Still I Rejoice

Transcript

Hello, my friend… so glad you're with me today. This is By God's Call — day 284, Still I Rejoice.

"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." Habakkuk 3:17-18.

This is not the verse of someone who had a rough day and decided to look on the bright side. This is the end of an entire book of wrestling. Habakkuk opens by questioning God — why does violence keep going unpunished? Why do the unjust prosper? Why does God seem silent while His own people suffer? The prophet argues, presses, demands an answer. And God answers — but not in the way Habakkuk expected. And it is after that long conversation, after listening and still not understanding everything, that he arrives at these closing words.

Notice the list he builds. Fig tree without blossom. Vine without fruit. Olive without produce. Fields without food. Empty fold. Empty stalls. Six losses, one after another — and each one represented, in that agricultural economy, total collapse of survival itself. This isn't a soft metaphor for "a bad day." This is real hunger. This is the concrete possibility of having nothing to eat.

And then comes the word that changes everything: yet. After listing every possible loss, hiding none of it, minimizing nothing — yet I will rejoice in the LORD.

Notice he doesn't say "I will pretend everything is fine." He isn't suppressing the pain or denying the reality. He is choosing, with his eyes wide open, where he will aim his joy. And that joy is not tethered to the harvest — it is tethered to the person of God.

And look at the final title he chooses: "the God of my salvation." Not "the God of my crops." Not "the God who always fills my barn." He chooses to hold onto something no drought, no economic collapse, no circumstance can ever touch — the salvation that is already his, guaranteed, secure.

That changes how we live, doesn't it? Because most of us have learned, without even noticing, to set our joy on top of things that can fail. The job, the bank account, our health, a relationship. And when those things wobble, our joy wobbles right along with them. Habakkuk is showing you another way — not a way without pain, but a way where joy has an anchor deeper than the circumstance.

So today, I want you to think: what area of your life feels as empty as Habakkuk's stalls? Maybe it's financial. Maybe it's relational. Maybe it's a dream that didn't work out. Name that area — not to pretend it doesn't hurt — and declare out loud: "Yet I will rejoice in the LORD." Not because the pain is gone. But because your joy is anchored in Someone bigger than it.

Stay close to God. Pray — then act. I'll see you tomorrow, my friend.