God Who Calls and Keeps,
You spoke to Jacob in the tension,
not in peace.
You told him to leave
not when everything was settled
but when jealousy burned
and danger brewed.
You said,
“Return to the land of your fathers and I will be with you.”
And that was enough.
Lord, teach me to move like that
not when it’s safe,
but when You speak.
Not when every detail is visible,
but when Your voice is sure.
Jacob had served twenty years,
lived under deceit,
toiled for love and survival.
He bore the weight of labor and silence.
And still, You were there.
“Your God has been with me,” he said.
God, even when I cannot feel it,
even when the long days blend together
remind me
You have not left.
You have seen every injustice.
You have counted every cost.
Jacob fled,
not defiantly,
but quietly.
And Laban pursued.
Lord, I confess
when I finally step out in obedience,
fear often follows close behind.
The enemy chases.
Accusation rises.
The past tries to reclaim me.
But You warned Laban.
You spoke in the night.
You defended Your servant
not with a sword
but with a word.
God, be my defender.
Speak when I cannot.
Guard me when I’m pursued
by those who do not understand my calling.
Jacob stood and declared,
“If the God of my father had not been with me…”
He gave You credit
for all that kept him through the years.
May I do the same.
May I see Your hand
even in the hard years.
Even in the tears,
the toil,
the unanswered questions.
Even when family misunderstands,
when motives are questioned,
when peace is fragile.
And though Jacob feared,
You guided.
Though he was uncertain,
You sustained.
They made a covenant
a pile of stones,
a memorial of boundaries and peace.
And Jacob offered sacrifice.
He turned fear into worship.
Lord, help me do the same.
Let me leave what needs to be left
without bitterness,
and walk into what’s ahead
without fear.
You are the God
who calls me out,
meets me in the middle,
and goes ahead of me.
So I rise
not because it is easy,
but because You are with me.
In the name of Jesus,
who leads the exile home,
and builds an altar in every wilderness
Amen.