Chapter 3 of Habakkuk, which is often referred to as “the Psalm of Habakkuk,” is a song of catharsis, relief, faith, and profound emotion.
“Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation” (Hab. 3:17–18). These verses, which mark the conclusion of Habakkuk’s otherwise gloomy oracle, remain one of the most decisive declarations of faith in all of Scripture. It is a fitting capstone to a book that is rooted in what faith is and what it looks like, especially when all that is detected is grief and disaster. Habakkuk has stood on the precipice and gotten a glimpse at a future full of ruinous judgment, which will result in seventy years of exile for Judah’s citizens. Although Jeremiah was aware of that detail (Jer. 25:11–12), it’s uncertain if Habakkuk was working with the same information. For all he knew, the disaster on the horizon was open-ended (Hab. 1:17).
With no definitive end date in sight, Habakkuk’s grief gushes out of him. A rush of anxiety overtakes him at the sound of God’s report, filling him with dread and causing his entire body to tremble uncontrollably (Hab. 3:16). Upon hearing everything that God had told him, he was ready to collapse under the weight of it all. His eyes had been opened to an inundating future, full of both desolation and glory. “For the earth will be filled,” Habakkuk is told, “with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Hab. 2:14). It is precisely this promise to which the prophet’s faith clings, allowing him to say, “Although this is true, and even though I don’t understand, yet I will trust you.”
One of the benefits of reading Habakkuk is relishing in the transformation that occurs within his heart and soul. The Lord’s prophet goes from lament to awe-induced praise (Hab. 1:2–4; 3:2). His cry for help has morphed into worship. The complainer is now a composer. He has learned firsthand that faith is his only lifeline and that the essence of faith isn’t having all the answers, but trusting the one who does.
1. Faith Remembers What God Has Done
Chapter 3 of Habakkuk, which is often referred to as “the Psalm of Habakkuk,” is a song of catharsis, relief, faith, and profound emotion. He begins by referring to what inspired such intense lyrics. “O Lord,” he exclaims, “I have heard the report of you, and your work, O Lord, do I fear” (Hab. 3:2). This “report” (שֵׁ֫מַע) is further illuminated throughout the following verses, which is none other than the work of God throughout Israel’s storied history (Hab. 3:3–7).
Although the references are somewhat opaque, we can trace God’s handiwork in just the geography that is mentioned. Teman and Mount Paran are locations that recall the events of Mount Sinai (Deut. 33:2), where God gave his people his law and covenant. After bringing his people out of bondage in Egypt with “pestilence and plague” (Hab. 3:5), he met them on the cliffs of Sinai, with “thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain” and “rays [flashing] from his hand” (Hab. 3:3–4; cf. Exod. 19:16–19). The effect of all this splendor was meant to impress upon them the mammoth scope of what was transpiring: the Lord of the universe was covenanting with them. He would be their God and they would be his people (Exod. 6:7).
As Habakkuk recalls this staggering display and reflects on where all of this took place, he’s not just remembering the rocky terrain. Rather, he’s remembering God’s heart. He’s recalling how, in wrath, God remembered mercy, and now he’s asking him to do it again (Hab. 3:2). Even there at the site where the Lord of all made an elaborate covenant with a bunch of former slaves, they betray him by turning away from him and toward a makeshift gleaming calf (Exod. 32:1–6). This flagrant display of impulsive infidelity didn’t sit too well with Israel’s God.
When we’re in the wastelands of life, faith reflects on what God has done and leaves us utterly astounded.
But this is when Moses intervenes, petitioning the Lord to remember the promises he gave to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exod. 32:13–14). “In wrath, remember mercy,” which, of course, he does, leading God to reaffirm who he is for his people: “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exod. 34:6–7). This is the heart of God for rebels and infidels, a heart that beats with ceaseless grace for the desperate and depraved.
Through all their highs and lows, through all their stupidity, sedition, sin, and strife, he was still their God, and he always would be. The heights and depths of humanity’s sin cannot snuff out his mercy. Habakkuk confesses that all he can do is fall to his knees in abject wonder at the strands of forbearance and providence that God weaves throughout history. His prayer is that all of Judah will be staggered by the same confession. He’s inviting them, and us as well, to take a step back and get a glimpse at God’s exorbitant mercy and grace, which fills every weary and downcast heart with light and hope. When we’re in the wastelands of life, faith reflects on what God has done and leaves us utterly astounded.
2. Faith Rejoices in Who God Is
But as Habakkuk recalls some of the most momentous events in the history of the world, he also recognizes how each of them unveils who God is to the world. The stanza that runs from verse 8 through 15 traces the power of God as seen in conflict and in creation. While there doesn’t seem to be any one specific military engagement in the prophet’s mind, take your pick, and you’ll be greeted by the supreme might of the Lord on full display.
- Like how he split the waters in two to bring his people to safety, and then swallowed their pursuers with those same waters (Hab. 3:8, 15; cf. Exod. 14).
- Like how he turned the worship of his people into a weapon and made their enemies turn on themselves before anyone even unsheathed a sword (Hab. 3:14; cf. 2 Chron. 20).
- Like how he made Jericho’s walls come tumbling down with nothing but marching feet and shouting voices (Hab. 3:12; cf. Josh. 6).
- Like how he made the sun stand still in the sky so his people could finish the victory he’d already given them (Hab. 3:11; cf. Josh. 10).
Over and over and over again, throughout the pages of Scripture, we are reintroduced to a God who fights for those who belong to him. No conflict is too insurmountable for him, nor any obstacle too imposing. He extends his arm of salvation for his people and saves them by utterly crushing their enemies (Hab. 3:13). Even in the face of imminent disaster, Habakkuk knew that every triumph belonged to the Lord. He is the one who freely gives his own a victory they had nothing to do with.
But besides a God of conflict, Habakkuk’s refrain rejoices in a God of creation. Everything that exists does so because of him. He is the one who spoke all things into being. The universe we can’t even fathom, he can measure with the span of his hand (Isa. 40:28). Every element in the vast expanse of the cosmos is humbled in his presence; even the highest and most fearsome mountain ranges bow to their Maker.
One of the deadliest, if not the deadliest, mountains in the world is Annapurna I, which stands at approximately 26,000 feet above sea level, making it the tenth-tallest summit in the world. It is notoriously deadly, though, with roughly one in three climbers not making it down alive, due to its unforgiving terrain and erratic weather conditions. And yet, even Annapurna I “writhes,” twists, and dances when in the presence of Almighty God (Hab. 3:10).
Your faith isn’t tied to some drab old Buddha but to “the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.”
Faith rejoices in this God of victory, creation, and incomprehensible wonder. When we’re faced with circumstances and situations that seem so totally beyond us, beyond what we are able to handle, it might help to zoom out. Your faith isn’t tied to some drab old Buddha but to “the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth” (Isa. 40:28); to the one who never tires or grows weary and whose wisdom and grace are unlimited. Faith brings you into a relationship with this God and frees you to rejoice in him.
3. Faith Rests in What God Is Doing
If we didn’t know better, Habakkuk’s response to what he has observed might be deemed delusional, at best. He describes a scene of unmitigated disaster and devastation (Hab. 3:17). There is no beauty or hope to be found; it’s all been choked out. Judah’s immediate future was an atrocious thought. But despite all of that, Habakkuk rejoices. “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,” he defiantly sings, “I will take joy in the God of my salvation” (Hab. 3:18). Judging by the way things look, this reaction doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. This doesn’t mean that faith is “nonsensical” or “irrational”; it just means that faith is tethered to the sense of someone higher, truer, and better.
Although Habakkuk’s grief and perplexity might not have been fully quenched, he was imbued with hope and praise because his faith fastened his joy to the immovable Lord of all things, not his circumstances. This troubled yet triumphant prophet articulates his faith in God without much in the way of evidence to back it up. But even if there is no immediate evidence, faith reflects on who God is and what he has done, which is what allows us to trust in what he’s doing. “I hear, and my body trembles,” the prophet admits, “my lips quiver at the sound; rottenness enters into my bones; my legs tremble beneath me” (Hab. 3:16).
Habakkuk here describes his very visceral response to God’s words, as if he felt every syllable of God’s judgment in the core of his being. But even though all those emotions were real, he declares, “Yet I will quietly wait for the day of trouble to come upon people who invade us” (Hab. 3:16). The ultimate response of faith is portrayed in settling down and stretching yourself out on God’s promises, waiting on his word of relief to come true. Faith confesses that the God who once did, still can, and surely will. Notwithstanding the pain and perplexity of life, he is always at work to bring about our deliverance, even if we can’t see it: “You went out for the salvation of your people, for the salvation of your anointed. You crushed the head of the house of the wicked, laying him bare from thigh to neck. Selah” (Hab. 3:13).
The God of our salvation has given us a more sure word of promise, because he has already come for us in the person of his Son, Jesus Christ. He went out from heaven and came right to where you are, in the wasteland of sin, death, and squalor. He came for your salvation, and he won it by giving up his life for you on the cross. Your faith is sure because the Christ of God crushed the head of the serpent when he was crucified and rose again (Hab. 3:13; cf. Gen. 3:15). In grief, loss, doubt, and confusion, we can say, “Yet I will,” not because the pain has subsided or the darkness has gone away, but because the God of everlasting grace and mercy will never let you go.
