Wrestling with God: When the Mat Becomes an Altar
Good morning, dear readers. It's Sunday morning here in Shreveport, Louisiana, and today's post is a deeply personal reflection on my own wrestling match – not the kind with takedowns and pinfalls, but the one I've had, and continue to have, with God.
The roar of the crowd, the sweat stinging my eyes, the primal energy of two bodies locked in a test of strength – for years, this was my church. The wrestling ring, the squared circle, the canvas where stories of triumph and defeat unfolded under the bright lights. But as I stand now, sidelined by a heart that can no longer endure the strain, I find myself reflecting on a different kind of wrestling, a deeper grapple – the one I've had, and continue to have, with God.
For a long time, the wrestling ring felt like my domain. I was the master of my narrative, the architect of my victories (and sometimes, the stoic recipient of my losses). It was a world of tangible effort, of cause and immediate effect. You trained harder, you studied your opponent, you executed the moves with precision, and hopefully, your hand was raised in the end. God, in that world, felt somewhat distant, a figure to acknowledge on Sundays, perhaps, but not someone you necessarily tangled with in the heat of the moment.
Yet, the very essence of wrestling, the struggle, the pushing against resistance, mirrors in a strange way our relationship with the Divine. How many times have I felt like I was in a grueling match with God? Pinned down by circumstances I couldn't escape, thrown for a loop by life's unexpected slams? The heart attacks and strokes that ended my career felt like a brutal, unfair takedown right here in Shreveport. Where was the divine intervention then? Why would a passion, a skill I honed with years of dedication in gyms across this city, be so violently ripped away?
Just like in a wrestling match, when you're down, you have a choice. You can stay there, defeated, letting the referee count you out. Or you can dig deep, find a reserve of strength you didn't know you possessed, and fight your way back to your feet. My forced retirement initially left me on the mat, staring at the lights of despair in my own home here in Shreveport. I questioned everything, including my faith. Had I not lived a life that honored God? Had I not given my all, both in and out of the ring in venues throughout this region? The silence felt deafening, like the hushed anticipation of a crowd waiting for the final bell at the Municipal Auditorium.
But wrestling also taught me about resilience, a quality I learned in the hard-knocks world of professional wrestling. It ingrained in me the understanding that even in defeat, there's something to be learned. You analyze the match, you identify your weaknesses, and you come back stronger. This mindset, homed in the crucible of the ring in Shreveport and beyond, has slowly begun to shape my spiritual wrestling.
Instead of seeing my struggles as God being against me, I'm starting to see them as a different kind of hold, a challenge to grow stronger in my faith right here in Shreveport. The loss of my wrestling career, the heartbreak in past relationships with women I met in this city – these are the formidable opponents I now face outside the ring, on the very streets I walk every day as a homeless person. And just like I studied my adversaries in wrestling, I'm now trying to understand the lessons embedded in these trials as I navigate my new life in Shreveport.
The anger, the frustration, the feeling of being pinned down by circumstances – these are real emotions that I grapple with daily in my new life Shreveport. Just as I wouldn't ignore a searing pain in the ring, I can't ignore these feelings in my spiritual life. It's about acknowledging the struggle, the wrestling, the honest questions I have for God as I live in this Louisiana city. Why this? Why now? What is the purpose in Shreveport?
Perhaps the mat, once a place of physical combat in arenas across the country, is now transforming into an altar right here in my heart in Shreveport. A place where I bring my raw emotions, my frustrations, my unanswered prayers, and lay them before God. It's not always a pretty picture. Sometimes it's a messy, tear-stained surrender that happens in the quiet of my Shreveport home. But just like a wrestler seeks to gain leverage and find a better position, I'm learning to seek God's perspective in the midst of my struggles as I live in this community.
The discipline I learned in training – the commitment, the perseverance, the reliance on something bigger than myself (my coaches, my training partners in Shreveport) – these are now being applied to my faith. My discipleship class at 3:18 Church here in Shreveport, the fellowship with others in this city, the guidance of Pastor Matthew Tyson – these are my new training partners, helping me to strengthen my spiritual muscles right here at home.
Wrestling with God isn't about winning or losing in the traditional sense I understood in the ring. It's about the engagement, the honest confrontation, the willingness to stay in the match even when it feels overwhelming here in Shreveport. It's about trusting that even when I feel like I'm on my back, God's grace can be the unseen hand that helps me find my footing again in this city I call home.
The roar of the crowd may have faded for my wrestling career, but the quiet whispers of faith are beginning to resonate within me here in Shreveport. The mat may no longer be my primary stage, but the arena of my heart is where the real wrestling is taking place – a wrestle with God that I believe, in the end, will lead not to defeat, but to a deeper, more resilient faith right here in Shreveport, Louisiana.
My journey in the squared circle, and now my deeper wrestle with God, finds echoes in the ancient texts, particularly in the stories of Samson's tumultuous battles and Jacob's mysterious encounter with the divine. These narratives offer profound insights into my own struggles – the desire to do right, the allure of a demanding lifestyle, and the constant tension between my faith and the vices that once held me captive, even here in Shreveport.
Wrestling with God: Finding Strength in Scripture and the Shadows of Samson and Jacob
However, Samson's story is also a cautionary tale of succumbing to temptation and the consequences of a lifestyle that strayed from God's path. His entanglements with foreign women, particularly Delilah, ultimately led to his downfall. This mirrors my own struggles with the vices that became intertwined with the demanding and often morally ambiguous world of professional wrestling, even in Shreveport. The constant travel, the pressure to maintain a certain image in the wrestling community, and the easy access to fleeting pleasures often led me down paths I knew were wrong, even in my own hometown.
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Judges 14:1-3 (Samson's desire for a Philistine woman): "Then Samson went down to Timnah, and saw a woman in Timnah of the daughters of the Philistines. So he came up and told his father and mother, saying, 'I have seen a woman in Timnah of the daughters of the Philistines; now therefore, get her for me as a wife.'
Then his father and mother said to him, 'Is there no woman among the daughters of your brethren, or among all our people, that you must go and take a wife from the uncircumcised Philistines?' And Samson said to his father, 'Get her for me, for she pleases me well.'" This passage reflects how desire, even when it goes against wise counsel and potentially God's will, can lead us down compromising paths, a truth I experienced in my own life and relationships here in Shreveport. The allure of what "pleases us well" in the moment can have long-term consequences, much like the temptations I faced in the wrestling world. -
Judges 16:19 (Samson's betrayal): "Then she lulled him to sleep on her knees and called for a man and had his seven locks of his head shaved off. Then she began to torment him, and his strength left him." Samson's vulnerability to temptation led to the loss of his physical strength, the very thing that defined him. Similarly, my entanglement with vices weakened my spiritual strength and created a distance between me and God, even in my daily life here in Shreveport. The lifestyle I embraced, while necessary for survival in the wrestling industry in some ways, ultimately stripped me of a deeper sense of purpose and peace in my own community.
Jacob Wrestling with God (The Angel of the Lord): A Struggle for Blessing
In the heart of the night, beneath a sky ablaze with stars, a solitary figure wrestled with an unseen force. This was not a man grappling with another man, but Jacob, patriarch of Israel, locked in a desperate struggle with the Angel of the Lord.
Jacob, known for his cunning and ambition, had spent his life pursuing his own desires. Yet, as he journeyed back to his homeland, a profound longing for God's blessing stirred within him. He sought not merely material wealth or power, but a deeper connection with the divine.
And so, he wrestled. Not with fists or swords, but with his very soul. He pleaded, he bargained, he clung to the mysterious being until the break of dawn. The Angel, in turn, tested Jacob's resolve, pushing him to his limits, demanding a surrender that went beyond mere words.
Finally, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the darkness, the Angel touched Jacob's hip, leaving him with a limp. But the pain was a small price to pay for what he had gained. Jacob, his name meaning "supplanter," had been transformed into Israel, a prince who had prevailed.
The story of Jacob's wrestling match is a powerful allegory for the human struggle for faith. It speaks to our deepest desires, our yearning for connection with the divine, and the challenges we face on our spiritual journeys. It reminds us that true blessing often comes at a cost, demanding our utmost commitment and unwavering determination.
The account of Jacob wrestling with a mysterious man (often interpreted as the Angel of the Lord or God himself) in Genesis 32 offers a different perspective on wrestling with the Divine, a struggle I now understand more deeply as I navigate my life in Shreveport. Jacob, a man who had schemed and striven throughout his life, wrestled not for victory in the traditional sense, but for a blessing.
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Genesis 32:24-26 (Jacob's wrestling): "Then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of day. Now when He saw that He did not prevail against him, He touched the socket of his hip
and put Jacob’s hip out of joint as He wrestled with him. And He said, 'Let Me go, for the day breaks.' But he said, 'I will not let You go unless You bless me!'" Jacob's tenacity in holding onto the Angel, even when injured, speaks to the persistent struggle we often have with God, a persistence I recognize in my own prayers and questions here in Shreveport. My own wrestling with God over the loss of my career, the pain of past relationships in this city, and the weight of my past choices feels like this relentless clinging, this desperate plea for understanding and blessing as I live in this community. -
Genesis 32:28 (Jacob's new name): "And He said, 'Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel; for you have struggled with God and with men and have prevailed.'" Jacob's names change to Israel,
meaning "he struggles with God," signifies a transformation born out of the wrestling match. My own forced retirement and the subsequent introspection here in Shreveport have led to a similar shift. The old identity of "the wrestler" is evolving into something new, something that hopefully reflects a deeper understanding of my faith and my relationship with God as I live in this city. The struggles I've endured, both in the ring and in my personal life in Shreveport, are shaping a new identity, one forged in the crucible of these battles right here at home.
Finding Meaning in the Struggle in Shreveport:
My journey through the demanding world of professional wrestling often felt like a constant fight for survival, where the lines between right and wrong blurred in the pursuit of success and longevity, even within the wrestling scene here in Shreveport. The vices I succumbed to were, in part, a misguided attempt to cope with the pressures and the moral compromises the lifestyle sometimes demanded in this industry.
Now, sidelined from the ring here in Shreveport, I see these experiences through a different lens, informed by the stories of Samson and Jacob. Like Samson, I experienced the allure of a powerful identity and the consequences of straying from a path of righteousness. Like Jacob, I am now wrestling with God, not for earthly victory in the ring, but for spiritual understanding and blessing in my life here in Shreveport.
The wrestling ring may have been my former arena, but my life now in Shreveport is the new mat where this deeper struggle unfolds. By acknowledging my past, seeking God's guidance through scripture and community at 3:18 Church, and the Lovewell Center. Learning from the triumphs and failures of biblical figures like Samson and Jacob, I hope to find a new strength, a transformed identity, and ultimately, a deeper connection with the God I continue to wrestle with right here in Shreveport, Louisiana.
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