All in Encouragement
The prophet Habakkuk recorded a third prayer to God. This prayer was in the form of a song written for the choir director to be song with stringed instruments. Habakkuk responded to what God foretold of the judgment of Israel by the invading Babylonians. Even though God declared that He would defend His people with His mighty arm, Habakkuk "trembled within" as he waited quietly for the Lord’s deliverance.
Scholars wonder about the prophet Habakkuk’s name. It’s only used in this Old Testament book, and it’s written in a non-standard Hebraic form. They believe it’s likely related to an extinct eastern language referring to the Habbaququ fruit tree. Imagine his challenge of having such a one-of-a-kind name among his teasing peers. My children can imagine. They carry a Polish last name (containing even more letters) that’s unique to this area of the country. I told them often that their name made them distinctive.
I have a mental list of biblical characters I want to meet in heaven, and Habakkuk isn’t on it—at least not until recently! His name sounded harsh and I assumed it probably matched a typical prophet’s personality and message. Recently, though, I discovered some things about Habakkuk that drew me in, besides the fact he included a song in his prophecy. His Old Testament writing was unique in that he spoke to God on behalf of the people rather than speaking to the people on behalf of God. His format included three prayers and God’s three answers. Like Job, Habakkuk struggled with understanding God’s ways. He had lots of questions and was willing to present those “why” questions to God.
My grandson plays high school baseball. He can throw a wicked pitch called a curveball. It’s especially hard for batters to hit because it dives downward as it nears the plate.
Why in the world did our Bible study leader pick the seemingly unimportant book of Habakkuk to study? In the majority of the book we just see complaints about the upcoming trials of the people of Israel. What could I learn from that? I did not anticipate picking up much from this short little book in the Old Testament.
Did you know that I am privileged? I really am. And, lest I sound arrogant or prideful, did you know you are privileged too?
On my morning walk, I passed a neighbor walking the opposite direction. I greeted her and asked how she was doing. She paused and replied, “I’m making it.” I understood her response. Her life has become complicated because of her mother’s failing health.
She finished reading the book and declared, “It was a journey I didn’t like being on.” Using that statement to describe a book is no big deal. But for many of us, that statement describes a complicated life situation that we can do nothing about. Many of us are on journeys we don’t like.
Have you ever known someone that is an incessant name-dropper? They needlessly share names and places in conversations or on social media. It’s become so common today that no one really notices.
Trials are hard. They’re messy. They’re down right painful. Do you feel blessed when you experience them?
Do you know how precious metals are refined? Smelting is the process in which gold is separated from ore and other metals. The ore is first pulverized with extreme pressure to create tiny particles, which are then melted at almost 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. As the gold becomes molten, most of the impurities are burned up.
No matter how you slice it, life is full of challenges. Each hardship represents some sort of loss; loss of a person, home, safety, stability, or purpose. This is why these experiences can be so painful.
Praise the Lord! He rescues us from the pit! I don’t know about you, but I have been in the pit many times throughout my life. Sometimes it’s sin that throws us into the pit, however, sometimes it is circumstances out of our control that throw us head-long into it. spit
My teenaged son lost his last baby tooth today — about two years past the typical time kids do.
I got an unexpected email this weekend from the first babysitter who ever kept my boys.
For the past two fall seasons, I’ve experienced severely dry eyes. Raw, irritated and red. Most of the time I just want to close them.
As I sat in Sunday School, I heard my husband read this scripture. The words jumped out. I was guilty even as he spoke the words. And I’m one of the teachers.
The sad houseplant looked like how I felt. Forgotten, parched, brittle and malnourished. I had been so busy these last few weeks with all the responsibilities of keeping a family fed, clothed, and content, that I’d neglected that plant. I rushed it to the sink like a heart attack victim to the ER. Refreshing water flowed, but the soil was so hard and dry that the life-giving liquid just ran off into the sink. No matter how heavy the flow or how long the water ran, it just poured off the surface, wasted and unappreciated. I finally placed the weary plant in a pan of water to soak and hoped that the leaves would rise, the color would return, and the plant would be vibrant again.
I met a man from Mosul, Kurdistan, an elegant godly man. That’s when Nineveh and the story of Jonah and the whale became real to me. Mosul is the modern-day city of Nineveh. The gentleman grew up there and told me Jonah’s Tomb was located there, though recently desecrated.
