[SERIES NAVIGATION] This is Part 1 of a 2-part study on the biblical Identity of Israel
[Part 1] | Link to Part 2
THE UNBROKEN OATH: A Biblical Walking Tour of “Israel”
PART 1: The Origin & The Election
INTRODUCTION: WHY THIS STUDY MATTERS
If you’ve believed that God is “done” with Israel—that their rejection of the Messiah voided the covenant—you’ve believed that God’s promises have expiration dates. And if that’s true for them, it’s true for you.
This study exists to answer the question on which your assurance depends: Who is Israel, according to Scripture?
Not “What should America’s foreign policy be?” Not “Is the modern state prophetically significant?” Those are secondary questions that depend entirely on the answer to the first question.
Who is Israel, according to Scripture?
We cannot begin with a 1948 map. We cannot begin with current headlines. We must begin in the mud, in the dark, with a man fighting for his life at a river crossing. The identity of Israel is not born in a diplomatic treaty. It is born in a wrestling match.
Here’s why this matters to you, even if you’ve never set foot in the Middle East: The way God treats Israel is the blueprint for how He treats you. If His promises to them have expiration dates, so do His promises to you. If His covenant with them was performance-based, so is yours. This is not a study about “them.” This is a study about whether God can be trusted when the people He loves fail Him.
In Part 1, we’ll discover where the name “Israel” comes from and why God chose this particular people. In Part 2, we’ll confront the theological crisis that threatens to unravel everything—and the resolution that will either confirm your deepest fear or shatter it with unshakable truth.
The name itself begins here.
I. THE ORIGIN: THE BADGE OF STRUGGLE (Genesis 32)
The Context: A Man Running from His Past
The wrestling match at the Jabbok river has a backstory you need to know.
Jacob was a deceiver from the womb. His very name means “heel-grabber” or “supplanter”—the one who trips you up to take your place. And he lived up to that name.
Genesis 25 records his birth: he came out of the womb grasping his twin brother Esau’s heel, as if already trying to overtake him. Later, he exploited Esau’s hunger to buy his birthright for a bowl of stew (Genesis 25:29–34). But the deception that shattered the family came in Genesis 27.
Isaac, their father, was old and blind. He intended to give the patriarchal blessing to Esau, the firstborn. But Rebekah, Jacob’s mother, conspired with Jacob to steal it. They dressed Jacob in Esau’s clothes, covered his smooth skin with goatskins to mimic Esau’s hairiness, and deceived the blind patriarch:
“So he went to his father and said, ‘My father.’ And he said, ‘Here I am. Who are you, my son?’ Jacob said to his father, ‘I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you told me; now sit up and eat of my game, that your soul may bless me.’” (Genesis 27:18–19, ESV)
Isaac blessed him. And when Esau discovered the theft, he wept bitterly and vowed to kill Jacob (Genesis 27:41).
So Jacob fled. He ran north to Haran, to his uncle Laban, and spent twenty years in exile—where, ironically, he was repeatedly deceived by Laban in the same way he had deceived others (Genesis 29–31). He worked fourteen years for two wives he didn’t plan on. He was cheated on wages. He experienced the bitter harvest of his own methods.
The Terror: Esau Is Coming
After twenty years, God told Jacob to return home (Genesis 31:3). But going home meant facing Esau. And Jacob had no idea whether his brother’s rage had cooled or intensified over two decades.
So Jacob sent messengers ahead with a carefully crafted message of submission and gifts. But the messengers returned with terrifying news:
“We came to your brother Esau, and he is coming to meet you, and there are four hundred men with him.” (Genesis 32:6, ESV)
Four hundred men. That’s not a welcome party. That’s an army.
Jacob was terrified. Genesis 32:7 says he was “greatly afraid and distressed.” So he did what he always did—he schemed. He divided his family and flocks into two camps, reasoning that if Esau attacked one, the other might escape (Genesis 32:8). He sent wave after wave of gifts ahead—550 animals in multiple droves—hoping to appease Esau’s wrath (Genesis 32:13–21).
And then, the night before the meeting, Jacob sent his entire family across the Jabbok river ahead of him:
“The same night he arose and took his two wives, his two female servants, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and everything else that he had. And Jacob was left alone.” (Genesis 32:22–24a, ESV)
Jacob was left alone. In the dark. With nothing left but his fear and his schemes.
That’s when God came.
The Night of Terror (Genesis 32:22-25a)
“And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day.” (Genesis 32:24b, ESV)
The night is absolute. No moon. No fire. Jacob’s family is gone—he sent them ahead, their voices swallowed by the rush of the Jabbok behind him. The air is cold. His breath comes in ragged bursts. And then, in the darkness, hands that are not his brother’s hands seize him.
No words. No introduction. Just violent, relentless grappling.
The figure does not speak. Does not identify Himself. Does not explain. He simply wrestles—and Jacob has no choice but to fight back or be crushed.
For hours, they struggle. Muscle against muscle. Breath against breath. Jacob—who has spent his entire life running, scheming, slipping out of consequences—cannot run now. There is nowhere to go. The figure will not relent. Will not release him. Will not let him collapse.
And Jacob, for the first time in his life, cannot manipulate his way out.
The text calls the figure “a man,” but as the encounter unfolds, it becomes clear this is no ordinary human. Later interpretation—particularly Hosea 12:3–4, which identifies the event as Jacob striving “with God” and “with the Angel”—reveals this as a christophany, a pre-incarnate appearance of Christ.
The two wrestle through the entire night. And Jacob—the deceiver, the schemer, the man who has never faced anything he couldn’t outmaneuver—is locked in a struggle he cannot win and cannot escape.
The Breaking and the Blessing (Genesis 32:25b-31)
As dawn begins to break, the divine figure does something that changes everything:
“When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.” (Genesis 32:25, ESV)
One touch. That’s all it took.
The socket pops. The pain is blinding, white-hot, immediate. Jacob’s leg buckles. And in that instant, he realizes: This opponent has been holding back the entire time. He could have ended this in the first second. He could have shattered Jacob’s body with a word. But He didn’t. He wrestled with Jacob—allowed the struggle to continue—until this moment.
Now Jacob is crippled. His hip is dislocated. He can no longer run. He can no longer scheme his way out. All he can do is cling.
And cling he does:
“Then he said, ‘Let me go, for the day has broken.’ But Jacob said, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me.’” (Genesis 32:26, ESV)
Do you see what’s happening here? Jacob has been stripped of every advantage. His strength is gone. His ability to manipulate is gone. His capacity to run is shattered. All that remains is desperate, limping dependence.
And from that posture—not from strength, but from broken clinging—he receives what he could never have schemed his way into:
“And he said to him, ‘What is your name?’ And he said, ‘Jacob.’ Then he said, ‘Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.’” (Genesis 32:27–28, ESV)
The Paradox of Prevailing
This is the paradox Scripture forces on us: Jacob “prevailed,” but only after he was crippled. He “overcame,” but only by weeping and pleading.
Centuries later, the prophet Hosea looks back on this night and clarifies what “prevailing” actually meant: “He struggled with the Angel and prevailed; he wept, and sought favor from Him” (Hosea 12:4, ESV). Prevailing = weeping. Overcoming = pleading for mercy. This is victory through refusal to release, not through superior force.
In human terms, this makes no sense. If you prevail, you don’t weep. If you overcome, you don’t beg for mercy.
But with God, prevailing means the exact opposite of what you think. It means being brought to the end of yourself—stripped of strength, schemes, and options—and choosing, in that devastation, to cling anyway. To say, “I will not let You go unless You bless me,” even when You’ve just shattered my hip.
This is not victory through superior force. This is victory through refusal to release. It is the triumph of desperate dependence over self-sufficient strength.
The Name: What “Israel” Means
The name “Israel” comes from the Hebrew root sarah, meaning “to strive” or “to struggle” with God. This is the first and foundational definition of Israel’s identity:
Israel is the name given to those who wrestle with God and prevail—not through strength, but through clinging.
This is not a name given for moral perfection. Jacob was a liar and a thief. It is not a name given for spiritual achievement. Jacob spent the night terrified and scheming. It is a name given for persistence in the struggle with God.
Israel is defined by the touch of God that both wounds and blesses. The hip that is crippled. The blessing that is demanded. The limp that remains as a permanent mark of the encounter.
The Mark: A Permanent Limp
Jacob walked away from that encounter with a new name and a permanent disability:
“The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.” (Genesis 32:31, ESV)
He would limp for the rest of his life. Every step would remind him: you did not earn this name. You did not deserve this blessing. You were broken, crippled, and forced to cling. And in that clinging, you were renamed.
Application: The Israel YOU Want vs. The Israel God Gives
You want a sanitized Israel—one that earned God’s favor through righteousness, one you can point to and say, “See? They deserved it.”
But God gives you a crippled wrestler who prevails by clinging, not by deserving.
The identity of Israel is not “the morally superior people.” It is “the people who struggle with God and will not let go.” That struggle—turbulent, messy, marked by failure and rebellion—is the defining characteristic.
And here’s what you need to see: If God defines Israel by struggle rather than perfection, then His choice to maintain covenant with them cannot be based on their performance.
Which brings us to the plains of Moab, where Moses answers the question that has been hanging in the air: If Israel’s identity is not based on their righteousness, then what is it based on?
II. THE ELECTION: THE ABSENCE OF MERIT (Deuteronomy 7)
The Context: Moses’ Final Sermon
Deuteronomy is Moses’ farewell address. The people of Israel are camped on the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from the Promised Land. Moses, now 120 years old, knows he will not cross over with them (Deuteronomy 34:4). So he delivers a series of sermons to prepare them for what comes next.
In Deuteronomy 7, Moses addresses a question that the surrounding nations would inevitably ask—and that Israel itself might be tempted to ask: “Why you? What makes you special?”
Israel is about to enter Canaan and dispossess nations that are larger, stronger, and more advanced than they are. The Canaanites had fortified cities, iron chariots, and centuries of established civilization. Israel was a nation of former slaves who had spent forty years wandering in the wilderness.
So why would God choose them?
The temptation—both for Israel and for us—is to assume there must be something inherently valuable about the chosen. Some quality, some merit, some deserving factor that explains the choice.
Moses destroys that assumption.
The Declaration: God’s Choice Was Not Based on Your Value
“For you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD your God has chosen you to be a people for his treasured possession, out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth.” (Deuteronomy 7:6, ESV)
Before Israel can puff up with pride, Moses delivers the hammer blow:
“It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples, but it is because the LORD loves you and is keeping the oath that he swore to your fathers, that the LORD has brought you out with a mighty hand and redeemed you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 7:7–8, ESV)
Let’s break down what Moses just said:
Negation #1: “Not because you were more in number”
God didn’t choose Israel because they were a superpower. In fact, they were “the fewest of all peoples”—small, weak, and insignificant by worldly standards. If God were choosing based on national strength, Israel wouldn’t have made the list.
Positive Reason #1: “Because the LORD loves you”
Why does God love Israel? Moses doesn’t give a reason. He simply states it as fact. God’s love is an act of His sovereign will, not a response to Israel’s qualities. He loves because He chooses to love.
Positive Reason #2: “Keeping the oath that he swore to your fathers”
God made a covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Genesis 12:1–3; 15:18–21; 26:3–4; 28:13–15). That oath was unconditional. God swore it. God will keep it. Israel’s election is rooted in God’s fidelity to His own word, not in Israel’s worthiness.
The Doctrine: Unilateral Election
This passage establishes what theologians call the Doctrine of Unilateral Election: God’s choice of Israel rests on two pillars, neither of which are Israel’s behavior:
- God’s Love — an act of His will
- God’s Oath — His fidelity to His own word
Here’s the theological logic you must grasp:
Because the election was not established by Israel’s righteousness, it cannot be annulled by Israel’s rebellion.
If God chose them because they were good, then He could un-choose them when they became bad. But He didn’t choose them because they were good. He chose them because He loved them and swore an oath.
That means the covenant stands—not because Israel is faithful, but because God is faithful.
The Lie You’re Believing Right Now
Here’s the lie you’ve been taught: “God chose me because He saw something in me—potential, sincerity, a willing heart.”
But verse 7 destroys that framework: “It was not because you were more in number… for you were the fewest of all peoples.” God didn’t choose Israel because they were impressive. He chose them because “the LORD loves you”—an act of sovereign will with no stated reason.
And the reason that truth terrifies you is because it means you have nothing to offer. You cannot bargain. You cannot perform your way into security. You are chosen or you are not—and the choosing rests entirely on God’s sovereign will and His unbreakable word.
But here’s the flip side: If the election was not based on your worthiness, then it cannot be revoked by your unworthiness. The covenant stands because God stands, not because you do.
The question is whether you can live with a God who operates this way—who chooses not based on what you bring to the table, but based on His own inscrutable love and unbreakable oath.
Application: The Hinge on Which Your Salvation Swings
This is not a minor theological detail. This is the hinge on which your salvation swings.
If you are a Gentile believer in Christ, your salvation rests on the same principle: unilateral, gracious election. You were not chosen because you were morally superior to others. You were not chosen because you had more faith potential than your unbelieving neighbor. You were chosen because God, in His sovereign love, set His affection on you and made a covenant in the blood of His Son.
And just as Israel’s election cannot be revoked by Israel’s failure, your election cannot be revoked by your failure—because it was never based on your performance in the first place.
But here’s where it gets uncomfortable:
If God breaks His oath to Israel, then He can break His oath to you.
If you believe God is “done” with the Jewish people—that He has revoked His covenant with them because of their unbelief—then you are saying God’s promises have expiration dates. You are saying His oaths are conditional, even when He didn’t state conditions.
And if that’s true, then every promise He made to you is negotiable.
This is why understanding Israel’s election is not an abstract academic exercise. It is a direct test of whether you believe God keeps His word.
THE CRISIS AHEAD: Where Part 2 Will Take Us
But there’s a problem.
If God’s covenant with Israel is truly irrevocable—if He swore an everlasting oath to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—then how do we explain the fact that the majority of Israel has rejected the Messiah?
The Apostle Paul faced this crisis head-on. It wasn’t academic for him—it was personal, agonizing, and it threatened to unravel the entire gospel.
Because if the people to whom God swore an everlasting covenant can reject the Messiah and be lost, then the Word of God has failed. The covenant is broken. The promises are worthless. And if God’s oath to Israel can fail, then God’s oath to you can fail.
In Part 2, we’ll walk through Paul’s resolution to this crisis in Romans 9–11—a resolution that will either confirm your deepest fear or shatter it completely with a truth so solid you can build your entire life on it.
We’ll discover:
- The Crisis: How Paul answers the question “Has God’s Word failed?” (Romans 9)
- The Mystery: What God is doing with Israel now and what He will do in the future (Romans 11)
- The Strike: Why God’s faithfulness to Israel—despite their rejection of the Messiah—is the proof of His faithfulness to you
So here’s the question you must answer before we move to Part 2:
Do you believe God keeps His oath to Israel—even though the majority rejected the Messiah?
Because if you say “No”—if you believe God has revoked His covenant with them because of their unbelief—then you are saying that God’s promises have conditions He didn’t state. You are saying that His oaths have fine print. You are saying that “everlasting” doesn’t actually mean everlasting.
And if that’s true for them, it’s true for you.
The question is not “What happens to Israel?” The question is: Can you trust God when the people He chose fail Him?
Your eternity depends on the answer.