This year we’re collaborating with writers across the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals, to bring you a series of short devotional articles during this season of Lent, the 40-day period prior to Easter. Find this series also published by UC Berkeley’s TAUG and Cornell’s Claritas.
“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.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.”
Habakkuk 3:17-19 (ESV)
Life often presents us with seasons of deep struggle and unanswered prayers. The prophet Habakkuk understood this well. He prophesied before King Josiah’s death under the corrupt reigns of Jehoahaz and Jehoiakim. Their leadership led Judah astray, prompting God to bring judgment through Babylon’s armies. [1] But Habakkuk didn’t understand why an even more sinful nation was chosen to punish Judah. He cried out to God, asking why He seemed silent in the face of evil. Ultimately, he wrestled to reconcile his knowledge of God’s justice and goodness with the brokenness surrounding him.
We frequently bring the same questions to God. Why does so much evil abound in the world? Why does He allow us to experience such acute suffering? Why does it seem impossible to triumph over our own sin? Asking these questions is not wrong—lamentation is not faithlessness, but an essential act of intimacy with God. [2] Yet as we cry out, we must also confess our trust in Him. [3] As Habakkuk contended with his doubts, he came to a place of resolute faith. So, how may we learn from his example? How do we recognize God’s glory reflected in the broken pieces of our own lives?
Habakkuk’s answer is simple: Rejoice in God! As believers, we have blessed assurance of His righteousness, sovereignty, and faithfulness. Rather than waiting for better circumstances to affirm God’s goodness, we anchor ourselves in His unchanging character. We hasten to the cross, finding the fullness of joy in Christ alone. Because suffering in this lifetime is inevitable, the fragility of circumstantial happiness ought to inspire us to reverential trust in Him. Our trials become an invitation for complete dependence on God: “Though he slay me, I will hope in Him.” [4] This is a radical kind of faith—one that chooses to rejoice even when everything falls apart. [5]
Habakkuk teaches us that joy is not found in outcomes, like Judah’s deliverance, but in God Himself. Note that he doesn’t say God gives him strength, but that God is his strength. To wait in faith and rejoice among despair, we must recognize our own utter helplessness. Christ did not give himself up so we could rely on our own merit, turning to Him only when we need extra help. We are called to live wholly with the Lord, dependent on Him for all things.
Consider the art form of kintsugi, a Japanese method of repairing broken pottery with gold. Instead of concealing the cracks, the gold highlights them, making the vessel even more valuable than before. When we fully surrender our brokenness, God mends our cracks with grace, turning trials into testimonies of His redemption. So even if everything we treasure in this world shatters around us, may we rejoice in the broken shards—not because they remain broken, but because within them, we glimpse the reflection of something infinitely more precious: the face of our Savior.
Heavenly Father, thank You for the mercy that You bestow on us every day. Teach us to bring all of our joy to rest under You and You alone. Please change our hearts to desire You above everything in this world. In the precious name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
Elena Tyvoll is a first-year at UC Berkeley studying Economics and Philosophy.
[1] 2 Kings 23, 24 (ESV)
[2] Matthew 27:46 (ESV)
[3] Psalm 13:1-5 (ESV)
[4] Job 13:15 (ESV)
[5] John 11:21-22 (ESV)
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