Over the years, I have had to wrestle with God about many of the things He says I am. Instead of using my name, He calls me Blessed. “My Blessed One, I want you to remember I knew you were going to be here, in this time of desperation, even before you were born. I deposited everything you need inside your born again spirit to walk above the facts and through the circumstances.” I scream, “God, I am certainly not the man you think I am! Everything I touch falls to the ground in a dung heap. I was an accident abandoned at an orphanage on a frozen December day. I don’t matter. When I’m gone, Dad, I’m forgotten.”
So the bell chimes and the wrestling begins. I push. He pulls. Now, I’m off balance and He knows what it takes to get the three-count. He says, “I love you. I have loved you since the moment I determined your part in My purpose. I will always love you. The proof is in our histories together, Child. Never, never forget.”
He calls me Prosperous. “God, you dialed the wrong number. Pastor K’s area code is the same as mine but check the listing. I can pass a message on to him if…” God responds by lifting my right arm near the center of my back interrupting my piteous grunts. He leans close to my ear and whispers, “You are walking through the land of lack, not because you aren’t able to escape, but because you still think you don’t deserve to have the abundance flow through you, so you spend the little you have with no thought of saving for My storehouse.” Just before the “Iron Claw” is applied to my seemingly hollow skull, I say, audibly enough, “You are right. I am wrong again. If I had a dollar for every time I have said that to You and my wife, I would have enough money to have the word “poverty” removed from the dictionary.”
I need to remember He has all the right moves, and to top it off, He lines people up that I have relationships with to tag in and compliment His resounding victory. If you will be honest with yourself, while you chuckle about my repeat romps in the ring, you may find Him atop a corner post, crouching and sweating, skin tightly stretched across His knuckles as He squeezes the top rope, gazing squarely at you and your pitiful excuses as to why you can’t be all He says you can. Your name has been changed to Blessed, Prosperous, Overcomer, King, Priest, Wise, Prudent, Son, Daughter, Redeemed, Valuable, Godly, Lover, Intercessor, Salt, Light, Client of Christ, Psalm-singer, Worshipper, Obedient, Warrior, Peacemaker, and Victor. There are so many more. Have you, like Jacob, refused to let go until you have been marked for life? What does He call you? Which parts of your identity are you wrestling over?