A Year Held in His Hands| A New Year Sermon
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Well, here we are, at the very end of the short but powerful book of Habakkuk. And let me tell you, chapter 3? It’s different. Like, dramatically different from what came before it. The whole tone shifts, and if you’ve read chapters 1 and 2, you’ll feel it immediately. Habakkuk moves from complaining and questioning… to singing. He’s not whining anymore; now he’s worshiping. And this change? It’s not small. It’s deep. It’s raw. It’s beautiful.
Let’s walk through this final chapter together and see what we can learn.
“A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet upon Shigionoth.” (Habakkuk 3:1)
So right off the bat, this chapter is introduced as a prayer. But this ain’t your average kind of prayer. The Hebrew word “Shigionoth” is a little mysterious. Most scholars think it points to a musical or poetic style—maybe something wild, emotional, passionate. This chapter, then, is like a psalm. It’s got rhythm. Emotion. Even musical notes if you keep reading to the end.
It’s as if Habakkuk decided, “Alright, I’ve wrestled with God, I’ve received answers. Now, I gotta praise.” His heart posture changes. No more wrestling. Just reverence.
“O Lord, I have heard thy speech, and was afraid: O Lord, revive thy work in the midst of the years… in wrath remember mercy.”
Man, this is such a heartfelt verse.
Habakkuk is saying, “Lord, I heard what You said in chapter 2. I get it now. You’re bringing judgment. You’re gonna deal with Babylon. You’ve got a plan. And honestly, that terrifies me.” He’s not just shaking in fear—he’s overwhelmed with awe. You ever had that moment when something just clicks spiritually, and it humbles you? That’s what this feels like.
He doesn’t say, “Stop your wrath,” though. He says, “In wrath… remember mercy.” That’s different. He’s not trying to change God’s mind. He’s simply pleading, “Even in Your judgment, show us some grace.” Wow. That’s faith maturing right before our eyes.
Now these next few verses? They read like a vision, or even like a flashback to when God delivered Israel from Egypt. It’s poetic, dramatic, and honestly kinda epic.
“God came from Teman, and the Holy One from mount Paran. Selah.” (v.3)
Teman and Mount Paran are geographical locations connected with the wilderness wanderings of Israel. But symbolically, it’s like saying, “God came marching in from afar… and He wasn’t quiet about it.”
“His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise.”
You know that feeling when a storm rolls in, and the sky goes from clear to ominous in seconds? That kind of unstoppable force? That’s the vibe here. But instead of weather, it’s God’s glory filling everything.
Habakkuk’s describing a theophany—a visible manifestation of God’s presence. Not in calmness. In power. Fire. Thunder. Pestilence. Earthquakes. Things tremble when He shows up.
In verse 6, mountains “trembled” and “everlasting hills did bow.” That’s not small potatoes. In ancient thinking, mountains were symbols of permanence. Unmovable. Eternal. But when God shows up? Even they collapse in His presence.
These verses continue the wild, vivid imagery. It’s as if God isn’t just arriving—He’s riding into battle. Not just for show. But for salvation.
“Was the Lord displeased against the rivers? Was thine anger against the rivers, was thy wrath against the sea?” (v.8)
The answer is kind of like: No, not really. God’s not mad at the water. The rivers and seas here represent obstacles—chaos, danger, the unknown. God isn’t randomly lashing out. He’s clearing the path. Fighting through the chaos for His people.
“Thou didst march through the land in indignation, thou didst thresh the heathen in anger.” (v.12)
This is strong language. But remember, Habakkuk isn’t making this up. He’s describing the character of God as He’s seen it in history. God has always fought for righteousness. He has always risen up to judge injustice.
And then there’s verse 13:
“Thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people, even for salvation with thine anointed...”
That hits different. It reminds us that even in all this terror and power, God’s motive is salvation. Redemption. Rescue.
This isn’t wrath for wrath’s sake. This is a holy God fighting for His people. Delivering them. And ultimately, pointing ahead to Jesus—God’s ultimate Anointed One—who also came riding into battle, but this time on a cross.
“When I heard, my belly trembled; my lips quivered at the voice...”
You can feel this one. It’s so honest.
Habakkuk has just imagined this entire scene of God’s mighty, terrifying, saving presence. And what happens next? His body gives out. His stomach drops. His lips tremble. His legs go weak. He’s physically affected.
Sometimes we read the Bible like it’s just ink on paper. But encountering the living God? That’s not a light thing. Habakkuk feels the weight of what he’s seen and heard. He trembles. And you know what? That’s okay. That’s real.
But then—right after all that physical trembling—he makes a bold faith statement:
“...yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity to come on the nation invading us.”
Wow. Just… wow.
Habakkuk is saying, “Yes, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m trembling. But I’m still gonna wait on God. I’m still gonna trust Him to handle it.”
Even when everything inside of him wants to panic, he chooses patience. That’s the kind of faith that has wrestled and come out on the other side.
These last verses? They’re some of the most beautiful, faith-filled words in the whole Bible. Let’s read them slowly:
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat...”
Now pause here.
In an agricultural society, that’s basically the worst-case scenario. No figs. No grapes. No olives. No food. No cattle. No herd. No income. No stability. Just… complete economic and physical collapse.
In modern terms, it’d be like saying: “Though I lose my job… though the stock market crashes… though my house gets foreclosed… though the fridge is empty and my bank account is negative…”
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.”
What?! Who says that?
Only someone who’s learned to trust God not because of what He gives—but because of who He is.
Habakkuk doesn’t rejoice because everything’s going well. He rejoices in spite of it all. His joy is rooted in God, not circumstances.
And then verse 19 just brings it all home:
“The Lord God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds’ feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places.”
This is victory language. A deer’s feet are steady even on rocky cliffs. That’s what God gives: stability, strength, and perspective—even when the world is crumbling below.
Let’s be honest—most of us aren’t dealing with literal Babylonians invading our cities. But we’ve got our own battles, don’t we? Financial stress. Family breakdown. Illness. Anxiety. Loneliness. Fear of the future.
Habakkuk’s world was shaking. Ours can feel the same.
But what this chapter teaches is this: faith doesn’t always mean getting answers. Sometimes it means choosing worship in the middle of unanswered questions.
Habakkuk started his book with a complaint and ended it with a song. That’s spiritual transformation. Not because his problems disappeared. But because his view of God got bigger.
Let’s read that last part again. Slowly. Let it sink in:
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom…”
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord…”
That “although” and “yet” are so powerful.
Although life might not turn out the way we hoped…
Although God’s timing might feel long…
Although the harvest doesn’t come…
Although the skies stay dark…
Yet I will rejoice.
Yet I will trust.
Yet I will sing.
That kind of faith? That’s the real deal. That’s faith that’s been through the fire. And came out stronger.
Habakkuk chapter 3 is a song. A prayer. A proclamation.
It reminds us that worship isn't just for the good times. It’s for the “even though” times. The “yet will I” moments. It’s when we choose joy over despair. Trust over fear. Worship over worry.
Habakkuk’s journey—from questioning God to trusting Him—mirrors ours. It doesn’t always happen overnight. But God invites us into that process. Into a faith that stands when everything else falls.
So let’s remember: We don’t always get to choose what happens to us. But we do get to choose our response. And Habakkuk chose praise. Maybe we can too.
Thanks for sticking around this far.
If you’re in a season where it feels like there are no figs, no grapes, and no olives… I hope Habakkuk 3 encourages you. You’re not alone. And even in the silence, God is still working. Still faithful. Still strong.
And when you can’t see His hand? Trust His heart.
Amen.
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