The God of Jacob
Psalm xlvi. 7 v.
“The God of Jacob is our refuge.”
Why the God of Jacob? Why not the God of Abraham, or the God of Isaac? Because Jacob was the smallest man of the three. He was the least likely to have a Divine refuge. He is the type of the largest number — of the most hopeless number. He is one of the waifs and strays of nature. He is always doing wrong and running away. He is constantly pulled up from the descent of the precipice. He is pulled up on the hunting-field; he is pulled up at Bethel; he is pulled up at Padan-Aram; he is pulled up at Peniel; he is pulled up even at Goshen, when his love is becoming unjust. A strange man, not all light nor all dark, but living, like his own ladder, between two worlds, and with a touch of both; a man of great aspirings and small fulfilments, dreaming of steps unto heaven, and sleeping on an earthly stair. It is something to know that there is a Divine refuge for such a man; he is so like our common clay, so unheroic, so human. He soars not with Enoch, he floats not with Noah, he mounts not with Moses; he walks upon the rugged earth, and stumbles on the stones. He is one of our own. He belongs to our streets, and lanes, and alleys. He meets us in the wrangling of the mart. He joins us in the burdens of the day. He represents the struggle for existence everywhere. We feel that if there be guidance for him there must be guidance for the million. We say instinctively, “the Grod of Jacob is our refuge.”
God of Jacob, I bless Thee for my dreams — my dreams of Thee. It is in my dreams of Thee that Thou art my refuge Often have I wandered through the desert on no other strength than that of the heart’s dream. Often, when the way was long and the night was cold and the pillow was stony, the dream has conquered all. Often hast Thou sent to me a peace that passed understanding. It came where it had no right to come — on the steps of poverty, down the ladder of humiliations. It came when life was low, when fortune was low, when hope was low. It came without a reason — shining by its own light, refusing explanation, defying scrutiny. One moment I had said, “How dreadful is this place! “; and the next I cried, “This is the gate of heaven!” Thou hast followed me with inaudible steps; Thou hast brightened me with invisible sunbeams; Thou hast nourished me with intangible food; Thou hast strengthened me with unaccountable comfort. I have soared without wings; I have sailed without ship; I have climbed, though shrunk in sinew. The man is perfected in weakness whose arms “are made strong by the hand of the mighty God of Jacob.”