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Thursday, June 11, 2020

On the Book of Habakkuk

    The book of Habakkuk is the story of a man who is disillusioned by the way the world works and the way God chooses to work. It is the story of a man who begins with weeping and ends with rejoicing, who begins with anger and indignation and ends with awe at the glory of God. It tells of a man who chooses to wrestle with God and comes out the other side with new revelation.

    This little book of only three chapters packs within it so much emotion, doubt, questions and answers, and the dichotomy of the evil and suffering of this world and the justice, beauty, and glory of God. In just three chapters, Habakkuk lays out for us a model for how to respond in times when God seems distant or unjust, when questions need answers, when we are wrecked by calamity or disillusionment. Habakkuk shows us how we can find joy and the assurance that God is with us, and for us, in a world as dark as ours.


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    The book of Habakkuk, despite its relative length, is one of immense depth, such that I lack the conceptual wherewithal to adequately extract its wealth. Thus, I am dependent on divine revelation to have anything approximating a proper understanding of this book. It goes without saying that the three chapters we call "Habakkuk" are significant for both the individual and the collective, and they are especially poignant in light of our day; their timeless words we now find exceptionally timely.

    The book of Habakkuk speaks of the broken: the man and the system; brokenness as a result of being touched by malevolence as well as being the source of it. Violence was in the streets and King Jehoiakim of Judah was not any better, whom the prophet described thus: "But your eyes and your heart are set only on dishonest gain, on shedding innocent blood and on oppression and extortion" (Jer. 22:17). From the bottom to the top of the social totem pole, injustice and strife painted those coarse faces blood red. What do you do when the one who wears the golden crown of justice and order turns against you? What do you do when you need to guard yourself against your neighbor? What do you do when the soldier who fought for your freedom draws his sword on you? You then have only God to turn to. But what if God Himself does not seem to listen? Well, that is the big frustration of the man's very first words.

    The first point of interest is how the Lord answers. He reassures that He is still involved and active even in this dark time. God is still on the move. But there is a catch: you are not going to like it. It is almost like those good-news-bad-news jokes. Telling Habakkuk to be amazed, He goes on to describe the coming army, wicked and cruel, but He does it with a surprising extravagant flair; it almost sounds like God Himself is quite amazed at their terrible strength; it is as though God wanted to paint them in all their cruel glory, not to diminish their brazen wrath. If Habakkuk was looking to a positive turn of events in his day, all hope for that is gone. It is only going to get worse. The passage wraps up with this description: "...guilty people, whose own strength is their god." Put a bookmark on that statement as we will return to it.

    The next fascinating thing to point out is that Habakkuk begins with a complaint that God did not seem to have an intention to answer his cries; however, when God, quite abruptly, does reply with a plan of action, the prophet shoots back with an objection to the expressed methods. It seems that Habakkuk thought he would be happy with any answer from God only until God actually ends up giving him one. First, he was upset with God's inaction, then he is upset with God's plan of action. In his defense, though, it really seemed like God was, in a way, playing games with the poor man by giving him precisely what he did not want; the complaint of God's turning a blind eye is met with a resolution to continue turning that ever-watchful eye. In his second complaint, Habakkuk raises a decent and proper objection: that God is not acting in accordance with His own character; it is quite an accusation. Some may suggest that he is trying to be very tactful about it, and perhaps he was; but I think the man of God at this point was not feeling much of a desire to be tactful. To me, Habakkuk's high praises and colorful epithets leading into his followup speech is an attempt to remind God of His own nature as one who could tolerate no evil; he boldly called God into account and cross-examination. He then goes on to appeal to Jehovah's divine jealousy, stating in effect that the Babylonians will attribute their earthly successes to their own schemes and the works of their own hands. And by their means of oppression, they shall live in wealth and luxury. In this conversation between man and God, we see Habakkuk experiencing what is essentially a faith crisis, not that his faith is wavering but that his conceptual understanding of God is being challenged. Apparently, God is not entirely how he thought He is.

    This experience of psychological death is reflective of a necessary, archetypal truth: our established understanding of reality is not perfect nor sufficient; when it gets old it becomes restricting to learning and new revelations. And when we learn something new that updates our current knowledge, some old ideas have to die. Sometimes they are small and manageable, other times they are big and traumatic, but the process of letting the old, inaccurate parts of you die so that you can have a refreshed perspective is a necessary one. This is true in daily living, and is especially true in regards to the nature of Being and God. Essentially, a faith crisis occurs when one encounters a startling indication that God and reality are not exactly how one originally thought they are. But when a man finds himself in the valley of such an experience, he has two choices: either to lose his faith or to reconstruct it stronger than before with what he has found to be true. Here we see Habakkuk making a clear choice that allowed him to be rooted deeper in his faith.

    My next observation stems from Habakkuk's last words in the beginning of the next chapter, words that seem more to himself than to anyone else. Those words imply to me that God did not answer immediately, just when the conversation was only getting started. The question here then for the prophet would be common for all people:

What does one do in this space of limbo when the voice of God falls silent?

    Habakkuk has to learn to deal with confusion about questions that were answered and questions that weren't.

    Here we encounter what I consider the great hinge of the entire book, the pivoting point that shapes the words that came before and the ones that come after, for it is at this point where the man decides what to do in his season of questioning and doubt. Here we can learn much from the prophet. When he feels that his spiritual perspective has crumbled around him, he resolves to come face to face with the very object of his faith. Taking his post on the ramparts, his face is set to receive the reply he believes will come. When the patriarch Jacob received his new name, he was told what it meant, and what it continued to mean for his descendants: the name "Israel" means "he who wrestles with God." Such are the Christians. No one should think that the journey of the Christian is one of roses and butterflies. The journey of the Christian is the journey of anyone who desires to walk righteously in this world: to wrestle with reality, and the God who holds it. This is Habakkuk's choice as he stands at his station, welcoming the opportunity to contend with the truth. It is a bold decision, one not many people choose to make.

    What does it mean to be on watch? It means to be alert and attentive, to look for signs of, to prepare for, to anticipate. The concept of waiting takes me to Psalm 40:31. Some writers chose to say "those who wait on the LORD;" other chose the translation "those who hope in the LORD." After some thought, I figured out why: if a man waits, he has hope; if he hopes, he will wait. Still other English writers (to me, this indicates the relative incompetence of the English language) chose the word "trust," and they would still be right, for where there is no trust, there will be no hope, nor will a man wait. So Habakkuk's determination indicates the presence of some amount of trust and hope--in other words, faith. In his waiting, we find a kind of persistence not common among the people of the faith.

    His patience is not in vain as God enters the scene again. The instruction is given to write down the coming revelation. He is to inscribe it as sure as it is true, certain and plain. Such is an act of faith, for the word of the Lord is as sure as written law. The day on which the prophecy will be fulfilled is set; it will come to pass, not a second too early no too late; it arrives precisely when it is meant to. Here is the point: though fate feels out of your hands, know that it is in someone's hands, and that someone is one whose word is law.

    This is also contrasted by what is expressed in Zachariah 10:2, stating: "The idols speak deceitfully, diviners see visions that lie; they tell dreams that are false..." Holding these two passages side by side nails in the point that, while there are many alleged sources of visions, there is only one source that is credible.

    Additionally, Zachariah goes on to say: "...they give comfort in vain." This is a critical distinction: the diviners speak of false visions that give comfort, but in vain; God in Habakkuk speaks of a truth-telling vision that does not give much comfort to its hearers, but is grounded in eternal security.

    God then goes on to spend twice the amount of time dramatically describing the fall of Babylon than He did when announcing their imminent wrath. Their reign shall be short lived, and their wickedness shall be their downfall. The means of their demise will quite literally be their own deeds.

Verse 7-8: "Will not your creditors suddenly arise? Will they not wake up and make you tremble? Then you will become their prey. Because you have plundered many nations, the peoples who are left will plunder you. For you have shed human blood; you have destroyed lands and cities and everyone in them." Also in verse 17: "The violence you have done to Lebanon will overwhelm you, and your destruction of animals will terrify you. For you have shed human blood; you have destroyed lands and cities and everyone in them."

    They have chosen to lead a life of chaos, and chaos will overtake them. One does not simply raise a lion cub as a pet; without caution, that cub may one day turn on you with full-grown jaws. Likewise, beware if you choose to play with fire, lest that same fire grows beyond your power and overtakes you. We find the same truth in the story of the great Flood. Who was there who walked in righteousness and truth? Not one. For every man did what seemed right in his own eyes. That kind of moral relativism flirts with a life of chaos; therefore chaos, archaically symbolized by the rushing waters, rose to destroy them. But the man Noah who chose truth and right standing, and raised his family likewise, found his feet on solid rock, for such is the truth and such is the Lord. This is why we are given those famous words: that the righteous shall live by their faith. But here I want to point out again the horrid and wonderful phenomenon that is the English translation. We know the verse by heart to say "faith," for indeed that is what the apostle Paul meant; however, while not technically incorrect, the English word has evolved in our sorry modern usage to mean a fraction of what it should mean. The Greek pistis has two kindred meanings: one being faith, as in belief, which we know; the other being faithfulness. The latter is the meaning closer to its origins in Habakkuk 2:4, in which the Hebrew 'emuwnah describes fidelity and steadfastness. In other words, to the Hebrews, faith is the twin sister of faithfulness. Why is this important? Because it fits the puzzle concerning the demise of the wicked; if the unrighteous will ultimately be betrayed by the pseudo-foundations of blood, extortion, and moral relativism, the righteous will ultimately be saved by the firm foundations of truth, charity, and worship; as the proverbs declare, wisdom will rescue you in the day of trouble. Here God assures Habakkuk that the wicked will face judgment, both Israelite and Babylonian. It is true that He can tolerate no evil; but it is also true that there is redemption on the horizon for the one who is faithful. One more note: God's second passage wraps up with this statement: "Of what value is an idol carved by a craftsman? Or an image that teaches lies? For the one who makes it trusts in his own creation..." Put another bookmark on that.

    Here we arrive at what I consider possibly the greatest part of the book, given by Habakkuk himself. This shout of victory, proclaimed long before the day of victory, is a song that claims the everlasting security of God. The book begins with a stream of questions, it ends with a fount of declarations; it begins in doubt, it ends in faith; it begins bewailing the unseen, it ends rejoicing in the not-yet-seen; it begins with a mournful cry, it ends with a triumphant song. The prophet's heart has found its rest, not because all its questions are answered but because it has established an undoubting confidence in the character of God.

    But all this, I find, is hooked on the peg of what I think is the second hinge upon which the book is held: a little obscure behind the giant number "3," before the song is sung, we find words by Habakkuk himself in response to the great revelation. As God's mighty voice subsides, the man whispers, "The LORD is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him." It is from this that his song emerges, from this that his praise arises. For it is that upward gaze that secures us.

    Let me take you back to the prophet Isaiah's commissioning. He was lifted up in the spirit and saw God in His holy temple with the seraphim bathed in glory. This is the upward look. As the temple shook and was filled with smoke, Isaiah was painfully aware of himself and cried the age-old words: "Woe to me!" This is the inward look. Then, as his lips were touched with the burning coal and his sins declared atoned for, he was met with God's desire to raise up a prophet to the people, to which he very enthusiastically answered. This is the outward look. Thus, we find this general model: the upward look leads to an inward look and inspires an outward look. Everything begins with the eye turned to heaven. The key then to the Christian journey revolves around the continuous need to gaze upward to the identity and character of God; such a gaze will shape everything else in life and set it all in place.

    Finally, we come to the place where we lay our third bookmark. Verse 19:

"The Sovereign LORD is my strength..."


    We see the contrast between trust in one's own strength, trust in an empty creation, and trust in the sovereign Lord; the contrast between the thing that has no breath and the one who gives me breath. In Habakkuk's declaration, I hear the words of Joshua echo in the still night air: "Choose you this day whom ye will serve...but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD."

    The book of Habakkuk contains more than has been put on paper, and I am very much aware of how I have come short of exhausting all it contains. It stands as a testimony for the one who questions and doubts; it stands as a representative journey for the Christian. God told the prophet to write it down plainly, and he did. Today we read of the ordinary man with ordinary questions who gave us the everlasting statement that fueled the defining movement of the apostolic ministry and eventually the great Reformation: the righteous shall live by his faithfulness.

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