This really caught my attention this morning when I read it...I think you will get hit between the eyes with it too...

Charlie 

Sometimes our people are defined by their pain. So are some pastors and occasionally, whole congregations. First Church of the Broken Fellowship, Associate Pastor Tom Anxiety. Like the lady said, “Don’t call me Pleasant. Call me Bitter.”

Take the Jews who returned to their devastated homeland after decades of exile. They were so glad to be home, but a couple generations of captivity had taught them a lot of sad songs. They no longer had a king and God’s temple was vacant and ruined.

So, the Chronicler, a preacher like us, set out to reorient them, to help them remember who they were and how to find their way back. He began by reaching into their ash-covered archives to bring out the genealogies of their tribes, kings, priests, and temple gatekeepers. He blew the dust off name after name—Zereth, Zohar, Ethnan, Koz—and then one particular name buried among the clans of Judah caught his attention.

Whose son he was or what sons he had isn’t mentioned. But here was a micro-story of one man who would be just what the beleaguered people of Israel needed. It was the story of a man named Oh-the-Pain; Jabez.

Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. (1 Chron. 4:9-10)

That childbirth must have been an absolute nightmare for her to inflict such a name on him. It was a curse, really; an omen with the makings of a dark prophecy. That’s why his vignette was so appropriate for the returning exiles. Micah said that Israel’s name had become a source of derision and scorn. Hosea said that God himself had come within a whisker of renaming them Not-Loved and Not-My-People.

The Chronicler saw how God’s people needed Jabez’s story. Here was a man they—and we—could relate to. What would transform a man named Oh-the-Pain into one who became “more honorable than his brothers”? A wise prayer, that’s what!

Jabez’s prayer was the turning point of his life. It’s all we need to know about him. I suspect it wasn’t one single prayer, but a prayer that grew in depth and confidence with repetition. That’s how good prayers often work. Jabez dug deep into God’s covenant till he drew up three particular requests—the land God had promised, God’s guiding hand, and God’s protection from harm.

Generations earlier, God changed Jacob’s muddy name (Heel-Grabber) to Israel (God-Wrestler). Wrestling with God for his blessing is our heritage, identity, and privilege. We wrestle with God in prayer in order to lay hold of what God has earnestly desired to give us all along. God-wrestling brings us to our knees and invigorates us. God’s face shines upon us. When we cry out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me!” (as both Jacob and Jabez did) we begin to live up to our calling instead of living down to our pain.

To bless God is to praise him. When God blesses us, he makes our lives praiseworthy, infusing our stories with his handiwork. The result, as it was with Jabez, is that we become honorable. The Hebrew word also means weighty. The God-blessed life is substantial, significant, and influential, not because we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps but because we pray for ourselves and our people.

Be ye glad!