Habakkuk’s Prayer

I heard and my heart pounded,
My lips quivered at the sound,
Decay crept into my bones,
And my legs trembled.
Habakkuk 3:16



On Sundays I go to Church and I sing and I pray and I listen and I pray and I respond and I pray and I cry and I pray and I smile and I pray, pray, pray, pray—

And Mondays the world goes topsy-turvy. Your mercies are supposed to be new every morning, but I wake up to days filled with abuse, and even just sheer annoyance.

(Even now, as I write these words, I have had yet one more new worry—and Sunday hasn’t even finished. God, I’m scared for the weeks to come if this pattern continues.)

The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
He delights in every detail of their lives.
Though they stumble, they will never fall,
for the Lord holds them by the hand.
Psalm 37:23-24

I hear complaints, I hear bitterness and despair, I hear anger and dejection—I am surrounded by dried souls, and I am desperate for the rain.

You’ve spoken quietly to me, God. You’ve asked me questions, provoked me to truly consider your words.

You whisper beautiful dreams to me as I sleep, but I awake to nightmares of drudgery and harsh realities.

I am so weak. Pathetic. I tremble at the wind.

Your dreams come with a price, God, and I don’t know if I have the strength to pay.

God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation. Afterward they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.
James 1:12

You give me dreams that make my heart beat fast and true, my mind clear, and my soul sing, yet in the next breath I find myself trapped behind solid walls.

I know that I’m not alone. I know that you’re with me, and that through you I have strength to do all things. I believe this, and I have evidence of it. Your presence is as constant as the sunrise.

But sometimes I don’t understand you. Why do you say one thing, and allow another?

I will stand at my watch
and station myself on the ramparts;
I will look to see what he will say to me,
and what answer I am to give to this complaint.
Habakkuk 2:1

God, please remember me. Please remember the great things you have promised me. The things that have moved my heart and have burned within my heart. You have done such wonderful things in my life already, and I am humbled by the depth of your love.

And sometimes the place I’m at is at a loss for words–
If I think of something worthy, I know that its already yours.
And through the times I’ve faded and you’ve outlined me again,
You’ve just patiently waited, to bring me back…




3 thoughts on “Habakkuk’s Prayer

  1. Dark valleys can feel like hell on earth. In all honesty, I would rather go through months of chemotherapy than have one more night of mental and spiritual torment.

    I don’t understand God, and am not sure I ever will, and I know that we have a relentless Enemy in this world who will attack us in every way he can. I also know that, though I was weary, hopeless, shattered, all but destroyed, when I finally emerged from my darkest valley so far, I found myself remade, better than I had been before. I learned that I needed breaking to be restored, like a bone that once healed crooked.

    While the valleys last, they seem to have no end, but they are finite things. Whatever is going on with you, I’ll be praying, too, and I hope you are clear of it sooner than you think is possible.

    • Thank you. Right now, I think the best thing is to keep soldiering on, even though I think my path is going further down into this valley.

      I’ve been praying for you, too, and thinking about you a lot lately. I’m glad you’re back.

  2. Aye, keep going. Don’t stop. But what will get you through is persistence rather than strength or even hope. Do what you can, and try not to listen to the voices that try and beat you down for not doing more. The old saying “things are darkest before the dawn” seems trite, but there is truth behind it in that the darkness gets so thick, sometimes, that the we cannot see the light coming until we are in it. All we see ahead is darkness, but that is because we cannot even see an inch ahead (though we may think we see more). Pretty lame encouragement, perhaps, but I hope that it touches a chord when you need it and helps you get through a darkness that seems far more real and solid than it is while we are passing through it.

    Thank you! I am doing very well. My hair is coming back in, and I get my port out next week (no more chemotherapy!). 🙂

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