constant prayer and communion. He was rewarded by physical removal from earth, never experiencing death. His praying led him directly into heaven, and also into faith’s hall of fame (Heb. 11) for all the world to review.

Noah

As in the case of Enoch, Scripture does not state specifically that Noah “prayed.” However, the spiritual pursuits of Noah are identified in the same terms used of Enoch: “He walked with God” (Gen. 6:9).

The account of Noah leaves no doubt that he maintained vital contact and communication with God. Repeatedly, Scripture indicates God spoke to Noah (see Gen. 6:13; 7:1). In turn, Noah responded with implicit obedience: “Noah did all that the LORD commanded him” (Gen. 7:5).

There is a profound lesson in this for every believer who desires prayer communion with God: Hearing from God is directly related to a willingness to obey God; the reason for His silence may be simply that one’s heart is uncommitted to Him. In his generation, only Noah had a heart for God. With his contemporaries it was totally different: “The LORD saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time” (Gen. 6:5). Little wonder then that God could not speak to such people. Prayer was foreign to them. God was not in their thoughts. The idea of walking with God, living for God, and relating to Him was pure folly to them, even as it is to vast multitudes today. We remember the words of Jesus when He said:

“As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came.… That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man” (Matt. 24:37–39).

Found in the account of Noah is the first mention of an altar in Scripture: “Noah built an altar to the LORD.… He sacrificed burnt offerings on it” (Gen. 8:20). Noah’s altar introduced the practice of altar building. The burnt offering signified dedication to God and exaltation of God. The altar denoted relationship and worship; it is vitally linked to prayer. This connection is set forth in Revelation 8:3–4: “Another angel, who had a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints, on the golden altar before the throne. The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel’s hand.”

Of this altar in Revelation, W. Shaw Caldecott observes:

It is described as “the golden altar which was before the throne,” and, with the smoke of its incense, there went up before God the prayers of the saints. This imagery is in harmony with the statement of [Luke] that as the priests burnt incense, “the whole multitude of people were praying without [outside] at the hour of incense” [Luke 1:10]. In this way both history and prophecy attest the abiding truth that salvation is by sacrificial blood, and is made available through the prayers of saints and sinners offered by a great High Priest.²

By divine revelation Noah perceived that his acceptance by God and his effectual prayer to God were dependent upon a blood sacrifice. The same principle applies today, but the blood is that which was shed once and for all at Calvary. That is why Jesus said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). When prayer is made “in the name of Jesus,” we assume not only the power and glory of Jesus Christ but also the access and acceptance provided by the divine sacrifice and the shed blood of the Son of God. By faith Noah understood this principle when he built his altar and made his sacrifice upon it. (See also Heb. 9:21; 10:19.)

Abraham

Though others before him had true faith in God, and demonstrated it by their praying and altar building, it is Abraham who can be called the founder of the faith. Never in Scripture are those of “the faith” or “the faithful” identified as children of Adam, or of Seth, or of Enoch, or of Noah. Invariably they are identified (by themselves or others) as “children of Abraham” (e.g., Gal. 3:6–9). Israelites who prayed to God in generations after Abraham commonly addressed the Lord as “the God of Abraham.”

Archaeological excavations at Ur of the Chaldees show that Abram (Abraham) lived his earlier years in a very idolatrous, materialistic culture. The name “Ur” may be derived from a root word meaning “light.” The city was a center of the worship of the moon god sin (also called Nanna by the earlier Sumerians). Since this is the case, it is even more to Abraham’s credit that he became so devoted to the true God. Abraham’s lineage is traced all the way back to Seth (Gen. 11). It may be that Abraham’s faith was the full-bloomed flower of Seth’s faith, when people began “to call on the name of the Lord” (Gen. 4:26).

Why did this single patriarch, with a somewhat dubious heritage, rise to such an esteemed and enormous spiritual stature with continuing influence? For two evident reasons: (1) his obedience to the word of the Lord and (2) his building of altars for public worship and for calling upon the name of the Lord. These two evidences of an unshakable belief in God made Abraham a giant of faith and the father of the faithful.

The Significance of an Altar

Notice the references to Abraham’s activity of building altars to the Lord:

The LORD appeared to Abram, and said, “To your offspring I will give this land.” So he built an altar there to the LORD, who had appeared to him. From there he went on toward the hills east of Bethel.… There he built an altar to the LORD and called on the name of the LORD (Gen. 13:3–4).

He went from place to place until he came to Bethel … where he had first built an altar. There Abram called on the name of the LORD (Gen. 13:3–4).

Each instance of building an altar anticipates a meeting between humanity and divinity. In the previous passages notice that Abraham “called on the name of the LORD” at the site of the altar, indicating his awareness that in building an altar he was making preparation for a special relationship with God. Abraham built another altar in Hebron (Gen. 13:18) and another, his most memorable, on Mount Moriah: “When Abraham and his entourage reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood” (Gen. 22:9).

Hearing the word of the Lord, worshiping at an altar, and showing faith in Almighty God are inseparable in the Old Testament narratives. There can be physical altars without a corresponding faith in the supernatural, but it is doubtful there can be genuine faith without hearing the word of the Lord (Rom. 10:17) and setting apart a meeting place with Him.

Abraham is identified by God as “my friend” (Isa. 41:8). Friendship indicates close relationship and communion. In studying the life of this remarkable patriarch, one is struck with the evidences of an ongoing intimacy with God. Note the interaction between God and Abraham in this passage:

After this, the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision: “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.” But Abram said, “O Sovereign LORD, what can you give me since I remain childless and the one who will inherit my estate is Eliezer of Damascus?” And Abram said, “You have given me no children; so a servant in my household will be my heir.” Then the word of the LORD came to him: “This man will not be your heir, but a son coming from your own body will be your heir” (Gen. 15:1–4).

When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the Lord appeared to him and said, “I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers.” Abram fell face down, and God said to him, “As for me, this is my covenant with you …” (Gen. 17:1–3).

Note the signposts of communion between Abraham and God in later verses of Genesis 17:

“God also said to Abraham …” (v. 15).

“Abraham said to God …” (v. 18).

“Then God said …” (v. 19).

“When he had finished speaking with Abraham, God went up from him” (v. 22).

Out of intimacy with God sprang Abraham’s impassioned intercession for Sodom and Gomorrah. He maintained such a vital relationship with God that God was able to share with Abraham His very heart regarding those two cities: “The LORD said, ‘Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?’ ” (Gen. 18:17). And because of this intimacy Abraham became the mighty intercessor (Gen. 18:23–33). And so was launched the practice of intercession, a ministry reinforced by New Testament instruction that makes such a ministry incumbent on God’s servants even today.

Abraham’s intercessions, though they did not prevent God’s wrath falling upon those extremely wicked cities, did avail to deliver Lot and his family: “When God destroyed the cities of the plain, he remembered Abraham, and he brought Lot out of the catastrophe” (Gen. 19:29). The lesson for us is this: Meaningful intercession comes only from a heart which through intimacy with the divine senses the burden of God’s heart.

When Abraham Did Not Pray

Though Abraham was the epitome of a person of faith, he still bore the burden of his own humanity. While he could and did rise to great heights in his relationship with God, he was nonetheless vulnerable to failure when he did not pray. More than once he failed because he presumed and leaned on his own resources. With Sarah his wife, Abraham tried to fulfill God’s promise through human means: “She said to Abram, … ‘Go, sleep with my maidservant [Hagar]; perhaps I can build a family through her.’ Abram agreed to what Sarai said” (Gen. 16:2). The results of this episode were not merely the birth of a child, Ishmael, but the launching of a line of descendants who would often be a thorn in the side of Israel (see Gal. 4:22–29).

Again, in his meeting with Abimelech, king of Gerar (Gen. 20), Abraham acted according to his own counsel. He thought, but he did not pray. Fearing for his life, he decided to call Sarah his sister. When his deceit became known, Abraham rationalized his action: “ ‘I said to myself [“I thought,” KJV], “There is surely no fear of God in this place and they will kill me because of my wife” ’ ” (Gen. 20:11).

By his folly and failure, which were so out of character for this stalwart of the faith, Abraham created a dangerous circumstance for Abimelech. “God came to Abimelech in a dream one night and said to him, ‘You are as good as dead because of the woman you have taken; she is a married woman’ ” (Gen. 20:3).

We can neither probe God’s mind nor understand why He dealt so harshly with the king who unwittingly became a victim of Abraham’s deception, but we should at least learn that our prayerlessness can lead to choosing a course of action that will inflict loss and harm, not only on ourselves but on innocent people around us. While Abraham did fail by his own prayerlessness, he did not allow that failure to discourage further praying. Instead, he seized upon the opportunity to discover a new dimension in prayer—prayer for healing—and found God’s ear open to his appeal: “Abraham prayed to God, and God healed Abimelech, his wife, and his slave girls so they could have children again, for the LORD had closed up every womb in Abimelech’s household because of Abraham’s wife Sarah” (Gen. 20:17–18).

Eliezer

The spiritual influence of Abraham was reflected in the life of his trusted servant, Eliezer. Eliezer’s parents, probably from Damascus, were evidently servants of Abraham when Eliezer was born: “Abram said, ‘O Sovereign Lord, what can you give me since I remain childless and the one who will inherit my estate is Eliezer of Damascus?’ And Abram said, ‘You have given me no children; so a servant in my household will be my heir’ ” (Gen. 15:2–3).

From Eliezer’s infancy the faith and prayer life of Abraham exerted a strong influence on the child. Whoever chose his name—which means “God of help”—gave evidence of a strong faith and belief in God. Apparently Abraham’s praying was not only a private encounter with God, but also a household practice involving his servants. The truth inherent in the relationship between Abraham and Eliezer is self-evident: We “spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (Heb. 10:24) by our example and practice.

Consequently, years later, when Abraham’s servant (most probably Eliezer) was commissioned to find a bride for Abraham’s son, Isaac, he invoked divine guidance and assistance just as his master had taught him to do: “He prayed, ‘O Lord, God of my master Abraham, give me success today, and show kindness to my master Abraham’ ” (Gen. 24:12). Surely God desires involvement in the affairs of ordinary people and is pleased to participate when they acknowledge their dependence upon Him and pursue His intervention.

Although Western culture does not generally subscribe to the manner of bride selection followed by Abraham for his son Isaac, the principle of inviting divine involvement in the process is not outdated. A return to earnest entreaty and dependence on God in mate selection could well reverse the detestable divorce rate that in many countries threatens to bring about the collapse of the God-ordained home and family.

The means of guidance followed by Eliezer deserves thoughtful attention, for it is used (and sometimes abused) when believers today seek to discover God’s will and direction for other decisions:

He prayed, “O Lord, God of my master Abraham, give me success today.… See, I am standing beside this spring, and the daughters of the townspeople are coming out to draw water. May it be that when I say to a girl, ‘Please let down your jar that I may have a drink,’ and she says, ‘Drink, and I’ll water your camels too’—let her be the one you have chosen for your servant Isaac. By this I will know that you have shown kindness to my master” (Gen. 24:12–14).

It is certainly possible for God to guide today through circumstances one dictates (as in Eliezer’s experience); however, we must be aware of guidelines which seem more appropriate and applicable in the New Testament era. (These will be discussed in later chapters. Note especially chapters 11 and 16.)

But despite any questions we may have about the appropriateness of following Eliezer’s example in the use of prayer, we must not forget that God honored his faith and his prayer and caused a response from Rebekah in exact harmony with the petition. Eliezer was not left in wonder or doubt. He was also quick to acknowledge God’s intervention and divine guidance: “The man bowed down and worshiped the LORD, saying, ‘Praise be to the LORD, the God of my master Abraham, who has not abandoned his kindness and faithfulness to my master. As for me, the LORD has led me on the journey to the house of my master’s relatives’ ” (Gen. 24:26–27).

Isaac

Like Eliezer, Isaac carried the imprint of his father’s godly influence. He was also an altar builder and a person of prayer. “The LORD appeared to him and said, … ‘Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bless you and will increase the number of your descendants for the sake of my servant Abraham.’ Isaac built an altar there and called on the name of the LORD” (Gen. 26:24–25).

Very little is written of Isaac’s praying, although his intimate relationship with God cannot be questioned. He knew God: He heard His voice, he obeyed, and he experienced God’s blessings. Indeed, he had personally observed God’s intervention at his father’s altar, when he himself was the sacrifice, and it no doubt marked him forever. He could have no gnawing question of God’s reality. What a foundation for effective praying. “Anyone who comes to him [God] must believe that he exists” (Heb. 11:6).

The biblical record of Isaac’s praying is limited to a single request, though that in no way should be construed to mean that he did not have a consistent prayer experience. “Isaac prayed to the LORD on behalf of his wife, because she was barren … and his wife Rebekah became pregnant” (Gen. 25:21). The word “prayed” used here suggests more than a casual petition. It derives from the Hebrew ‘atar, which in earliest usage was related to a sacrifice. Isaac’s prayer was not just a polite request; with intense application he interceded on Rebekah’s behalf. The Hebrew also indicates continued or repeated pleading during the twenty years between their marriage and the birth of the twins. He did not give up.

His wife’s barrenness was no small concern to both Rebekah and Isaac. For Rebekah, barrenness imposed an especially heavy burden. In those days many felt it indicated divine displeasure; at the least, her barrenness deprived her of every Hebrew woman’s highest ambition—giving birth to a son. And for Isaac, it meant being deprived of an heir. His concern no doubt paralleled that of his father, Abraham, when he despaired, “You have given me no children; so a servant in my household will be my heir” (Gen. 15:3). And as we come face to face with Isaac’s consuming passion, we learn a very meaningful lesson on how to confront life’s major problems: Prayer that receives a divine answer is personal and intense.

An interesting sidelight is found in the phrase “on behalf of his wife.” The literal meaning is “directly in front of his wife.” The implication is that Isaac united with Rebekah in supplication over their mutual problem. So here we have an introduction to a prayer principle of major significance: Agreement of as few as two in prayer greatly increases the effectiveness of the praying. For “if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven” (Matt. 18:19).

Although Scripture only once speaks directly of Isaac’s praying, tucked away in the record is a statement that suggests a prayer-related practice worthy of emulation: “[Isaac] went out to the field one evening to meditate” (Gen. 24:63). Here is the earliest mention of the practice of meditation in Scripture. In various Old Testament passages, the word carries the meaning of reflection on God’s works and His Word. Meditation can be a substantial support of prayer, for it sharpens one’s perception of the problem or need and at the same time focuses on God and His ability to intervene. David engaged in something akin to meditation when in the face of great opposition he “found strength in the Lord his God” (1 Sam. 30:6).

Jacob

Jacob’s God was the God of his grandfather Abraham. Godliness has a way of passing from generation to generation, although, as a result of Adam and Eve’s sin (Gen. 3), a natural downward declension seems always present, almost like a spiritual law of gravity. Jacob gives proof of this fact, for despite the solid evidence that the faith of his forefather Abraham dwelt in him, there is also evidence of deterioration, or at least an exaggerated conflict between walking after the Spirit (i.e., faith) and walking after the flesh.

Jacob was a curious combination. In him is seen the domination of the Adamic nature, with its bent toward self-seeking, deception, subtlety, and prayerlessness. At the same time, as if ever present and ready to burst through the crust of depravity, was that unfeigned faith in the one true God and the belief in His promise. Jacob apparently found it natural and easy to go in his own strength, to rely on his own ingenuity, rather than submit to God. But it is to his credit that when the pressure was on, his faith engaged like an auxiliary generator when the power supply fails. Indeed, Jacob had a heart for God and the tenacity to hold on to God in prayer, when circumstances demanded, until his faith was rewarded. So while there is good reason to believe that Jacob’s prayerlessness paved the way for the many subtle and destructive manifestations of sinful flesh in his life, there is also concrete evidence that prayer, when he finally resorted to it, enabled him to escape the snares of the flesh and attain a coveted spiritual stature.

Early evidence of Jacob’s communing with God is seen in Genesis 28. By this time, Jacob had already engaged in some devious activity. He had deceived his own father. He had wrenched the birthright from his older brother. Now he was fleeing to Haran to avoid Esau’s wrath. The location was Bethel. Despite these fleshly escapades, God saw beyond to Jacob’s heart and the fulfillment of a higher divine purpose. God visited Jacob in a dream, telling him that he would be directly involved in the fulfillment of the Abrahamic covenant. As a consequence, Jacob prayed, expressing his gratitude for God’s promise in the form of a vow:

Jacob made a vow, saying, “If [or “since”] God will be with me and will watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father’s house, then the LORD will be my God and this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God’s house, and of all that you give me I will give you a tenth” (Gen. 28:20–22.

Making a vow to God is often a part of praying, and it carries with it serious obligations: “You will pray to him, and he will hear you, and you will fulfill your vows” (Job 22:27; see also Num. 30:2 and Eccles. 5:4–5).

Jacob’s greatest praying occurred at the time of his greatest stress, when he feared for his life. Even though he had been commanded by God to return to his country and kindred after spending many years away from home, he fell into the vicious grip of fear. Would Esau spare his life? Nearly overcome by fear and distress, Jacob divided his people, flocks, herds, and camels into two groups so that some would escape if Esau should come against him violently:

Jacob prayed, “O God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac, O LORD, 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 he will come and attack me, and also the mothers with their children” (Gen. 32:9–11).

His fear was well-founded. His brother was moving in his direction with four hundred armed men. This was the same brother from whom by deception he had stolen both the birthright and the blessing. Fear is terrible. It gnaws at the core of a person. It chases away sleep and inflames the brain. John the Beloved wrote, “Fear has to do with punishment” (1 John 4:18). And we might add, fear always enlarges the problem.

What should we do with our fear? Let Jacob be our mentor: He prayed. And his prayer was most exemplary. First, he identified his God: “ ‘O God of my father Abraham, God of my father Isaac.’ ” Then he identified God’s promise to him: “ ‘O Lord, who said to me, “Go back to your country and your relatives, and I will make you prosper.” ’ ” Next, he identified his own unworthiness of God’s goodness and blessings: “ ‘I am unworthy of all the kindness and faithfulness you have shown your servant.’ ” Finally, he identified his petition and his fear: “ ‘Save me … from the hand of my brother … for I am afraid.’ ”

Jacob was not content just to pray. He did all in his power to heal the breach between himself and his brother. But having done everything he could to make peace with his brother, he still had a deep-seated uncertainty and a growing awareness that his foremost problem was not his brother, but himself. What an agonizing experience it is to have to admit to one’s true condition. Such a realization, such an agony, can be settled only by God. “Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak” (Gen. 32:24).

Who was the man Jacob wrestled? Jacob soon recognized him: “Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, ‘It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared’ ” (Gen. 32:30). Recalling Jacob’s experience years later, Hosea made the same identification: “He struggled with the angel and overcame him; he wept and begged for his favor. He found him at Bethel and talked with him there—the Lord God Almighty, the Lord is his name” (Hos. 12:4–5).

The simple fact is that Jacob struggled with God. It is not difficult to determine the reason. Jacob wanted God’s blessing, but at the same time Jacob was the reason God could not honor the desperate pleas. All night the battle raged. All night Jacob cried, “Bless me.” All night God responded, “What is your name?” The flesh is weak and strong at the same time. It is weak in that it cannot bow to God and die; it is strong in that it insists on living. Dying is never easy, especially dying to one’s sinful, fleshly self.

“What is your name?” Why should God be so insistent? Why should the struggle go on all night? Didn’t God know his name? Indeed He did. But to admit the name was to expose the whole problem—Jacob himself, the liar, the supplanter, the deceiver. Jacob could admit unworthiness and need (Gen. 32:10), but how utterly humiliating to appear naked before the Almighty, without any self-fabricated covering.

It was only after God disabled the resisting flesh (Gen. 32:25) that the flesh surrendered and the confession came. Finally, the stubborn wrestler admitted, “I am Jacob.” That was all God required; that swung wide the door for God’s blessing. Jacob’s finally confessing his identity was the key to becoming the person God desired him to be. God said, “ ‘Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome’ ” (Gen. 32:28).

By his praying and wrestling, Jacob prevailed and became Israel, God’s victor and prince. As he came to grips with his own human nature and let God give him a new nature for the old, Jacob’s problem with his brother was also resolved. The principle is still vital: The external problems we bring to God in prayer are sometimes answered by a miracle of internal change.

Jacob never forgot his Peniel experience. He was never the same again. Years later he expressed his gratitude for God’s faithfulness by returning to the site of another supernatural experience—Bethel—and there building an altar to God (Gen. 35:3).

Job

Although the Book of Job appears much later in the canon, there is great uncertainty about its date and the time Job lived. We include it here simply because it has the setting and sound of the Patriarchal period. For example, like the patriarchs, Job offered his own sacrifices. Job’s wealth was measured like Abraham’s, in terms of livestock and servants. And his life span was similar to that recorded for the patriarchs.

Prayer takes on a whole new dimension in this most remarkable account of someone tested almost beyond human endurance. From Job we may well learn both how not to pray and how better to pray when confronted with circumstances defying all rational explanation. “ ‘Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut me off!’ ” (Job 6:8–9).

Desperate people lose sight of life. Not uncommonly, they pray to die (cf. Num. 11:11–15; 1 Kings 19:4; Jon. 4:3). Yet nowhere in Scripture is there a single instance of God honoring such a request. Job’s problem, as with those of all mortals, was his inability to discern the divine purpose and to see beyond the present. At such times, the truth of God can scarcely set foot in the human heart, and one must wrestle with Satan, a master at accentuating darkness. Yet Christians have the blessed Paraclete (Comforter, Helper, Counselor) for help and comfort. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express” (Rom. 8:26).

How then should we approach life’s darkest hours and most severe tests? What should we do when we seem utterly unable to find an answer to a prevailing condition, when all hope of recovery has fled, when death seems the only way out? James tells us: “The testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him” (James 1:3–5).

God’s Purposes

Immediate deliverance may not be the will of God; but, if that be the case, God can give us wisdom so that we can grasp His intent and then submit to it. Fierce circumstances drive people to searching inquiry; and it may be concluded, at least in part, that this is one reason for the circumstances. When there is no extreme pressure, no shining diamonds of eternal value emerge.

“What is man that you make so much of him, that you give him so much attention, that you examine him every morning and test him every moment? Will you never look away from me, or let me alone even for an instant? If I have sinned, what have I done to you, O watcher of men? Why have you made me your target? Have I become a burden to you? Why do you not pardon my offenses and forgive my sins? For I will soon lie down in the dust; you will search for me, but I will be no more” (Job 7:17–21).

Job, in this instance, sought to reason with God about His attention to mere human beings. Why, after all, should the eternal God concern himself with such insignificant creatures as we are? The Greek Epicurean philosophers held that God paid no attention whatever to this world, or to what happened in it, but instead dwelt in security and tranquility, with nothing vexing, disturbing, or displeasing Him. Yet Job perceived the opposite to be true and wondered why. “Why, God, are you such a people-watcher? Why do you make so much over an individual like me?” he questioned.

We may find ourselves praying the same prayer in the midst of seemingly unending tests and trials. Yet God does in fact concern himself with the good and evil seemingly so inextricable about us that we can’t discern one from the other. The opposite view, that God does not know, or does not care, about human circumstances, actually degrades rather than exalts deity.

Expression in Times of Despair

The person bewildered by circumstances beyond human remedy is tempted to blame God for the suffering. If God can relieve suffering, but does not, the human mind reasons, He must accept responsibility for the unrelieved pain. Inflamed and confused with its own wrestling, the human mind yields to the superior opponents of frustration and despair. So it was with Job, whose extreme sorrow had clouded his vision, distorting his view of God.

“If I say, ‘I will forget my complaint, I will change my expression, and smile,’ I still dread all my sufferings, for I know you will not hold me innocent. Since I am already found guilty, why should I struggle in vain? Even if I washed myself with soap and my hands with washing soda, you would plunge me into a slime pit so that even my clothes would detest me. He is not a man like me that I might answer him, that we might confront each other in court. If only there were someone to arbitrate between us, to lay his hand upon us both, someone to remove God’s rod from me, so that his terror would frighten me no more” (Job 9:27–34).

Suffering can bring a person close to losing mental and emotional equilibrium. We cannot hold Job in derision for the bitterness of soul reflected in his praying.

“I loathe my very life; therefore I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God: Do not condemn me, but tell me what charges you have against me.… Your hands shaped me and made me. Will you now turn and destroy me?… If I am guilty—woe to me! Even if I am innocent, I cannot lift my head, for I am full of shame and drowned in my affliction. If I hold my head high, you stalk me like a lion and again display your awesome power against me.… Why then did you bring me out of the womb? I wish I had died before any eye saw me. If only I had never come into being, or had been carried straight from the womb to the grave! Are not my few days almost over? Turn away from me so I can have a moment’s joy before I go to the place of no return, to the land of gloom and deep shadow” (Job 10:1–2, 8, 15–16, 18–21).

Job readily recognized God’s ascendancy over him; nevertheless, he could not resolve the mystery of his own circumstances. People are sometimes so occupied with their circumstances that they cannot see beyond them. Could Job have seen the end of his experience, his attitude would have changed completely. At the same time, God’s glorious purpose would have been short-circuited, and Job himself would never have realized God’s best. Those who know God also know that the glorious end is in His hands. That confidence breeds trust and peace. When facing a trial like Job’s, we must focus not on the present dilemma but on the assurance that the end is designed by a loving God.

Desperate people pray to die or, at the very least, to escape through flight (see Ps. 55:6). But escapism seldom produces a worthy solution. Think of what Job would have lost if this prayer of his had been answered: “ ‘If only you would hide me in the grave and conceal me till your anger has passed! If only you would set me a time and then remember me! If a man dies, will he live again? All the days of my hard service I will wait for my renewal to come’ ” (Job 14:13–14).

Although there are confrontational elements in this prayer, when such a prayer grows out of an honest confusion and intensity of suffering God is not offended or angered. It appears that Job was struggling over the full meaning of life and death. He appealed for light about the future: “If a man die, shall he live again?” Deep trials and fierce struggles force one to face issues squarely. The Christian, however, has a grand advantage, for our Savior Jesus Christ has “destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Tim. 1:10).

In such times a person does well to recall Solomon’s admonition, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). In due season, the clouds will disappear (as they did for Job) and God will be seen for who He truly is: the God of great wisdom as well as mercy.

Submission to God’s Sovereignty

The morbid and embittered tone of Job’s praying eventually changed. Something precipitated a turnabout. Job himself explained the cause: “ ‘My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you’ ” (Job 42:5). His perspective on the whole of life, and even death, was vastly altered when he beheld God as He truly is:

“I am unworthy—how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth. I spoke once, but I have no answer—twice, but I will say no more” (Job 40:3–5).

“I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted.… My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes” (Job 42:1–2, 5–6).

No longer did Job attempt to match wits with God and to resolve rationally his own problem. No longer did he plead his own righteousness. No longer did he wrestle with frustrations over circumstances that seemed to have no end. Instead, he began to see himself in an entirely new light, which is indeed what always happens when people see God (see Isa. 61–5). Now he saw himself as “unworthy.” His confession was humble and honest: “I have spoken too much. Who was I to argue and debate with God? Surely I sought to deal with matters far beyond my puny ability, matters of which I was plainly ignorant, matters upon which I should have had the good sense to be silent” (paraphrase). Genuine confession leads to, or may indeed be a part of, true repentance. “ ‘Therefore I … repent in dust and ashes’ ” (42:6).

The patriarchs were people of prayer. Though they preceded the formalized pattern of worship and forgiveness given through Moses, they knew that God demanded sacrifice and obedience. Meeting these requirements, they enjoyed a communion which demonstrates that God speaks to and accepts worship from those who sincerely seek His face.