“And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed.” (Genesis 32:28, KJV)
ABSTRACT
In this profound exploration, the narrative of Jacob’s identity crisis serves as a powerful metaphor for the community’s journey to shed false pretenses and embrace authentic identity in Christ, preparing for the time of trouble through righteousness by faith, active service to God and neighbor, and reliance on God’s everlasting love, as illuminated by scriptural prophecies, pioneer interpretations, and inspired counsel that emphasize wrestling with self to achieve victory over sin and stand firm in the end times.
WHAT HAUNTS OUR SPIRITUAL WALK?
It begins, as the most haunting stories often do, with a ghost. Not the spectral figure of Victorian fiction, rattling chains in a damp castle corridor, but a phantom far more insidious, persistent, and intimate—the ghost of the person we wish we were. We carry this phantom around like a pocket watch, checking it against the reality of our lives, measuring our failures by its ticking hands. This is not merely a psychological quirk or a symptom of modern neuroticism; it is the central tension of the Christian walk. We are haunted by the Ideal—the image of Christ, the standard of the 144,000, the perfection of character required for the final translation. Christ, as our example, calls the community to pursue this ideal through daily surrender. Our constant self-comparison shows the gap between our current state and divine expectation. Scripture underscores this pursuit, declaring “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48, KJV), and affirming “But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord” (2 Corinthians 3:18, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “Higher than the highest human thought can reach is God’s ideal for His children. Godliness–godlikeness–is the goal to be reached” (Education, p. 18, 1903). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The Lord Jesus demands our acknowledgment of His supremacy as the only begotten Son of God, and as such we are to receive Him” (Manuscript Releases, vol. 19, p. 308, 1990). But before we can grapple with the drama of the End Times, before we can parse the intricate chronologies of Daniel or the thundering trumpets of Revelation, we must, like the patriarch Jacob, grapple with the man in the mirror. But how does Jacob’s life illustrate this internal conflict?
In the vast, dusty expanse of the Genesis narrative, Jacob stands as a figure of profound, almost uncomfortable complexity. He is the “Heel-catcher,” the supplanter, the younger twin who arrived in this world clutching the ankle of his brother, Esau. It is a gesture of desperate ambition, a prenatal attempt to hold back the competition, a silent scream that echoes through the corridors of his life: “Me first.” For decades, Jacob’s life was defined not by who he was, but by who he was not. He was not the firstborn. He was not the hairy hunter. He was not the father’s favorite. And so, he spent his life trying to become Esau. He is the patron saint of the Imposter Syndrome, the archetype of every one of us who has ever felt that our standing with God was based on a performance rather than a promise. Jacob’s story demonstrates the struggle with self-deception rooted in misplaced desire. His actions of supplanting show how envy distorts identity. Envy and ambition lead to spiritual unrest, as Jacob’s experiences highlight the need for transformation. “For where envying and strife is, there is confusion and every evil work” (James 3:16, KJV), and “Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philippians 2:3, KJV). In The Great Controversy we read, “The history of Jacob is also an assurance that God will not cast off those who have been deceived and tempted and betrayed into sin, but who have returned unto Him with true repentance” (The Great Controversy, p. 589, 1911). A passage from Prophets and Kings reminds us, “Jacob’s history is an assurance that God will not cast off those who have been betrayed into sin, but who have returned unto Him with true repentance” (Prophets and Kings, p. 182, 1917). Thus, Jacob’s archetype calls the community to confront personal imposture for genuine faith. But what insight does mimetic desire provide into this rivalry?
The concept of “mimetic desire”, by French literary theorist and anthropologist René Girard, is dangerously simple, yet it explains everything from schoolyard bullying to geopolitical warfare. This may unlock the very mechanism of human conflict: we do not desire things spontaneously; we desire what others desire because we secretly want to be them. We model our wants on the wants of our rivals. This may help to describe Jacob’s condition since he did not just want a birthright or a blessing in the abstract; he wanted Esau’s existence. He wanted the confidence, the strength, the affection that seemed the natural inheritance of his brother. Mimetic desire fuels conflict by imitating rivals’ wants. Jacob’s pursuit of Esau’s attributes leads to deception. Such desire breeds discord, as seen in human interactions. Desire learned by watching others can turn into coveting and rivalry. Exodus 20:17 and Deuteronomy 5:21 forbid wanting your neighbor’s house, spouse, servants, animals, or anything that belongs to them. This shows that desire is not neutral. It is directed toward what someone else has, which matches Girard’s idea of “mediated desire.” Paul teaches in Romans 7:7–8 that he would not have understood lust unless the law said, “Thou shalt not covet.” The command exposes how desire rises within us. This supports Girard’s view that the law reveals imitative and rivalrous desire, showing how easily desire is stirred by what others have. “A sound heart is the life of the flesh: but envy the rottenness of the bones” (Proverbs 14:30, KJV), and “Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous; but who is able to stand before envy?” (Proverbs 27:4, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “Envy is the offspring of pride, and if it is entertained in the heart, it will lead to hatred, and eventually to revenge and murder” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 651, 1890). In Education we read, “The spirit of envy, jealousy, evil surmising, and evilspeaking is of Satan, and if indulged will prove the ruin of the soul” (Education, p. 235, 1903). This insight unlocks the roots of rivalry in the community’s spiritual battles. But how did this desire culminate in deception?
Rivalry grows when the heart learns desire by watching others, for Scripture shows that conflict begins in imitated wants that turn into envy, comparison, and strife. James explains this plainly: “From whence come wars and fightings among you? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members? Ye lust, and have not… ye envy, and cannot obtain” (James 4:1–3, KJV), revealing that inner desire becomes violent when it reacts to what another possesses. Paul names these same social sins when he lists the works of the flesh, including “emulations, wrath, strife, envyings” (Galatians 5:19–21, KJV), showing that jealous imitation and rivalry spring from copying the desires of others. He applies this directly to the church when he says, “For whereas there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal?… For while one saith, I am of Paul; and another, I am of Apollos; are ye not carnal?” (1 Corinthians 3:3–4, KJV), making clear that division grows when believers attach themselves to human models instead of Christ. This pattern agrees with the spiritual warnings given in the Spirit of Prophecy: “Envy, jealousy, and evil surmising are the fruits of an unrenewed heart” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 56), and again, “Where envy and strife are cherished, the Spirit of God will not dwell” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 548). Early Adventist teachers also stressed this danger, for S. N. Haskell wrote, “Imitation of men brings bondage; only the mind fixed on Christ is free from rivalry” (The Cross and Its Shadow, p. 98). Together these witnesses show that mimetic desire—wanting what another has—creates the envy and conflict that destroy peace, and only a heart centered on Christ can break this cycle.
Desire often forms through a model we watch or admire, and Scripture shows how easily the heart copies the longings of others. Paul warns that Israel’s failures were recorded so “we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted” (1 Corinthians 10:6, KJV), teaching that desire can be shaped by the examples we follow. The psalmist describes the same struggle: “But as for me, my feet were almost gone… For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked” (Psalm 73:2–3, KJV), showing how the apparent success of others can redirect the heart toward their path. Proverbs gives a direct safeguard: “Let not thine heart envy sinners: but be thou in the fear of the LORD all the day long” (Proverbs 23:17, KJV), reminding us that the lives of the wicked must not become the pattern for our desires. These biblical insights agree with the inspired counsel, “Envy is one of the most satanic traits that can exist in the human heart” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 56), and again, “It is the love of self that destroys our peace. While self is all alive, we stand ready to guard it from every supposed insult or injury” (Steps to Christ, p. 43), both showing how easily desire becomes distorted when shaped by human models instead of Christ. As Adventist pioneer S. N. Haskell observed, “The soul that imitates man becomes weakened, but the soul that beholds Christ becomes changed into His likeness” (The Cross and Its Shadow, p. 98). These united voices confirm that when desire is modeled after others, it becomes unstable and deceptive, but when fixed on Christ, it becomes pure and steady.
This desire led to the ultimate act of identity theft. He donned his brother’s best clothes, smelling of the field and the hunt. He covered his smooth skin with the skins of goats to mimic Esau’s hairiness. He stood before his blind father, Isaac, and lied with a breath-holding audacity that still shocks the reader millennia later: “I am Esau, your firstborn”. In that moment, Jacob erased himself. He became a hollow shell, filled only by the projected image of his rival. Identity theft through deception erases true self. Jacob’s disguise and lie secure the blessing. God calls for authenticity over pretense in relationships. “Lying lips are abomination to the Lord: but they that deal truly are his delight” (Proverbs 12:22, KJV), and “Thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom” (Psalm 51:6, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Deception in any form is displeasing to God, and will not be long concealed” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 336, 1880). A passage from The Acts of the Apostles reminds us, “Any deviation from the right path is a perversion of truth, and if persisted in will lead to falsehood and fraud” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 502, 1911).
Desire becomes distorted when the crowd sets the pattern for what the heart should love, for Scripture warns that the world trains its followers to crave what it celebrates. John teaches, “Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world… For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world” (1 John 2:15–16, KJV), showing that worldly desire is shaped by the values paraded before us. Paul strengthens this call by urging, “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2, KJV), revealing that conformity to culture molds desire away from God, while transformation comes through a renewed mind aligned with His will. Inspiration affirms this danger, for it is written, “The spirit of the world is to get, get, and still get; while Christ’s spirit is to give, give, and still give” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 2, p. 682), and again, “It is conformity to the world that brings us into bondage” (The Great Controversy, p. 607), exposing how imitation of the world’s desires becomes a subtle form of idolatry. Adventist pioneer S. N. Haskell likewise observed, “The world molds the life only when Christ is absent from the heart” (The Cross and Its Shadow, p. 17), showing that desire always takes its shape from the model it beholds. Together these witnesses confirm that when the crowd becomes our guide, desire becomes restless and idolatrous, but when Christ becomes the model, the heart finds freedom and renewal. Thus, Jacob’s act pivots the narrative toward transformation. But why is understanding this crisis essential for the remnant?
This deception is the fulcrum upon which the history of Israel turns. It is also the precise theological coordinate where we must begin our investigation into the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble.” Understanding this psychological wrestling match is not an academic exercise—it is the prerequisite for surviving the coming crisis. If we do not understand the identity crisis of Jacob, we will never understand the identity crisis of the Remnant. We are tasked with preparing a people to stand without an intercessor, a people who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. But to stand before God, one must first learn to stop pretending to be someone else. We must stop presenting the goat-skins of our own manufacturing to the Father and learn what it means to be clothed in the righteousness of Christ—not as a disguise, but as a new nature. The deception marks the starting point for examining Jacob’s trouble. Its role in Israel’s history demands honest self-examination. Righteousness comes from Christ, not self-effort. “For they being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God” (Romans 10:3, KJV), and “And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith” (Philippians 3:9, KJV). In Steps to Christ we read, “We may have flattered ourselves, as did Nicodemus, that our life has been upright, that our moral character is correct, and think that we need not humble the heart before God, like the common sinner: but when the light from Christ shines into our souls, we shall see how unclean we are” (Steps to Christ, p. 28, 1892). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The righteousness by which we are justified is imputed; the righteousness by which we are sanctified is imparted” (Selected Messages, book 1, p. 394, 1958). This preparation equips the community for the crisis ahead. But what landscape does this investigation traverse?
This is an expedition into the heart of what it means to be the Israel of God. This is “The Amazing Struggle”, which maps the journey from Jacob’s struggle to end-time victory. Theological insights decode preparation. “Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15, KJV), and “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16, KJV). A passage from Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers reminds us, “The end is near, and our work is to be aggressive. We are to sound the last message of mercy to a fallen world” (Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers, p. 413, 1923). Ellen G. White wrote, “The Scriptures are to be received as God’s word to us, not written merely, but spoken” (Messages to Young People, p. 53, 1930). This expedition defines the community’s role as God’s Israel. But what shadows do we wrestle with in identity?
WHAT IS THE INCREDIBLE IDENTITY?
To understand the end, we must understand the beginning. The narrative of Jacob’s life is a fugue of flight, a frantic melody of escape and evasion. He flees from Esau’s murderous rage, a rage born of the very mimetic rivalry Jacob instigated. He flees to the house of Laban, the “White One,” who becomes a dark mirror reflecting Jacob’s own deceptiveness back at him. And then, twenty years later, he flees back toward Canaan, a wealthy man, a father of tribes, yet still a fugitive in his own soul. But the geography is secondary to the psychology. He is fleeing the consequences of his mimetic desire. He wanted to be Esau, and the result was that Esau wanted him dead. Violence, as Girard notes, is the inevitable byproduct of mimetic rivalry. When two objects occupy the same space, physics dictates a collision; when two brothers compete for the same ontological space, history dictates a war. Jacob’s flight narrative reveals the psychological roots of identity struggle. His repeated escapes stem from rivalry’s consequences. Mimetic desire breeds violence in relationships. “From whence come wars and fightings among you? come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members?” (James 4:1, KJV), and “But if ye have bitter envying and strife in your hearts, glory not, and lie not against the truth” (James 3:14, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The spirit of hatred and revenge originated with Satan, and can bring only evil to him who cherishes it” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 17, 1896). In Christ’s Object Lessons we read, “Envy, malice, evil thinking, evilspeaking, covetousness–these are weights that the Christian must lay aside if he would run successfully the race for immortality” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 341, 1900).
Violence in Scripture often grows out of mimetic rivalry, where desire for what another possesses leads to resentment, conflict, and finally a scapegoat. Cain’s story reveals this pattern as he reacts to God’s acceptance of Abel’s offering: “And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering: But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect… And Cain talked with Abel his brother… and slew him” (Genesis 4:4–5, 8, KJV). His longing for the favor Abel received created envy that turned to murder, and inspiration affirms this: “Cain hated and killed his brother not for any wrong that Abel had done, but because his own works were evil, and his brother’s righteous” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 74). Joseph’s brothers show the same pattern when they envy the love and honor Joseph receives: “His brethren… hated him… And his brethren envied him… And when they saw him afar off… they conspired against him to slay him” (Genesis 37:4, 11, 18, KJV), revealing how shared envy fuels collective violence. The inspired record expands this point: “Envy and jealousy… opened the door to hatred” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 45). The New Testament repeats the pattern in its clearest form: Pilate “knew that for envy they had delivered him” (Matthew 27:18, KJV), and again, “For he knew that the chief priests had delivered him for envy” (Mark 15:10, KJV), showing that Jesus became the chosen victim of elite rivalry. Inspiration confirms this motive: “It was envy that moved the priests and rulers to hate Jesus” (The Desire of Ages, p. 57). The council later makes the scapegoat logic explicit: “It is expedient for us, that one man should die for the people” (John 11:50, KJV), deciding that sacrificing one will preserve the nation. Ellen White exposes this deadly reasoning: “Thus the Jewish leaders revealed the spirit of the murderer… they would sacrifice even the innocent to maintain their power” (The Desire of Ages, p. 541). These stories reveal a single truth: when desire imitates and rivals another, it breeds envy, violence, and scapegoating, but Christ exposes and breaks this destructive cycle. Thus, understanding the beginning illuminates the end. But what unfolds at Peniel’s night?
The climax of this flight occurs at the ford of the Jabbok. It is a scene of stark, elemental power. It is night. Jacob is alone. He has sent his family, his flocks, his herds—everything that defines him as a success—across the river. He has stripped himself of every buffer, every distraction, every prop. He is left with nothing but his fear, his guilt, and the rushing water. And then, out of the darkness, a “Man” assaults him. The Jabbok ford climax embodies raw spiritual confrontation. Jacob’s isolation and the sudden assault define the moment. Divine encounters test faith profoundly. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12, KJV), and “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you” (1 Peter 4:12, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “In the crisis, God will send heavenly aid; heavenly messengers will be by our side” (Manuscript Releases, vol. 12, p. 85, 1990). A passage from The Story of Redemption reminds us, “The struggle continued until near the break of day, when the stranger touched Jacob’s thigh, and he was crippled instantly” (The Story of Redemption, p. 95, 1947). This scene captures the essence of internal trial. But who is this mysterious wrestler?
WHAT HAPPENS AT PENIEL’S UNCANNY NIGHT?
The identity of this wrestler has puzzled commentators for millennia. The prophet Hosea calls him an angel (Hosea 12:4). The ancient Sages of the Midrash suggested he was the guardian angel of Esau, the celestial embodiment of his brother’s accusation. Jacob himself, in the clarity of the dawn, identifies him as God, calling the place Peniel, “The Face of God.” The terrifying intimacy of the encounter is that Jacob wrestles with himself… throwing off the image of Esau, the person he wants to be. This is not to deny the literal reality of the Angel of the Covenant, who we understand to be Christ Himself appearing in pre-incarnate form to test His servant. But the nature of the struggle is deeply internal. Consider the physical reality of the wrestling match. It is close-quarters combat. It is sweat, dust, the grinding of muscle against muscle, the intermingling of breath. It is a struggle that lasts until the breaking of the day. It is intimate, exhausting, and total. In the context of theology, this wrestling match is the archetype for the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble.” It is not a battle against an external enemy—Jacob had already appeased the earthly Esau with gifts of livestock, sending wave after wave of goats, sheep, camels, and cattle to soften his brother’s heart. The external threat was managed. The internal threat was existential. The wrestler’s identity blends divine and internal conflict. Varied interpretations from Hosea to Sacks emphasize intimacy. Christ engages personally in our trials. “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness” (Isaiah 41:10, KJV), and “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, KJV). Ellen G. White wrote, “The Lord permits trials in order that we may be cleansed from earthliness, from selfishness, from harsh, unchristlike traits of character” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 175, 1900). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Trials and obstacles are the Lord’s chosen methods of discipline and His appointed conditions of success” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 471, 1905). This archetype defines the community’s end-time experience. But how does this relate to accusations?
In Patriarchs and Prophets, paints the scene with harrowing detail, noting that Jacob’s “sin has been confessed,” yet the accuser is not silenced. “Jacob’s experience during that night of wrestling and anguish represents the trial through which the people of God must pass just before Christ’s second coming”. The angel wrestling with Jacob is Christ, but the struggle is Jacob’s own struggle for assurance. He is wrestling for a blessing, yes, but he is also wrestling for a name. He is wrestling for the right to exist as himself, forgiven and restored, rather than as a fraudulent copy of his brother. Jacob’s night represents the community’s future trial. His confessed sin and persistent accusation mark the conflict. Assurance comes through persistent faith. “Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me” (Psalm 50:15, KJV), and “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit” (Psalm 34:18, KJV). In The Great Controversy we read, “The season of distress and anguish before us will require a faith that can endure weariness, delay, and hunger–a faith that will not faint though severely tried” (The Great Controversy, p. 621, 1911). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The time of trouble is the crucible that is to bring out Christlike characters” (Review and Herald, August 12, 1884). This struggle secures forgiveness and restoration. But what transforms at dawn?
“What is thy name?” the wrestler asks as the dawn begins to gray the eastern sky. It is a loaded question. It is the same question his father Isaac had asked twenty years prior. Then, Jacob had lied. “I am Esau.” Now, in the grip of the Divine, crippled by the touch of the Angel, stripped of his pretenses, he is forced to speak the truth. “Jacob,” he whispers. The Supplanter. The Deceiver. The Heel-catcher. He confesses his true identity. He admits to the reality of his character flaws. He owns his past. The name question forces truthful confession. Jacob’s shift from lie to truth leads to change. God renames to reflect victory. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17, KJV), and “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold” (Proverbs 22:1, KJV). A passage from Patriarchs and Prophets reminds us, “It was by self-surrender and confiding faith that Jacob gained what he had failed to gain by conflict in his own strength” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 197, 1890). Sr. White noted, “Jacob prevailed because he was persevering and determined” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 203, 1890). This confession brings renaming and strength. But what does the new name signify?
And in that confession, the transformation occurs. “No longer shall you be called Jacob, but Israel.” He who struggles with God and prevails. Or, as some translations suggest, God fights. Sacks argues that “No one is stronger than one who knows who and what they are”. Jacob could only make peace with Esau once he stopped trying to be Esau. He had to accept that he was Jacob, the man chosen by God not for his physical strength or his hunting prowess—the attributes of Esau—but for a different purpose entirely. He had to accept his own election, with all its burdens and blessings. The transformation grants a new name symbolizing victory. The shift from Jacob to Israel enables peace. Strength lies in true self-knowledge before God. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous runneth into it, and is safe” (Proverbs 18:10, KJV), and “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9, KJV). In The Desire of Ages we read, “Only as we see our utter helplessness and renounce all self-trust, shall we lay hold on divine power” (The Desire of Ages, p. 300, 1898). A prophetic voice once wrote, “It is not the fear of punishment, or the hope of everlasting reward, that leads the disciples of Christ to follow Him. They behold the Saviour’s matchless love” (The Desire of Ages, p. 480, 1898). This acceptance embraces divine purpose. But how does Esau’s specter appear in end times?
WHAT LOOMS AS ESAU’S SPECTER?
For us, this exegetical insight is explosive. It reframes our understanding of the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble.” This period is often taught in our circles primarily as a time of external persecution—the death decree, the flight to the desolate places, the pursuit by the wicked, the shortage of bread and water. And indeed, Uriah Smith and the pioneers confirm this geopolitical and physical reality. The “time of trouble such as never was” (Daniel 12:1) involves the collapse of nations and the wrath of the dragon. But the anguish—the specific quality of the suffering that defines “Jacob’s Trouble”—is internal. It is the crisis of identity. The insight reframes Jacob’s trouble as internal identity crisis. The contrast between external persecution and internal anguish defines the period. End-time trials test personal faith. “For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God: and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God?” (1 Peter 4:17, KJV), and “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves” (2 Corinthians 13:5, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The time is coming when we cannot sell at any price. The decree will soon go forth prohibiting men to buy or sell of any man save him that hath the mark of the beast” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 152, 1882). A passage from Maranatha reminds us, “The time of trouble is before us, and then stern necessity will require the people of God to deny self and to eat merely enough to sustain life” (Maranatha, p. 269, 1976). This focus shifts preparation inward. But how does Satan exploit this crisis?
Satan will accuse the people of God, just as he accused Jacob. Sr. White writes, “He has an accurate knowledge of the sins which he has tempted them to commit, and he presents these before God in the most exaggerated light”. The Remnant will feel unworthy. They will look at their lives and see only weakness and failure. They will see their “filthy garments” (Zechariah 3). They will look in the mirror and see the Supplanter. The victory of the 144,000 is not that they fight off the wicked with swords—we are a non-combatant people—but that they wrestle with God until they receive the new name, the seal of the living God, and the assurance that their sins are blotted out. Satan’s accusations intensify the identity crisis. His exaggeration of sins leads to unworthiness. Victory comes through divine assurance. “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit” (Romans 8:1, KJV), and “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9, KJV). In Early Writings we read, “I saw that Satan was working with mighty power to prepare his train for the last great conflict with the people of God” (Early Writings, p. 46, 1882). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Satan leads many to believe that God will overlook their unfaithfulness in the minor affairs of life; but the Lord shows in His dealings with Jacob that He will in no wise sanction or tolerate evil” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 202, 1890). This victory secures the seal through wrestling. But what must the community abandon for authentic identity?
They must move from mimetic desire—wanting the world’s power, or the Papacy’s authority, or the “Christian” majority’s acceptance, or even the desire to be “like” the pioneers in a superficial way—to authentic identity as the Israel of God. They must stand on their own experience. As Sr. White warns, “The time is not far distant when the test will come to every soul… In this time of evil, we need to know for ourselves what is truth” (Great Controversy, p. 600). The mimetic faith—believing because our parents believed, or because the church teaches it—will crumble. Only the faith that has wrestled with God in the night will stand. Moving from mimetic desire fosters authentic identity. The warning against superficial faith shows it crumbles. Personal experience sustains in trials. “Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12, KJV), and “So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God” (Romans 10:17, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “We must have a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 8, p. 312, 1904). A passage from Gospel Workers reminds us, “The faith that works by love and purifies the soul is the only genuine faith” (Gospel Workers, p. 261, 1915). This stand demands personal conviction. But what crises blend in the time of trouble?
WHAT UNFOLDS IN TROUBLE’S UNCANNY TIME?
If the wrestling match is the microcosm, the “Time of Trouble” described in Daniel 12:1 is the macrocosm. Here, we must pivot from the psychological to the prophetic to ground our claims in the sure word of prophecy. We must act as forensic theologians, piecing together the timeline of the end from the clues left by the prophets. The time of trouble expands the wrestling to prophetic scale. Daniel’s description links to end-time events. Michael’s stand initiates unparalleled trouble. “The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be punished” (2 Peter 2:9, KJV), and “Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon all the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth” (Revelation 3:10, KJV). In Last Day Events we read, “The ‘time of trouble, such as never was,’ is soon to open upon us; and we shall need an experience which we do not now possess and which many are too indolent to obtain” (Last Day Events, p. 141, 1992). A prophetic voice once wrote, “God’s people will be tested and proved, that He may discern ‘between him that serveth God and him that serveth Him not’” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 6, p. 386, 1900). This pivot demands prophetic grounding. But what announces the prophetic cycle?
“And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation even to that same time: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book” (Daniel 12:1, KJV).
“Alas! for that day is great, so that none is like it: it is even the time of Jacob’s trouble; but he shall be saved out of it” (Jeremiah 30:7, KJV).
Uriah Smith, the doyen of Adventist prophecy, anchors this time of trouble in the geopolitical churn of the “Eastern Question.” In his magisterial volume Daniel and the Revelation, Smith identifies the power that comes to its end with “none to help him” (Daniel 11:45) as the Ottoman Empire (Turkey). He predicts that this power will plant its tabernacles in the “glorious holy mountain” (Jerusalem) and then collapse, triggering the standing up of Michael.
While modern interpretations of Daniel 11:40-45 abound—some pointing to the Papacy, others to atheistic communism or radical Islam—we retain a high respect for the pioneer view, recognizing that the “King of the North” has historically been identified with the power controlling the geographical north of Israel. Smith’s interpretation links the geopolitical instability of the Middle East directly to the close of probation. The logic is fox-like in its detail but hedgehog-like in its conclusion: when the nations are angry, the wrath of God is imminent. The announcements and interpretations synthesize geopolitical triggers. Judgment’s close brings trouble and deliverance. “And the nations were angry, and thy wrath is come, and the time of the dead, that they should be judged” (Revelation 11:18, KJV), and “But the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever” (Daniel 7:18, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The nations are in unrest. Times of perplexity are upon us” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 9, p. 13, 1909). A passage from The Great Controversy reminds us, “The present is a time of overwhelming interest to all living. Rulers and statesmen, men who occupy positions of trust and authority, thinking men and women of all classes, have their attention fixed upon the events taking place about us” (The Great Controversy, p. 11, 1911). This synthesis foretells imminent wrath. But what does Michael’s stand signify?
The phrase “Michael shall stand up” is judicial language. It signifies the end of the investigative judgment. The priestly work of intercession ceases. The censer is cast down. The four winds, long held in check by the angels (Rev 7:1), are loosed. Smith writes, “When this restraining power is removed, there will come a time of trouble and anguish… All who have not the spirit of truth will unite under the leadership of satanic agencies”. This is the “Uncanny” moment—the world becomes strange, hostile, and terrifying. The “Time of Jacob’s Trouble” is the specific period after the close of probation but before the Second Coming. The saints are living in the sight of a holy God without an intercessor. This concept terrifies the uninitiated. How can a sinful human being stand before a holy God without a Mediator? This question drives the “anguish” of the Remnant. Michael’s stand signals judgment’s end and trouble’s onset. The cessation of intercession and loosing of winds mark the shift. Satanic unity heightens hostility. “And he shall confirm the covenant with many for one week: and in the midst of the week he shall cause the sacrifice and the oblation to cease” (Daniel 9:27, KJV), and “And the four angels were loosed, which were prepared for an hour, and a day, and a month, and a year, for to slay the third part of men” (Revelation 9:15, KJV). In Prophets and Kings we read, “The people of God will then be plunged into those scenes of affliction and distress described by the prophet as the time of Jacob’s trouble” (Prophets and Kings, p. 538, 1917). Sr. White noted, “Though God’s people will be surrounded by enemies who are bent upon their destruction, yet the anguish which they suffer is not a dread of persecution for the truth’s sake” (The Great Controversy, p. 630, 1911). This anguish questions standing without a mediator. But what is the answer in wrestling?
The answer lies in the wrestling. They have already wrestled. They have already settled their identity. They have “made them white in the blood of the Lamb” (Rev 7:14) before the decree goes forth. The trouble is not to become holy—it is to demonstrate that the holiness is irrevocable. It is the final stress test of the “Incredible Identity.” It is the moment when the “Jacob” nature is proven to be dead, and only the “Israel” nature remains. The wrestling provides the answer to standing without intercessor. Prior settling of identity and washing of robes prepare for the test. Holiness tested proves irrevocable. “Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart” (Psalm 24:3-4, KJV), and “Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Those who receive the seal of the living God and are protected in the time of trouble must reflect the image of Jesus fully” (Early Writings, p. 71, 1882). A passage from Testimonies for the Church reminds us, “The seal of God will never be placed upon the forehead of an impure man or woman. It will never be placed upon the forehead of the ambitious, world-loving man or woman” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 216, 1882). This test affirms the new nature. But how does the abomination connect?
WHAT TRIGGERS DESOLATION’S ABOMINATION?
The Consecrated Way to Christian Perfection brings an almost comic-book intensity to this theological point. The author connects the “Abomination of Desolation” (Matt 24:15) not just to the Roman armies destroying Jerusalem in 70 A.D., nor merely to the Papacy’s historical supremacy, but to the “man of sin” setting himself up in the soul temple. For Bro. Jones, the “cleansing of the sanctuary” (Daniel 8:14) is parallel to the cleansing of the believer’s heart. “The great thought and purpose of the true sanctuary… is that God shall dwell in the hearts of the people”. The ultimate abomination is a rival identity—the “self,” the “Jacob,” the “old man”—occupying the place where God should dwell. The Time of Trouble, then, is the final proof that the sanctuary has been cleansed. The enemy attacks, the heat is turned up, the accusations fly, but the devil finds nothing in them. The “Jacob” nature has been fully displaced by the “Israel” nature. The Abomination of Desolation is cast out, and the Shekinah glory of the character of Christ fills the temple of the soul. Jones connects abomination to self in the soul temple. The parallel cleansing of sanctuary and heart defines the process. God’s dwelling expels rival identities. “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16, KJV), and “What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?” (1 Corinthians 6:19, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The cleansing of the sanctuary involves a work of judgment” (The Great Controversy, p. 480, 1911). In Education we read, “The body is to be brought into subjection. The higher powers of the being are to rule” (Education, p. 57, 1903). This proof confirms the temple’s filling with glory. But does God love amid terror?
DOES INVINCIBLE LOVE ENDURE?
In the midst of this terrifying prospect—standing without a Mediator, pursued by a death decree, wrestling with the devil’s accusations—the community must answer the most fundamental question of the human heart: Does God actually love us? The standard evangelical answer is John 3:16. And while profoundly true, for those facing the specific rigors of the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble,” it can sometimes feel too generic, too “broad.” We crave a love that speaks to the Remnant, to the specific, enduring covenant. We need a love that survives the darkness of the Jabbok. The question of God’s love arises amid end-time terrors. The need for covenant-specific assurance drives the search. Love’s enduring nature sustains through trials. “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it” (Song of Solomon 8:7, KJV), and “The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing” (Zephaniah 3:17, KJV). A passage from The Desire of Ages reminds us, “God does not condemn us. He does not use His power to bring judgments upon us” (The Desire of Ages, p. 21, 1898). Sr. White noted, “Every manifestation of God’s power for His people arouses the enmity of Satan” (The Great Controversy, p. 591, 1911). This love anchors the community in crisis. But what declares Jeremiah’s amazing love?
THE AMAZING JEREMIAH 31:3
“The LORD hath appeared of old unto me, saying, Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3, KJV).
This verse is the theological anchor for the Time of Trouble. Notice the temporal dimension: “Everlasting love” (ahavat olam). It is not a reactive love; it is a proactive, eternal reality. The Hebrew word chesed (translated here as “lovingkindness”) implies covenant loyalty. God loves us not because we are lovable—Jacob certainly wasn’t when he was deceiving his father—but because He has sworn a covenant to do so. He loves us because of who He is, not because of who we are. Jeremiah’s verse anchors love in eternity. Its everlasting and covenant nature defines the bond. God’s love precedes our worthiness. “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8, KJV), and “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10, KJV). In Steps to Christ we read, “The more we study the divine character in the light of the cross, the more we see mercy, tenderness, and forgiveness blended with equity and justice” (Steps to Christ, p. 15, 1892). Through inspired counsel we are told, “God’s love for His children during the period of their severest trial is as strong and tender as in the days of their sunniest prosperity” (The Great Controversy, p. 621, 1911). This reality draws with kindness. But how does Sr. White expand this?
In The Desire of Ages, pages 19-22, expands on this and challenges the mimetic rivalry that suggests God is reluctant to save. She writes, “God is love is written upon every opening bud, upon every spire of springing grass”. But she goes deeper, penetrating the very logic of the atonement. She argues that the cross of Christ was not to create God’s love for us, to propitiate an angry deity, but to demonstrate a love that was already there. “The Father loves us, not because of the great propitiation, but He provided the propitiation because He loves us” (Desire of Ages, p. 21). For counseling a trembling flock, this distinction is vital. In the Time of Jacob’s Trouble, when the visible evidence of God’s favor is withdrawn (as Job lost his hedge), we must rely on the memory and the word of that everlasting love. We must know, as Jacob learned at Peniel, that the wrestling match is an act of love, not abandonment. God wrestles with us to break our self-reliance, yes, but only to bless us. He cripples our “Jacob” walk so that we might walk with the limp of “Israel,” leaning entirely on Him. Sr. White’s expansion demonstrates preexisting love. The cross serves as revelation, not creation, of love. Love motivates atonement. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16, KJV), and “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The cross of Calvary is stamped on every promise” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 99, 1896). A passage from Christ’s Object Lessons reminds us, “Love is the basis of godliness” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 384, 1900).
Scripture teaches that all desire is learned from a model, and it directs believers away from human rivalry toward the only safe pattern—Christ Himself. Paul urges, “Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children” (Ephesians 5:1, KJV), showing that imitation is part of the Christian life, but its focus must be divine rather than human. He reinforces this when he says, “Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1, KJV), making clear that he may be copied only insofar as he reflects Christ, thus preventing the competitive imitation that forms around human prestige. This redirection continues in his appeal, “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:5, KJV), where believers are called to reject “strife or vainglory” and embrace the humility and self-emptying spirit of Christ. Inspiration confirms this principle: “Looking unto Jesus we obtain brighter and more distinct views of God, and by beholding we become changed” (Steps to Christ, p. 88), and again, “It is by following in the path of obedience and self-sacrifice that true greatness is attained” (The Desire of Ages, p. 329), both showing that imitation of Christ reshapes desire into holiness rather than rivalry. Pioneer S. N. Haskell likewise observed, “The life patterned after Christ has no rival but self” (The Cross and Its Shadow, p. 104), highlighting the contrast between human-centered imitation and Christlike transformation. Taken together, these witnesses show that while desire naturally imitates a model, only Christ offers a pattern that leads to unity, humility, and life.This vital distinction sustains in withdrawal. But what requires reciprocal mercy?
THE FANTASTIC MICAH 6:8
If God loves us with such an invincible love, what is the reciprocal requirement? Does He love our neighbor? And does He expect us to love them? The answer is found in the prophet Micah, in a courtroom drama where God sues His people. “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8, KJV).
This is the ethical corollary to the theological proposition. Because we are loved with an everlasting love (chesed), we must “love mercy” (ahavat chesed). We must extend that covenant loyalty to others. This is where the distinctives of pacifism and non-combatancy find their root. To “do justly” and “love mercy” is incompatible with taking the life of a neighbor, even a neighbor who—like Esau—is marching toward us with four hundred armed men. Micah requires justice, mercy, and humility. The courtroom call extends love. Love fulfills requirements toward others. “Owe no man any thing, but to love one another: for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law” (Romans 13:8, KJV), and “Let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18, KJV). In The Ministry of Healing we read, “The law of self-sacrifice is the law of self-preservation” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 25, 1905). Sr. White noted, “True courtesy, true sympathy, true social love, are not merely external, but are the outgrowth of internal grace” (Review and Herald, November 21, 1882). This corollary roots non-violence. But how did Jacob prepare for Esau?
Jacob’s preparation for meeting Esau was not to sharpen swords or build fortifications. It was to prepare a blessing. He sent gifts. He bowed seven times. He called Esau “my lord.” He disarmed hostility with humility. He refused to enter into the mimetic cycle of violence. This is the strategy of the Remnant. We conquer by dying, not by killing. We overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony, not by the force of arms. Jacob’s humble preparation disarms violence. Gifts and bowing break rivalry. Humility conquers hostility. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Proverbs 15:1, KJV), and “By humility and the fear of the Lord are riches, and honour, and life” (Proverbs 22:4, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The greatest evidence of nobility in a Christian is self-control” (The Desire of Ages, p. 301, 1898). A passage from Testimonies for the Church reminds us, “Humility, self-denial, benevolence, and the payment of a faithful tithe, these are the fruits worthy of repentance” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 3, p. 393, 1875). This strategy defines remnant conquest. But what marching orders guide the church?
We now turn to the specific marching orders for the church. We have established the identity (Israel) and the atmosphere (Time of Trouble). What, then, is the duty? Is it merely to hide and wait? The duty extends beyond waiting to active service. The established identity and atmosphere call for responsibility. God calls for engagement. “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19, KJV), and “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16, KJV). In Gospel Workers we read, “The work of God in this earth can never be finished until the men and women comprising our church membership rally to the work and unite their efforts with those of ministers and church officers” (Gospel Workers, p. 352, 1915). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Every true disciple is born into the kingdom of God as a missionary” (The Desire of Ages, p. 195, 1898). This turn demands mobilization. But what thunders in Testimonies?
THE THUNDERBOLT OF TESTIMONIES: TESTIMONIES VOL. 5, PAGE 457
The church faces a crisis of self-devotion that mirrors the weakness of ancient Jacob, for inspiration declares that God’s people have surrendered their highest powers to selfish purposes rather than to divine service. The apostle calls us to vigilance, saying, “Redeeming the time, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16, KJV), but Sr. White writes with piercing clarity, “It is too true that few have felt any real sense of their responsibility to God. Love, judgment, memory, foresight, tact, energy, and every other faculty have been devoted to self” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 457). Scripture exposes the emptiness of passive religion, for “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10, KJV), and inspiration presses this further by rebuking the excuse of incapacity: “Many of you excuse yourselves from labor on the plea of inability to work for others. But did God make you so incapable? Was not this inability produced by your own inactivity, and perpetuated by your own deliberate choice?” (vol. 5, p. 457). This failure reflects Jacob’s early nature—grasping blessings for personal security rather than to bless the world—yet God calls His people to reject this spiritual lethargy. As Sr. White warns, the church must not become “a reservoir” of truth, stagnant and enclosed, but a living channel through which divine light flows to all. These counsels reveal that the first step in preparing for the coming crisis is to renounce selfish quietism and recover the mission for which God endowed His people with spiritual gifts.
The guilt borne by the church is the guilt of silence, for we hold life-giving truths while multitudes perish without them. Sr. White insists that an awakened church would see that “multitudes daily transgressing God’s law cannot be saved in transgression” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 457), and this realization would drive us to earnest, sacrificial labor. Scripture affirms the need for decisive commitment, for Paul charged the saints to act with purpose, and inspiration joins this call: “God calls for men of decision, men who will stand firm for the right, cost what it may” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 508). The pioneers understood that the work requires both clarity and courage, reflected in the solemn charge, “The cause of God demands men who can see quickly and act instantaneously at the right time and with power” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 726). Thus the preparation for the Time of Trouble is not merely inward cleansing but outward mobilization, for a stagnant pool breeds disease while a stagnant church breeds fear and error. The transformation from Jacob to Israel— from self-preservation to self-sacrificing service—forms the only path by which God’s people can meet the coming crisis, showing that true readiness is measured not only by purity of heart but by faithfulness to duty toward our neighbor.
WHAT GUIDES OUR SPECTACULAR METHOD?
How do we discharge this responsibility? Do we preach hellfire? Do we debate theology on street corners using logicchopping arguments? The discharge requires Christ’s sympathetic approach. Rejection of harsh methods favors genuine engagement. Service wins hearts. “Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins” (James 5:20, KJV), and “Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness” (Galatians 6:1, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “We are to be laborers together with God. This is the Lord’s own appointment” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 9, p. 41, 1909). In Christian Service we read, “Personal effort for others should be put forth by all who profess to be followers of Christ” (Christian Service, p. 10, 1925). This question leads to the ultimate methodology. But what outlines Christ’s ultimate method?
THE ULTIMATE METHODOLOGY: MINISTRY OF HEALING, PAGE 143
In The Ministry of Healing, page 143, Sr. White outlines a strategy that is as radical today as it was in 1905. It is often called “Christ’s Method Alone.” “Christ’s method alone will give true success in reaching the people. The Saviour mingled with men as one who desired their good. He showed His sympathy for them, ministered to their needs, and won their confidence. Then He bade them, ‘Follow Me’”. Let us break this down into a comparative table, contrasting the “Jacob Method” (the method of the Supplanter) with the “Christ Method” (the method of Israel).
| Phase | Christ’s Method (Israel) | Jacob’s Method (Supplanter) |
| Contact | Mingled with men as one desiring their good (Incarnational). | Avoided contact (fear) or mingled for personal gain (transactional). |
| Emotion | Showed genuine sympathy. | Feigned identity; hid true feelings behind a mask. |
| Action | Ministered to their needs (Healing). | Exploited their hunger (Buying the birthright for pottage). |
| Trust | Won their confidence through service. | Betrayed their trust (Deceiving Isaac). |
| Call | “Follow Me” (Discipleship). | “Give me your birthright” (Acquisition). |
Christian love stands as the antidote to mimetic desire, for the gospel redirects the heart from envying what the neighbor has to seeking the neighbor’s good. Jesus declares, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matthew 22:39, KJV), shifting desire from a transactional pursuit of gain to a transformational commitment to give. Paul strengthens this principle by teaching, “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:10, KJV), showing that genuine love dissolves rivalry and protects the neighbor rather than competing with him. Inspiration affirms this redirection of desire, for it is written, “The law of God is the law of love. It is the law of benevolence” (Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing, p. 22), revealing that God’s law aims to restore selfless affection in place of selfish grasping. This same truth appears again: “Love must be the principle of action. It is the underlying principle of the government of God in heaven and earth, and it must be the foundation of the Christian character” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 49), making clear that agape alone can free the heart from envy and rivalry. Thus the cure for destructive imitation is not withdrawal from the neighbor, but love toward the neighbor, for only love turns competition into compassion and transforms desire into service.
This means that “Health Reform” and “Medical Missionary Work” are not just appendages to the message—they are the right arm. They are the vehicle of sympathy. We minister to the needs (physical, dietary, lifestyle) to win the confidence to speak to the soul. You cannot preach to a man who is hungry, sick, or in pain. You must first be the hands of Jesus before you can be the voice of Jesus. In the Time of Trouble, when the world is plunged into chaos, disease, and despair, this method will be the only one that works. The “Jacob” who hides will be hunted; the “Israel” who serves will be a light in the darkness. Christ’s method mingles with sympathy and service. The outlined steps and comparative table shift from envy to agape. Love serves as law’s fulfillment. “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2, KJV), and “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The followers of Christ are to labor as He did. We are to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and comfort the suffering and afflicted” (The Desire of Ages, p. 350, 1898). A passage from Welfare Ministry reminds us, “Medical missionary work is the pioneer work of the gospel” (Welfare Ministry, p. 125, 1952). This method illuminates in chaos. But what heights does Jones reach in perfection?
WHAT ACHIEVES FANTASTIC PERFECTION?
The 1888 message reaches its summit in A. T. Jones’s declaration that the entire sanctuary system points toward the moral and spiritual perfection of the believer, for Scripture calls God’s people to advance beyond the elementary principles of faith into full maturity. Paul urges, “Therefore leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection” (Hebrews 6:1, KJV), revealing that the Christian life is designed to grow into the likeness of Christ. Jones grounds this call in the nature Christ assumed, insisting that the Saviour took “part of the same” flesh and blood as the children, in harmony with the Scripture, “Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same” (Hebrews 2:14, KJV). This means Christ entered the very condition in which humanity struggles, yet lived a perfect life without sin. Inspiration confirms this truth: “He took upon His sinless nature our sinful nature, that He might know how to succor those that are tempted” (Medical Ministry, p. 181), showing that Jesus did not stand apart from human weakness but stepped directly into it. This forms the theological foundation for Jones’s claim that the sanctuary points not merely to forgiveness, but to the restoration of God’s image in the believer. As Ellen White affirms, “The sanctification of the soul by the working of the Holy Spirit is the implanting of Christ’s nature in humanity” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 384), making clear that the purpose of redemption is nothing less than transformation.
Jones then argues that by living a perfect life in the fallen flesh He assumed, Christ “consecrated a new and living way” for every believer, proving that sin is not an unavoidable expression of human nature but the result of choice. Jesus showed that perfect obedience in fallen flesh is possible through continual union with the Father, and this victory becomes the believer’s hope, for “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27, KJV) means that the same indwelling power is available to those who surrender fully to Him. Inspiration supports this living connection, declaring, “The great thought… is that God shall dwell in the hearts of the people” (The Consecrated Way to Christian Perfection, chap. 12), and Ellen White echoes it when she writes, “When the soul surrenders itself to Christ, a new power takes possession of the new heart” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 332). Jones is careful to reject the errors of “holy flesh” or claims of personal divinity, stressing instead that perfection is the result of God’s full residence within the believer, not the exaltation of human ability. Thus the “Jacob” of self-dependence is not merely restrained but crucified, as Paul says, “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me” (Galatians 2:20, KJV). These truths reveal the astonishing possibility offered in the gospel: that Christ, who conquered sin in the very flesh we bear, may dwell in us through the Holy Spirit and reproduce His victory in our lives, making the believer a living witness to the power of God’s righteousness.
For us, this answers the fear of the Time of Trouble. “How can I stand without an intercessor?” You cannot. But Christ in you can. If the sanctuary is cleansed, meaning the soul is cleansed of cherished sin, then the devil finds nothing in you. “The prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me” (John 14:30). The 144,000 are those in whom the dragon finds nothing. They are, like their Master, “without fault before the throne of God” (Rev 14:5). Jones’s logic pursues perfection through Christ’s indwelling. The sanctuary’s purpose and theological steps guide the path. God’s dwelling displaces sin. “Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short of it” (Hebrews 4:1, KJV), and “Having therefore these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God” (2 Corinthians 7:1, KJV). In Selected Messages we read, “Christ is waiting with longing desire for the manifestation of Himself in His church. When the character of Christ shall be perfectly reproduced in His people, then He will come to claim them as His own” (Selected Messages, book 1, p. 111, 1958). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The Saviour longs to manifest His grace and stamp His character on the whole world” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 6, p. 14, 1900). This possibility conquers fear. But how does Waggoner secure victory?
WHAT SECURES ULTIMATE VICTORY?
E. J. Waggoner deepens the 1888 message by shifting the center of righteousness by faith from human effort to divine promise, teaching that the everlasting covenant is grounded not in human performance but in God’s own faithfulness. Scripture affirms this foundation: “The Lord is not slack concerning his promise” (2 Peter 3:9, KJV), revealing that all covenant blessings flow from God’s initiative, not human merit. Waggoner insists that the covenant is not a contract in which God and man share responsibilities, but a single, divine promise in which God undertakes to accomplish His entire will within the believer, if only the believer will yield. Ellen White confirms this truth, declaring, “All His biddings are enablings” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 333), showing that every command is accompanied by the power to obey. She also writes, “The covenant of grace is not a new truth… It is the everlasting covenant” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 370), rooting Waggoner’s insight in the long-standing revelation that God Himself fulfills His promises in His people. This divine commitment forms the heart of victory, for Waggoner states that “the promise, ‘Thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies,’ cannot be fulfilled except by victory over all enemies by all the seed,” meaning that God’s people triumph because God works triumphantly in them.
Waggoner applies this principle to the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble,” teaching that Jacob’s agony arose from his long struggle to secure God’s blessings through human manipulation rather than divine reliance. His early life was shaped by mimetic striving—grasping Esau’s heel, stealing the birthright, and scheming for advantage—yet victory came only when he yielded entirely to God and clung to the promise rather than his own strength. Scripture reflects this transformation, for Jacob confessed, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me” (Genesis 32:26, KJV), shifting from self-effort to dependence on God alone. Inspiration explains this moment with clarity: “Through humiliation, repentance, and self-surrender, this sinful, erring mortal prevailed with the Majesty of heaven” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 203), showing that victory comes through surrender, not self-assertion. Waggoner ties this to the final generation, arguing that “the final victory over death is only the present victory over sin, which is the sting of death,” meaning that the crisis of the last days will be met not by human strength but by resting in God’s covenant promise. Ellen White supports this when she writes, “When we submit ourselves to Christ, the heart is united with His heart, the will is merged in His will… and we live His life” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 312). These united witnesses reveal that the triumph of God’s people at the end of time grows from the same root as Jacob’s victory—complete dependence on the God who keeps His promises and works His righteousness within all who believe.
This is the “Ultimate Victory.” It is the realization that the 144,000 are not a special forces unit of super-humans; they are a group of people who have finally, completely, surrendered to the Everlasting Covenant. They have stopped trying to be Esau. They have stopped trying to save themselves. They have allowed God to write His law in their hearts (Jer 31:33). They have exchanged the frantic activity of the Supplanter for the restful power of the Prince of God. Waggoner’s covenant emphasizes God’s promise over effort. The singular promise and victory over enemies define the path. Surrender and rest in promise overcome trouble. “For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, saith the Lord; I will put my laws into their mind, and write them in their hearts” (Hebrews 8:10, KJV), and “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, KJV). A passage from Faith and Works reminds us, “The Lord would have His people sound in the faith–not ignorant of the great salvation so abundantly provided for them” (Faith and Works, p. 15, 1979). Sr. White noted, “The covenant of grace was first made with man in Eden” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 370, 1890). This realization empowers the 144,000. But what concludes at the brink?
WHAT RESOLVES AT UNCANNY CONCLUSION?
As God’s people approach the final crisis, Scripture and the prophetic word teach that we stand where Israel once stood—at the brink of the Jordan, facing a night of struggle in which every false identity must be surrendered. Jesus warned that “there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation” (Daniel 12:1, KJV), yet He assures His people that they are not abandoned, for “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1, KJV). The story of Jacob at the ford of Jabbok becomes the living pattern for the remnant, for Jacob entered the night full of fear, guilt, and divided desires, yet found himself wrestling with One whose purpose was not to destroy but to deliver. Inspiration interprets this moment with clarity: “It was Christ, the Angel of the covenant, who had revealed Himself to Jacob” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 197), and again, “The crisis in his life had come; everything depended upon his character… and his faith in God” (p. 197). These lessons show that the struggle before us is not merely with external enemies but with the ghosts of our own divided hearts—our mimetic desires, our false selves, our reliance on human strength. The spies’ report may be accurate and the giants real, but the promise stands firm: “The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge” (Psalm 46:7, KJV). The night is dark, but Christ wrestles with His people to bless, heal, and rename them.
The calling of the remnant is therefore to lead the flock to Peniel, where the old identity dies and the Everlasting Covenant becomes living power. Rabbi Sacks’s insight that the true struggle is the shedding of the false self harmonizes with the inspired testimony, for Ellen White writes, “Nothing is more needed in our work than the practical results of communion with God” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 6, p. 47), showing that identity is forged not in human striving but in divine fellowship. She also declares, “We are to reveal Christ’s sympathy and tenderness in all our labor for the salvation of souls” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 157), setting before the church a path of incarnational ministry that mirrors Christ’s own method. This aligns with the message of Jones and Waggoner, who taught that victory comes not through human effort but through Christ dwelling in sinful flesh, fulfilling the covenant from within. Paul affirms this hope: “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27, KJV), and inspiration expands it: “When the soul surrenders itself to Christ, a new power takes possession of the new heart” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 312). This surrender becomes the wrestle of the last generation—not to earn blessing, but to refuse to let go until the blessing comes. When the morning breaks and Esau’s face—the crisis, the decree, the world’s hostility—draws near, God’s people will rise from the encounter changed, humble, and fearless. They will bow in meekness, offer themselves in service, and stand in the strength of the God who renamed Jacob “Israel,” for the same God prepares a people who overcome by clinging to His promise until daybreak.
We will no longer be Jacob, the Deceiver. We will be Israel. For we have struggled with God and with men, and have prevailed. The conclusion stands at the brink with consistent reports. Lessons from sources lead to victory. Refuge lies in God amid storms. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1, KJV), and “In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me” (Psalm 56:11, KJV). In Maranatha we read, “We are standing on the threshold of great and solemn events” (Maranatha, p. 8, 1976). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The time has come when through God’s messengers the scroll is being unrolled to the world” (Testimonies to Ministers and Gospel Workers, p. 113, 1923). This resolve claims the new name.
WHAT REVEALS GOD’S LOVE?
God’s Word affirms that He loves the sinner with a love that precedes sin itself, drawing the heart not by force but by the beauty of His character. The Lord declares, “Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee” (Jeremiah 31:3, KJV), revealing that His love stretches beyond memory—olam, a vanishing point before our failures, before our birth, before any act that could earn or repel His affection. This truth shines even more brightly in the life of Christ, for inspiration says, “The story of Bethlehem is an exhaustless theme. In it is hidden ‘the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God’” (The Desire of Ages, p. 22), showing that the glory of God is not found in overwhelming power but in self-sacrificing love that steps into humanity to redeem it. Thus, Scripture and the Spirit of Prophecy make clear that God’s love for the sinner is not reactive but eternal, not fragile but steadfast, and it is this love that draws us back to Him with saving power.
The “Time of Trouble” tests this specific belief. When the sensory experience of God’s presence is gone, the “everlasting” nature of the love is the only rock to stand on. Jeremiah’s verse and commentary on everlasting nature affirm God’s love. Love predates sin. “Thy lovingkindness is before mine eyes: and I have walked in thy truth” (Psalm 26:3, KJV), and “The mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him” (Psalm 103:17, KJV). In The Desire of Ages we read, “It was to manifest this glory that He came to our world” (The Desire of Ages, p. 19, 1898). A prophetic voice once wrote, “The cross speaks to the hosts of heaven, to worlds unfallen, and to the fallen world, the value which God has placed upon men” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 740, 1889). This test relies on love’s memory.
WHAT APPLIES TO SOCIETY?
The practical force of the Third Angel’s Message is revealed when Scripture moves religion from mere ritual to a lived expression of justice and love toward society. Micah declares, “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Micah 6:8, KJV), shifting the focus from outward offerings to ethical responsibility. Paul strengthens this by stating, “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law” (Romans 13:10, KJV), teaching that the commandments reach their highest expression when they prevent harm and promote the well-being of others. Inspiration identifies how this principle becomes effective in the world, for “Christ’s method alone will give true success in reaching the people. The Saviour mingled with men as one who desired their good… He won their confidence, and then He bade them, Follow Me” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 143). Taken together, these witnesses show that the Third Angel’s Message is not only doctrinal warning but practical compassion, calling believers to embody justice, mercy, and selfless love in every sphere of society.
The emphasis on “Health Reform” is often seen as legalistic. But viewed through this lens, it is the ultimate expression of “Love worketh no ill to his neighbour.” By teaching a neighbor to live healthily, to abstain from alcohol and tobacco, we are actively preventing “ill.” We are loving them in a tangible, physiological way. This is the “Spectacular Method” in action. Micah and Romans shift to non-harm. Practical love prevents ill. “Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart: thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him” (Leviticus 19:17, KJV), and “Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, and let not thine heart be glad when he stumbleth” (Proverbs 24:17, KJV). Through inspired counsel we are told, “The principles of health reform are found in the Word of God” (Counsels on Health, p. 225, 1923). A passage from Temperance reminds us, “True temperance teaches us to dispense entirely with everything hurtful and to use judiciously that which is healthful” (Temperance, p. 138, 1949). This application expresses love tangibly.
WHAT CAUSES LAODICEAN STATE?
The church remains in a Laodicean state because unused spiritual responsibility weakens the soul, leaving God’s people self-satisfied yet powerless. Christ warns that Laodicea is “lukewarm” and complacent, for “thou sayest, I am rich… and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked” (Revelation 3:17, KJV), revealing that inactivity produces spiritual blindness. Inspiration identifies the cause with striking clarity: “Many of you excuse yourselves from labor on the plea of inability to work for others… Was not this inability produced by your own inactivity, and perpetuated by your own deliberate choice?” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 457), showing that spiritual power functions like muscle—unused, it atrophies. This diagnosis explains why zeal fades and discernment grows dim, for the life that is not exercised in service loses the capacity to receive and share divine power. Thus the Laodicean condition persists not because God withholds strength, but because His people have ceased to use what He freely supplies.
The preparation for the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble” is active service. We cannot wrestle with God in the night if we have not walked with Him in the day. The “Jacob” who wrestled at Jabbok was a man who had spent twenty years laboring for Laban, dealing with drought and frost. He was tough. The spiritual “couch potato” will not survive the night of anguish. The passage on atrophy demands service. Activity strengthens faith. “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves” (James 1:22, KJV), and “Shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works” (James 2:18, KJV). In Testimonies for the Church we read, “Inactivity is the greatest curse that could come upon the church” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 2, p. 196, 1870). Sr. White noted, “The Lord bids us, ‘Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die’” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 8, p. 79, 1904). This synthesis calls for active preparation.
WHAT PROMISES VICTORY?
Perfection is possible only because Christ imparts His own victorious faith to the believer, making His righteousness effective within human weakness. Scripture anchors this hope in the final message, describing the saints as “they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus” (Revelation 14:12, KJV), showing that the overcoming life is sustained not merely by our faith in Christ, but by His faith living and working in us. A. T. Jones argues that Christ lived a perfect life in fallen flesh so that His own obedience might be reproduced in those who surrender to Him, while E. J. Waggoner declares that the everlasting covenant is God’s promise to perform this work fully in His people. Inspiration affirms this divine indwelling, for “When the soul surrenders itself to Christ, a new power takes possession of the new heart… a power that is above all principalities and powers” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 332), revealing that victory is the result of Christ’s life exercised within the believer. Ellen White further states, “As the will of man cooperates with the will of God, it becomes omnipotent” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 333), showing that divine faith energizes human obedience. Thus, perfection is not human achievement, but the outworking of Christ’s own faith and power in those who yield fully to Him.
“Jacob’s Trouble” is the furnace that burns away the dross of self-reliance. The only thing that survives is the “gold tried in the fire”—which is the faith of Jesus. This is the “Fantastic Perfection.” It is not a badge of merit; it is a state of total dependence. Arguments on indwelling burn dross. Faith perfects in trial. “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:7, KJV), and “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience” (James 1:2-3, KJV). A prophetic voice once wrote, “Perfection of character is based upon that which Christ is to us” (Manuscript Releases, vol. 8, p. 183, 1990). A passage from Sons and Daughters of God reminds us, “We may attain unto the full stature of men and women in Christ Jesus” (Sons and Daughters of God, p. 331, 1955). This state achieves dependence.
For more articles, please go to http://www.faithfundamentals.blog or our podcast at: https://rss.com/podcasts/the-lamb.
SELF-REFLECTION
How can I deepen my grasp of Jacob’s identity transformation in my daily devotions, letting it refine my character for end-time readiness?
How can we present the themes of wrestling with self and achieving perfection in Christ to varied groups, ensuring clarity for both long-time members and newcomers without diluting truth?
What misunderstandings about the time of trouble and righteousness by faith persist in my circle, and how can I address them biblically with gentleness?
How can the community embody the shift from mimetic desire to agape love, becoming active channels of blessing in a world nearing crisis?
If you have a prayer request, please leave it in the comments below. Prayer meetings are held on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. To join, enter your email address in the comments section.
PEOPLE OF THE BOOK 