Hope When Its Hard- Habakkuk

Let Me Start at the Beginning

When I first opened the book of Habakkuk, I figured it would be a one-sitting kind of moment—just three short chapters, nothing too heavy. I thought I’d spend a quiet time with the Lord, read it through, and move along.

But God had other plans.

He has this way of settling me into something and asking me to stay until He’s finished—not when I am. What I assumed would be a 30-minute read turned into four months of sitting with the same words. Day after day, I found myself circling the same verses, asking the same questions, and listening a little closer each time.

At first, I resisted. I couldn’t understand why I was being drawn back to this same book again and again. But as the days passed, I began to crave the time—rushing to my little corner with expectancy, wondering what God would unfold next in this tucked-away corner of Scripture.

These next pages are pieces of that journey—notes from study, pages from my heart, prayers scribbled in the margins. I hope you find something here that speaks to you, just as the Lord spoke so clearly to me. It was in this quiet, unexpected space that breakthroughs happened.

Before diving deep into the book of Habakkuk, I found myself wondering: Who was this man? Sure, we know him as a minor prophet, but where did he come from? What was his background? Who were his people? Down here in the South, we’re quick to ask, “Who’s your mama?” — and after a few days with Habakkuk, I was asking the same thing. How did he become a prophet? What path led him there? I wanted to understand more about the man I was spending so much time studying.

Some scholars suggest that Habakkuk may have been the son of the Shunammite woman mentioned in 2 Kings. If that’s true, I encourage you to pause and go read her story — the miracle involving Elisha and his servant is remarkable. And if this theory holds water, imagine the weight of divine expectation that may have followed Habakkuk all his life. But I digress...

Unlike many prophetic books in Scripture, Habakkuk doesn’t open with a family tree or a detailed account of his upbringing. We don’t know many details of his youth or who his parents were. Instead, the book opens straight into a raw and honest conversation with God — no backstory, just bold questions. And that struck two chords with me because:  

1)    Most of my life I felt disqualified from doing the Lord’s work because of my past. But Habakkuk reminded me that God doesn’t require a perfect pedigree. When He calls you, He equips you — regardless of your past.

2)    I, too, can be bold when I talk with God and I should expect God to be bold with His answers…expecting God and waiting on Him to answer me.

If the book of Habakkuk has captured your attention so far, I invite you to continue this journey with me. Let me share a piece of my own story — one that explains why I camped out in this little book for so long. I call it: Hope When It’s Hard.

At this stage in my very adult life, I had taken a leap of faith. I walked away from a career I had built over thirty-two years — one where I had earned my place through experience, education, and perseverance. I stepped into something completely new. I traded security for calling, and it was terrifying. I was certain I’d heard the Lord, but as the fear crept in, I began to question everything. I went from a steady paycheck to zero income — and zero would remain until I could build something from the ground up, client by client.

That’s when I found myself drawn to Habakkuk.

Face down, carpet fibers pressed against my nose, I cried out to God much like Habakkuk did: “Where are You? How long will You let me suffer? What now?” I wasn’t new to business — I knew how to lead, how to manage, how to grow. But this was different. This was sales. And to be honest, I didn’t feel cut out for it. I was flailing, praying, digging deep for anything that resembled hope — asking God for a lifeline after finally saying yes to His call.

The more I read, the more I related to Habakkuk’s tone — bold, raw, and unfiltered. He didn’t hold back his confusion or his frustration. He questioned God’s silence. He couldn’t reconcile what he knew of God’s character with the chaos around him. And I felt that deeply. I had obeyed the call, stepped out in faith, and now found myself in a wilderness of waiting, wondering if I had made a massive mistake.

But here’s what struck me: God didn’t rebuke Habakkuk for asking hard questions. He answered. Not always with clarity or comfort — but He responded. And maybe that’s what I needed to see. That the silence wasn’t abandonment. That the waiting wasn’t wasted.

As I spent time in those three small chapters, God began to work on my heart. I didn’t suddenly wake up to a flood of clients or feel a surge of confidence in my sales abilities. But I did begin to see what Habakkuk saw — that even when the fig tree doesn’t blossom, and the vines don’t produce fruit, I can still rejoice. Not because of my circumstances, but because of who God is.

He Came From There

One verse in particular brought me back to God’s faithfulness — though I didn’t fully grasp it at first. Habakkuk 3:3 says, “God came from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran.” At first glance, I was puzzled. God doesn’t come from anywhere — He is eternal. He always was, and always will be. So why does the verse say this?

As I sat with it and asked God to help me understand, He gently stirred my heart:"I come up out of the circumstances. I meet you in the ruins. My glory shows up in the places you thought were lost."

And suddenly, I saw it.

He came from that night when I was a little girl, afraid of the monsters under my bed.

He came from those teenage years when I was rebellious and pushing every boundary.

He came from the wreckage of a broken marriage.He came from the long nights of loneliness when grief wrapped itself around me like a fog.

He came from the recession of 2008, when finances were tight and hope was thinner.

He came from the pain of losing a husband to cancer.

He came from the struggle of parenting, the pressure of being a single income earner, the exhaustion of building a business from scratch.

He came from there. Because He was always with me there.

He didn’t wait for me to get it together. He showed up in the wreckage — again and again. Yes, He was faithful in it all.

That shift didn’t happen overnight. It came slowly, prayer by prayer, verse by verse, word by word, as I stopped asking God to change my situation and started asking Him to change me. Habakkuk’s journey reminded me that faith isn’t about having all the answers — it’s about trusting the One who does, even when nothing makes sense and things don’t seem fair.

And so, day after day, I kept coming back to this little book. I underlined. I questioned. I prayed. I wrestled. And in that process, something sacred happened: I found hope. Not the wishful-thinking kind, but the anchored kind — the kind that holds even when everything else feels unsteady.

A Final Word: When Obedience Feels Costly

Habakkuk didn’t start his book with praise — he started from a place of pain that created boldness and urgency. But he ended with a declaration of faith: “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.” (Habakkuk 3:18)

That verse became my anchor.

Obedience doesn’t always yield immediate fruit. Sometimes, it leads us into seasons of testing, waiting, and stretching. But God is faithful in the silence. He is present in the wrestle. And He is working — even when we can’t see the evidence yet.

So if you, like me, find yourself asking “Where are You, God?” — know this: you're in good company. And you’re not forgotten. The God who sustained Habakkuk in uncertain times is the same God who will sustain you.

A Prayer for the Wilderness Season

Lord,Thank You for meeting me in the middle of my fear and uncertainty.

Thank You for reminding me through the book of Habakkuk that I don’t have to have it all together for You to use me.

Forgive me when I doubt Your presence in the silence.

Forgive me when I try to control what You’ve asked me to surrender.

Teach me to rejoice, not just when things are good, but especially when they’re not. Strengthen my faith like You did Habakkuk’s — not by changing my circumstances, but by changing my perspective.

Help me to walk in obedience, even when the outcome is unclear.

Help me to trust Your timing, even when it feels slow.

You are my strength. You are my source. You are my hope when it’s hard.

In Jesus’ name,

AMEN

A view of the Grand Tetons. Its a clear day to see the range making hope seem like a reality even if the journey is hard.