Jacob Have I Loved

 •  7 min. read  •  grade level: 7
Listen from:
In tracing the history of Jacob, we are again and again reminded of the grace expressed in those words, “Jacob have I loved.” The question why God should love such a one can only be answered in the sovereign grace of Him who sets His love upon objects possessing nothing within them, “that no flesh should glory in His presence.” Jacob’s natural character was not amiable; his name indeed said what he was — “a supplanter.” He commenced his life in the development of this and pursued a course of bargain-making.
On leaving his father’s house, Jacob makes a bargain with God. “If God,” says he, “will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God: and this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God’s house: and of all that Thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto Thee” (Gen. 28:20-2220And Jacob vowed a vow, saying, If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, 21So that I come again to my father's house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God: 22And this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's house: and of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee. (Genesis 28:20‑22)). Here we find him making a bargain with God Himself; then again, during his sojourn with Laban, we see his deep-laid schemes to promote his own ends. How plainly it is seen that self was the grand object before his mind, in all that he put his hand to. So it is in the course of Genesis 32; he is deeply engaged in plans to turn away the dreaded wrath of his brother Esau.
A Bad Conscience
But there is one circumstance in this chapter which deserves attention. Jacob has a bad conscience with regard to his brother, and he is therefore ill at ease at the prospect of meeting him. But God had a controversy with Jacob. He had to lead him through a course of education that was to teach him that “all flesh is grass.” Jacob thought only of appeasing Esau by a present. True, he turns aside in this chapter to offer up confession, and he prays; yet it is manifest that his heart was engaged about his own arrangements for appeasing Esau, more than anything else. But God was preparing a restorative course of discipline for him, in order to teach him what was in his heart. For this purpose was Jacob left alone. All his company, arranged according to his own plan, had passed on, and he himself was awaiting this much-dreaded interview with Esau.
There is peculiar force in the words, “Jacob was left alone.” Thus it is with all who have been trained in the school of God; they have been brought into the solitude of the divine presence, there to view themselves and their ways where alone they can be rightly viewed. There is no part of a man’s history so important as when he is thus led into the solitude of the divine presence! It is there he understands things which were before dark and inexplicable. There he can judge of men and things in their proper light; there too he can judge of self and see its proper nothingness and vileness.
The Sanctuary
In Psalm 73 we find a soul looking abroad upon the world and reasoning upon what he saw there — reasoning to such an extent that he was almost tempted to say it was vain to serve the Lord at all. In Psalm 77 we find a soul looking inward and reasoning upon what he saw within —reasoning to such an extent as to question the continuance of God’s grace. What was the remedy in both cases? “The sanctuary.” I went into the sanctuary of God, and then I understood. So it was with Jacob; his “sanctuary” was the lonely spot where God wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. If read carefully, this passage does not support the popular idea, namely, that it is an instance of Jacob’s power in prayer. Note that it says, “There wrestled a man with him”; it is not said that he wrestled with the man. I believe that, so far from its proving Jacob’s power in prayer, it rather proves the tenacity with which he grasped the things of the flesh. So firmly did he hold fast his “confidence in the flesh” that all night long the struggle continued. “The supplanter” held out, nor did he yield until the very seat of his strength was touched, and he was made to feel indeed that “all flesh is grass.” Instead of Jacob’s patience and perseverance in prayer, we have God’s patience in dealing with one who needed to have his “old man” crushed before God could make anything of him.
“Except THOU Bless Me”
This momentous scene is the grand turning-point in the life of this extraordinary man. And we may ask what the expression means, “I will not let Thee go except Thou bless me.” Surely it is the utterance of one that had made the discovery that he was “without strength.” Jacob was let into the secret of human weakness; therefore he thinks no more of his own plans and arrangements and his presents to appease “my lord Esau.” No; he stands withered and trembling before the One who had humbled him, and he cries, “I will not let Thee go except Thou bless me.” Surely this is the gate of heaven! Jacob had arrived at the end of flesh; it is no longer “me,” but “Thee.” All self-confidence is gone; all his bargains availed him nothing at all. How miserable must everything that he did have seemed to him, when thus laid in the dust of self-abasement and conscious weakness!
The mighty Wrestler says, “Let Me go, for the day breaketh.” He was determined to make manifest the condition of Jacob’s soul. If Jacob had without delay let go his grasp, it would have proved that his heart was still wrapped up in his worldly plans and schemes. On the contrary, when he cries out, “I will not let Thee go,” he declares that God alone was the spring of all his soul’s joy and strength. Such will ever be the happy effect of a thorough acquaintance with our own hearts. Jacob now gets his name changed; he must not be any longer known as “the supplanter,” but as “a prince,” having power with God through the very knowledge of his weakness, for “when I am weak, then am I strong” (2 Cor. 12:1010Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. (2 Corinthians 12:10)). We are never so strong as when we feel ourselves weak, and, on the contrary, we are never so weak as when we fancy ourselves strong. Peter never displayed more lamentable weakness than when he fancied he had uncommon strength. Had he felt somewhat of Jacob’s happy condition when his sinew shrank, he would have thought, acted and spoken differently.
Power With God
We should not turn from this passage without at least seeing distinctly what it was that gave Jacob “power with God and with man”: It was the full consciousness of his own nothingness. There is nothing here of Jacob’s power in prayer. No; all we see is, first, Jacob’s strength in the flesh and God weakening him; then, his weakness in the flesh and God strengthening him. This is indeed the great moral of the scene. Jacob was satisfied to go “halting” on his journey, seeing he had learned the secret of true strength. He was able to move along in the spirit of the words afterward uttered by the Apostle Paul: “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Cor. 12:99And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)). Yes, “my infirmities” on the one hand and “the power of Christ” on the other will be found to constitute the sum total of the life of a Christian.
C. H. Mackintosh (adapted)