The title tonight is an homage to how Xan described a memory, a story of my experience last week and what God did for me. The story tonight will be incomplete, for several reasons, but basically mine is only a part of this story, and I eagerly await the time when I can share the other part of it.
I've thought a lot about what to write for this second post. The obvious thing sequentially is our backpacking trip to Wyoming, but my thoughts as well as the advice of most around me keeps coming back to one thing in particular. Not suprisingly though as this was the biggest event for me on that trip.
Well, so we get here to CO and meet for the first time on Monday; Tuesday morning we get up, meet our guides, and pack a few things to go backpacking in the mountains and snow of Wyoming for 6 days. We drove several hours to get to Laramie and got to a ridge of mountains called Snowy Range, a fitting name as probably anywhere from 75-90 percent of the 32 miles or so that we hiked was all snow.
Our beds, our meals, our clothes, and anything else we needed for the week was all on our backs. From Tuesday late afternoon to Sunday early afternoon we hiked, camped, talked, and bonded. I almost hate to use that word because of its nearly cliched nature, but that is the truth of it. It was four of us guys, plus Xan and Cory our leaders, and then two guides from RMR: Adam and Aaron. The four of us: me, Dan, Josh, and Campbell were all certainly brought closer over the week; our group that meshed well from the first day quickly became truly a band of brothers by the end of the week. But all eight of us really got to know each other and form relationships that will last for some time, even for lifetimes.
One of those relationships in particular is a big part of my experience on that mountain. Adam, our guide, and I became very close. Simply 'bonded' does not nearly do it justice. Something I said to him was that he and I were now 'forever bonded', eternally linked, our stories now permanently intertwined. But more on that later.
This is where some explanation comes for those of the readers that knew me before this summer. All that have met me recently know me as Adam (which is actually my middle name), but before the past two weeks everyone knew me only as Jonathan, my first name. I have gotten the sense for quite some time now (about 6-8 months or so) that one thing God had for me this summer was an experience of receiving my new name; of starting to go by my middle name, or my first initial and middle name, as my own dad does. John talks in Way of the Wild Heart about the new name experience for a man but moreover it can be seen many times in the lives of many Biblical characters, most notably (for me anyway) Jacob.
I had told Xan about it and we talked a few times on the phone before I got here, trying to figure out what it would look like, how it would take place over the course of the summer. But one thing I love about God is that no matter what plans we make, He always knows best and has the best in mind. This case was no different. I won’t bother with all the discussion or what I had ‘decided’ but simply say that God had in mind for the new name to begin that week for me.
The other three guys had started calling me Adam from the first night in the cabin, and basically for the first few days it was pretty transitional, people going back forth between Jonathan and Adam, Xan and Cory actually rarely calling me Adam. Actually, though I know it was part of the process, I told them all later that in the beginning there it felt fake, not quite right being called that at that time. But I’m getting ahead.
I've thought a lot about what to write for this second post. The obvious thing sequentially is our backpacking trip to Wyoming, but my thoughts as well as the advice of most around me keeps coming back to one thing in particular. Not suprisingly though as this was the biggest event for me on that trip.
Well, so we get here to CO and meet for the first time on Monday; Tuesday morning we get up, meet our guides, and pack a few things to go backpacking in the mountains and snow of Wyoming for 6 days. We drove several hours to get to Laramie and got to a ridge of mountains called Snowy Range, a fitting name as probably anywhere from 75-90 percent of the 32 miles or so that we hiked was all snow.
Our beds, our meals, our clothes, and anything else we needed for the week was all on our backs. From Tuesday late afternoon to Sunday early afternoon we hiked, camped, talked, and bonded. I almost hate to use that word because of its nearly cliched nature, but that is the truth of it. It was four of us guys, plus Xan and Cory our leaders, and then two guides from RMR: Adam and Aaron. The four of us: me, Dan, Josh, and Campbell were all certainly brought closer over the week; our group that meshed well from the first day quickly became truly a band of brothers by the end of the week. But all eight of us really got to know each other and form relationships that will last for some time, even for lifetimes.
One of those relationships in particular is a big part of my experience on that mountain. Adam, our guide, and I became very close. Simply 'bonded' does not nearly do it justice. Something I said to him was that he and I were now 'forever bonded', eternally linked, our stories now permanently intertwined. But more on that later.
This is where some explanation comes for those of the readers that knew me before this summer. All that have met me recently know me as Adam (which is actually my middle name), but before the past two weeks everyone knew me only as Jonathan, my first name. I have gotten the sense for quite some time now (about 6-8 months or so) that one thing God had for me this summer was an experience of receiving my new name; of starting to go by my middle name, or my first initial and middle name, as my own dad does. John talks in Way of the Wild Heart about the new name experience for a man but moreover it can be seen many times in the lives of many Biblical characters, most notably (for me anyway) Jacob.
I had told Xan about it and we talked a few times on the phone before I got here, trying to figure out what it would look like, how it would take place over the course of the summer. But one thing I love about God is that no matter what plans we make, He always knows best and has the best in mind. This case was no different. I won’t bother with all the discussion or what I had ‘decided’ but simply say that God had in mind for the new name to begin that week for me.
The other three guys had started calling me Adam from the first night in the cabin, and basically for the first few days it was pretty transitional, people going back forth between Jonathan and Adam, Xan and Cory actually rarely calling me Adam. Actually, though I know it was part of the process, I told them all later that in the beginning there it felt fake, not quite right being called that at that time. But I’m getting ahead.
We hiked Tuesday and Wednesday through the snow, and I think all along I had the toughest go of it, many of my steps sinking into the snow and basically ‘postholing’ along much of the way. Wednesday night the guides told us about the next day- a rare thing actually as even still the four of us are usually kept in the dark about most of what is ever going on. Anyway, they told us the next day would be a ‘fun’ day, that we would not be taking packs but would be hiking to the top of a particular mountain, in fact not one we could see, one that was out of view but was bigger than what we could see. But this meant being up early and it being dark for a long time after leaving camp. We were all excited though.
So they weren’t kidding, it was dark for probably 2 or 3 hours after we left camp and we still had a couple hours before reaching the summit. That entire day was difficult. It was probably my own most difficult day but equally probable is that that day gave me a greater challenge than it gave anyone else. It was of course snow most of the way, but also sinking steps and postholes were common. I was at the front of the line, right behind Aaron, an awesome guide. This guy was an absolute trailblazer.
However, there was one stretch near the beginning, probably less than an hour into the day, where he was pounding down the holes of the steps and the real challenges started for me. The snow became firmer and Aaron was able to step up onto the snow and go about 15-20 feet or so without falling in. I, however, got up where he had stood firm and promptly sank right down. Another step up onto the snow and just as quickly I was back down in it. By the third step I knew what was coming. This entire stretch he had made on top of the snow but it would not support me. I started to trudge through, simply pushing the steps down, not expecting them to hold. I was feeling the oppression against me, and starting to fight. And then…
I didn’t notice Xan walk up the snow to be beside me. I just heard his voice. I felt his words deep inside me. “You can quit you know. You can just give this up and go home. Go ahead, just go on back to camp, back home where it’s safe, you can just watch movies, eat pizza and drink Pepsi. You don’t have to do this. You can quit now.” The tears burned my face like the fire burning in my chest. Hell no. I couldn’t quit. Not now, certainly not now. I quit now and all is lost. His words were not new; I had heard them before, many like them and many worse, from an enemy that truly meant them. All of the fire, the hate, the rage that boiled inside me like a steaming cauldron was not in any way directed at Xan, because I knew immediately his words were not his own, but rather directly by the Holy Spirit. A reminder of what lay ahead, of the opposition that faced me in my journey. God allowed Xan to articulate, for me and for everyone else to hear, all the words, the lies, the messages that the devil had already been whispering not only that morning but for years. And it worked.
I now saw clearly that this journey, that this trek up a mountain summit as well as all that it represented, would not go unchallenged. And all the anger for that fight, all the hatred I had for everything that adversary had stolen from me and done to me over the years seethed inside until it exploded out. Out of my face, my words, my body. “I can’t.” Was my short reply to Xan’s taunts. “Sure you can”, came back the quick, cold, and calm retort. He didn’t understand. “NO, I cannot quit, not now, I will not quit, you will not deter me!” And I set my face like a flint. With fury driving me I lifted each leg, step after step, out of the snow and pounded it down into the soft ice like a piston, driving it down to make the step secure and firm but also to firmly drive down a message. A message to myself, to that enemy, and to everyone around me: nothing will stop me here.
With that fire inside burning now more powerfully than any steam engine I made quick work of the distance between Aaron and myself, and went after the rest of the mountain with the same determination. Let me be clear however: I became exhausted. I certainly wasn’t running and jumping up the rocks. It’s just that I didn’t quit, I didn’t give up, even when all the pain in my body screamed for me to do just that.
I realized at least some of what making the summit of that mountain meant. I wasn’t just climbing a big rock. I was in search of my heart. My survival was on the line, the very existence of my soul, my deep heart as a man hanging in the balance. All could be lost, or all could be won, and only I could win or lose it.
So back for a moment to the name issue. Throughout the Bible we see the significance of the meaning of a person’s name. It is basically prophetic in most cases, almost like they were named after they had lived, the life so closely matched the meaning of the name. And knowing God had a name change in store for me was tied to the meaning of my names, both of which I have known for a long time. Jonathan means gift of God. Adam means man of the earth, or man of the red earth, or red man of the earth, this kind of thing. One relating much more to blessings and to being blessed. The other much more to work, toil and hard work, blood sweat and tears. And though the one is great and is what I have had all my life, I knew how badly I wanted and how desperately I needed the other. One of the first things Xan and Cory asked us to think and journal about was two questions: what are you leaving? and what is God calling you into? And two of my answers were that I was leaving Jonathan and coming into Adam; leaving the very blessed but somewhat easy life I had led and being called into an understanding of work and of working hard and toiling. I had shared all this with the others so everyone knew, as I did, the context that these names gave to this struggle for identity.
I knew instinctively as I climbed that I was fighting for my identity, for my new name. Probably a half mile or so from the top we stopped and Xan reminded us all of the story of Jacob and his struggle with God and what it meant. I was so exhausted in so many ways that I didn’t hear all that he said, but he got my mind onto the story, and God spoke. God opened my eyes and mind to a new thought. Maybe the enemy isn’t the only one throwing postholes in my path. Maybe the opposition isn’t all coming from one who wants me to fail. But rather, God is giving me some of the obstacles, for a couple reasons. One is that He believes in me, He knows I can do it and wants to show that to me. But another is more related to Jacob. Jacob wrestled with God, wanted to know the name of the angel, and in the end said he would not let go until God blessed him. God was asking me, “How much do you want this? What does this mean to you? What are you really willing to do for this?” And again the tears flowed as the hate and raged subsided and gave way to something greater. I was no longer fighting an enemy as much as striving for a friend, for my Father even. This was beyond the battle with one who wanted me to fail. This was now about succeeding for myself and for one who believed I could, and wanted me to achieve this and other great things. But God was telling me it would come at no small price. That if I really wanted it and it really meant something that it would be difficult, even costly.
And so I pushed on. The questions of what this meant for me and how much I wanted it reverberated in my soul as I climbed the rest of the way, and I would often answer back, sometimes aloud, that I would “not let you go until you bless me”. Finally, just before the summit, Xan and Cory stopped us and, starting with me they spoke to us and sent us up the last 50 or 100 yards uphill to the summit. They handed me a good sized stone and said that it represented all my shame, all the lies and messages I had lived under for so long, all the things that kept me from my heart and from living free, the things I had falsely believed about myself and my identity. I took it, held it with both hands and set off.
So they weren’t kidding, it was dark for probably 2 or 3 hours after we left camp and we still had a couple hours before reaching the summit. That entire day was difficult. It was probably my own most difficult day but equally probable is that that day gave me a greater challenge than it gave anyone else. It was of course snow most of the way, but also sinking steps and postholes were common. I was at the front of the line, right behind Aaron, an awesome guide. This guy was an absolute trailblazer.
However, there was one stretch near the beginning, probably less than an hour into the day, where he was pounding down the holes of the steps and the real challenges started for me. The snow became firmer and Aaron was able to step up onto the snow and go about 15-20 feet or so without falling in. I, however, got up where he had stood firm and promptly sank right down. Another step up onto the snow and just as quickly I was back down in it. By the third step I knew what was coming. This entire stretch he had made on top of the snow but it would not support me. I started to trudge through, simply pushing the steps down, not expecting them to hold. I was feeling the oppression against me, and starting to fight. And then…
I didn’t notice Xan walk up the snow to be beside me. I just heard his voice. I felt his words deep inside me. “You can quit you know. You can just give this up and go home. Go ahead, just go on back to camp, back home where it’s safe, you can just watch movies, eat pizza and drink Pepsi. You don’t have to do this. You can quit now.” The tears burned my face like the fire burning in my chest. Hell no. I couldn’t quit. Not now, certainly not now. I quit now and all is lost. His words were not new; I had heard them before, many like them and many worse, from an enemy that truly meant them. All of the fire, the hate, the rage that boiled inside me like a steaming cauldron was not in any way directed at Xan, because I knew immediately his words were not his own, but rather directly by the Holy Spirit. A reminder of what lay ahead, of the opposition that faced me in my journey. God allowed Xan to articulate, for me and for everyone else to hear, all the words, the lies, the messages that the devil had already been whispering not only that morning but for years. And it worked.
I now saw clearly that this journey, that this trek up a mountain summit as well as all that it represented, would not go unchallenged. And all the anger for that fight, all the hatred I had for everything that adversary had stolen from me and done to me over the years seethed inside until it exploded out. Out of my face, my words, my body. “I can’t.” Was my short reply to Xan’s taunts. “Sure you can”, came back the quick, cold, and calm retort. He didn’t understand. “NO, I cannot quit, not now, I will not quit, you will not deter me!” And I set my face like a flint. With fury driving me I lifted each leg, step after step, out of the snow and pounded it down into the soft ice like a piston, driving it down to make the step secure and firm but also to firmly drive down a message. A message to myself, to that enemy, and to everyone around me: nothing will stop me here.
With that fire inside burning now more powerfully than any steam engine I made quick work of the distance between Aaron and myself, and went after the rest of the mountain with the same determination. Let me be clear however: I became exhausted. I certainly wasn’t running and jumping up the rocks. It’s just that I didn’t quit, I didn’t give up, even when all the pain in my body screamed for me to do just that.
I realized at least some of what making the summit of that mountain meant. I wasn’t just climbing a big rock. I was in search of my heart. My survival was on the line, the very existence of my soul, my deep heart as a man hanging in the balance. All could be lost, or all could be won, and only I could win or lose it.
So back for a moment to the name issue. Throughout the Bible we see the significance of the meaning of a person’s name. It is basically prophetic in most cases, almost like they were named after they had lived, the life so closely matched the meaning of the name. And knowing God had a name change in store for me was tied to the meaning of my names, both of which I have known for a long time. Jonathan means gift of God. Adam means man of the earth, or man of the red earth, or red man of the earth, this kind of thing. One relating much more to blessings and to being blessed. The other much more to work, toil and hard work, blood sweat and tears. And though the one is great and is what I have had all my life, I knew how badly I wanted and how desperately I needed the other. One of the first things Xan and Cory asked us to think and journal about was two questions: what are you leaving? and what is God calling you into? And two of my answers were that I was leaving Jonathan and coming into Adam; leaving the very blessed but somewhat easy life I had led and being called into an understanding of work and of working hard and toiling. I had shared all this with the others so everyone knew, as I did, the context that these names gave to this struggle for identity.
I knew instinctively as I climbed that I was fighting for my identity, for my new name. Probably a half mile or so from the top we stopped and Xan reminded us all of the story of Jacob and his struggle with God and what it meant. I was so exhausted in so many ways that I didn’t hear all that he said, but he got my mind onto the story, and God spoke. God opened my eyes and mind to a new thought. Maybe the enemy isn’t the only one throwing postholes in my path. Maybe the opposition isn’t all coming from one who wants me to fail. But rather, God is giving me some of the obstacles, for a couple reasons. One is that He believes in me, He knows I can do it and wants to show that to me. But another is more related to Jacob. Jacob wrestled with God, wanted to know the name of the angel, and in the end said he would not let go until God blessed him. God was asking me, “How much do you want this? What does this mean to you? What are you really willing to do for this?” And again the tears flowed as the hate and raged subsided and gave way to something greater. I was no longer fighting an enemy as much as striving for a friend, for my Father even. This was beyond the battle with one who wanted me to fail. This was now about succeeding for myself and for one who believed I could, and wanted me to achieve this and other great things. But God was telling me it would come at no small price. That if I really wanted it and it really meant something that it would be difficult, even costly.
And so I pushed on. The questions of what this meant for me and how much I wanted it reverberated in my soul as I climbed the rest of the way, and I would often answer back, sometimes aloud, that I would “not let you go until you bless me”. Finally, just before the summit, Xan and Cory stopped us and, starting with me they spoke to us and sent us up the last 50 or 100 yards uphill to the summit. They handed me a good sized stone and said that it represented all my shame, all the lies and messages I had lived under for so long, all the things that kept me from my heart and from living free, the things I had falsely believed about myself and my identity. I took it, held it with both hands and set off.
And with that first step into the snow from the rocks we were on, I immediately sank knee deep into the snow. This was no surprise because if the entire journey was difficult then why would then end, the most important part, be any less? Just as quickly as my feet went into the snow, however, I ripped them up and onto the next step. I trudged, step by step up the arduous incline. About two thirds of the way I plummeted yet again into the snow, this time both legs together and closer to waist deep. I cursed the rock and tossed it with contempt ahead of me in the snow and used my hands to free myself from the ice. Getting back to my feet I took up my burden and kept going. I got to the top where Josh and Campbell awaited though they had both left after me, as well as Aaron who had gone on ahead to lead the way.I got to the top and stumbled my way to the monument where a stick and other stones signified the actual summit. Nearing the mound I threw my rock down onto the others and collapsed exhausted onto the stick. I all but fell to a seat next to Josh and wept, the tears flowing to release so much.
Tired body and soul I sat and cried until strength enough returned to shed my jackets and I stood in just my shorts and tshirt, arms outstretched like the scene from The Shawshank Redemption, free. Finally free. I looked around, looked up to the sky, and just felt the wind on my face, liberated, free from the burden I had so long carried. The feelings (for all of us up there) were all so deep, profound, and personal that I won’t tarnish them with too many words or attempts at description. I’ll just say that God did a lot of healing and loving on us up on that peak at 12,900 feet. We all took some pictures, and shared some words and moments up there before heading back down.
The rest of that day is really part of another story which, though integral to my own, I will wait to tell here for several reasons. I will, therefore, summarize it here and leave the details and deeper things for the hope of a day soon when that story, that part of my own story really, will be shared. I was more than exhausted before we even reached the summit, but the top drained me spiritually and emotionally as well. I was barely stumbling down when mountain when we started back. We stopped for breakfast before too long, though to me it was long and difficult getting even there. And yes, this was really the first we had eaten all morning- it was somewhere around 10 or 11 am and we had started between 2 and 3 that morning. Anyway, not long after breakfast and probably only about an hour and a half after the summit, we reached a long patch of deep and soft snow, basically we were all falling in, every step, even the lightest guys that rarely fell in before. Even walking in other footsteps I was still going in deeper and could hardly take it.
Somehow I managed to make it to the nearest island of rocks and dry ground though the entire group except Adam, one of the guides, was way ahead already. He had stayed behind to wait for me and keep me going, but when I got to those rocks I just collapsed. I was not only exhausted I was out of breath and told him as much (between my shallow gasps for air). I was panicking and hyperventilating but he got me calmed down, breathing better, and rested a bit, and got me down the mountain safely. All that is too short a summary for the second half of that day but like I said it is part of another story which I hope to tell soon.
The next night, Friday night, around the campfire Adam shared a bit of his past and his story, after which I thanked him again for all the he had done for me in getting me back down the mountain safely the day before. Xan said then that after all that he and the others had seen me do and go through the day before that it felt right, it felt like the appropriate time for me to receive that new name, and also right because of our experiences together for Adam our guide to bestow it upon me. I wept as Adam prayed over me and blessed me and gave me my new name and as each guy of our group came and hugged me, speaking words of love and affirmation in this new identity. Those that still quickly and deeply move me are Cory’s when he came up and held me tight, and repeated several times, “It is right to call you Adam. It is right now to call you Adam.” I was now the man of the earth, and certainly red in some places, my face and legs in particular. In fact those parts of my legs are still a bit sunburned.
Everyone later said that they saw a difference in me, even that night immediately after praying over me, a distinct difference in my countenance and the way I carried myself. I felt it too, and that night even; Campbell had set a trap for a fox and was sleeping outside to be ready if it got caught, so I took it upon myself to get lots of firewood from up the hill to keep the fire going for him and try to keep him warm as long as possible until the fox came. I wasn’t tired even though it was late and just kept hauling wood, and watching the fire, and looking at the stars, taking in the world and this newness. I slept outside that night too. The feeling didn’t go away though. That night, the next day, and the next, and the next, just like they had prayed, “Adam” was sealed on my heart, it was everywhere I looked, in all that I saw and did and felt and thought. Like I was seeing life and the world through new eyes, through lenses of this new name, this new identity. Like Cory said, it was now right, and it no longer felt for me contrived or awkward as it had at times before. Jonathan had fought, struggled in the snow and made it up that mountain. But along the way a shift occurred and he remained there while Adam is the one that came down the mountain back to the world.
There are more stories of this experience, and more memories I’d be happy to share with any who is interested, but basically, that is the story of my new name, the story of my experience in the mountains of Wyoming and how I came to be called Adam. This is how the story of Jacob became for me, so much more than another Bible story but rather, my story. And now, no longer will I be known as Jonathan, but as Adam, for I have struggled and wrestled with God and with men and have overcome.
The rest of that day is really part of another story which, though integral to my own, I will wait to tell here for several reasons. I will, therefore, summarize it here and leave the details and deeper things for the hope of a day soon when that story, that part of my own story really, will be shared. I was more than exhausted before we even reached the summit, but the top drained me spiritually and emotionally as well. I was barely stumbling down when mountain when we started back. We stopped for breakfast before too long, though to me it was long and difficult getting even there. And yes, this was really the first we had eaten all morning- it was somewhere around 10 or 11 am and we had started between 2 and 3 that morning. Anyway, not long after breakfast and probably only about an hour and a half after the summit, we reached a long patch of deep and soft snow, basically we were all falling in, every step, even the lightest guys that rarely fell in before. Even walking in other footsteps I was still going in deeper and could hardly take it.
Somehow I managed to make it to the nearest island of rocks and dry ground though the entire group except Adam, one of the guides, was way ahead already. He had stayed behind to wait for me and keep me going, but when I got to those rocks I just collapsed. I was not only exhausted I was out of breath and told him as much (between my shallow gasps for air). I was panicking and hyperventilating but he got me calmed down, breathing better, and rested a bit, and got me down the mountain safely. All that is too short a summary for the second half of that day but like I said it is part of another story which I hope to tell soon.
The next night, Friday night, around the campfire Adam shared a bit of his past and his story, after which I thanked him again for all the he had done for me in getting me back down the mountain safely the day before. Xan said then that after all that he and the others had seen me do and go through the day before that it felt right, it felt like the appropriate time for me to receive that new name, and also right because of our experiences together for Adam our guide to bestow it upon me. I wept as Adam prayed over me and blessed me and gave me my new name and as each guy of our group came and hugged me, speaking words of love and affirmation in this new identity. Those that still quickly and deeply move me are Cory’s when he came up and held me tight, and repeated several times, “It is right to call you Adam. It is right now to call you Adam.” I was now the man of the earth, and certainly red in some places, my face and legs in particular. In fact those parts of my legs are still a bit sunburned.
Everyone later said that they saw a difference in me, even that night immediately after praying over me, a distinct difference in my countenance and the way I carried myself. I felt it too, and that night even; Campbell had set a trap for a fox and was sleeping outside to be ready if it got caught, so I took it upon myself to get lots of firewood from up the hill to keep the fire going for him and try to keep him warm as long as possible until the fox came. I wasn’t tired even though it was late and just kept hauling wood, and watching the fire, and looking at the stars, taking in the world and this newness. I slept outside that night too. The feeling didn’t go away though. That night, the next day, and the next, and the next, just like they had prayed, “Adam” was sealed on my heart, it was everywhere I looked, in all that I saw and did and felt and thought. Like I was seeing life and the world through new eyes, through lenses of this new name, this new identity. Like Cory said, it was now right, and it no longer felt for me contrived or awkward as it had at times before. Jonathan had fought, struggled in the snow and made it up that mountain. But along the way a shift occurred and he remained there while Adam is the one that came down the mountain back to the world.
There are more stories of this experience, and more memories I’d be happy to share with any who is interested, but basically, that is the story of my new name, the story of my experience in the mountains of Wyoming and how I came to be called Adam. This is how the story of Jacob became for me, so much more than another Bible story but rather, my story. And now, no longer will I be known as Jonathan, but as Adam, for I have struggled and wrestled with God and with men and have overcome.
