Prayer, Fear, and Faithful Pleading Text: Habakkuk 3:1-2
Introduction: From the Watchtower to the Prayer Closet
We have been following the prophet Habakkuk on a tumultuous journey. He began with a righteous complaint, a holy perplexity. How can a holy God use the wicked, idolatrous Babylonians to chastise His own covenant people? God answered him, assuring him that the proud Babylonians would get what was coming to them in due course, and that in the meantime, the just must live by faith. Habakkuk took his stand on the watchtower, waiting for the Lord's reply, and God gave it to him. But now, in this third and final chapter, the prophet's posture changes. He moves from the watchtower of questioning to the prayer closet of worship. The entire chapter is a prayer, set to music. It is a psalm, a majestic poem intended for corporate worship. This is crucial. Habakkuk's personal wrestling match with God was never intended to terminate on himself. It was to be brought into the assembly of the saints and sung. Theology that does not lead to doxology is always defective theology.
Habakkuk has heard God's plan, and the only proper response is to fall on his face. He has seen the instrument of God's wrath, the Chaldeans, and he has heard God's promise of their eventual destruction and the preservation of a righteous remnant. Now, he prays. But this is no sentimental, quiet-time prayer. This is a prayer born of holy terror and confident faith. It is a prayer that acknowledges the awesome, terrifying power of God in history, and pleads with Him to act again. It is a prayer that trembles, yet trusts. This is the model for the church in every age that finds itself staring down the throat of what appears to be a godless, pagan juggernaut. We hear the report of God's works, we fear, and then we plead for Him to do it again.
Our generation has lost this kind of prayer because it has lost the fear of God. We want a manageable God, a God who fits neatly into our three-point sermons and our therapeutic worship songs. We want a God of mercy without majesty, a God of love without wrath. But Habakkuk knows better. He knows that the God who saves is also the God who shakes the nations. The God who delivers His people is the same God who rides the storm and makes the mountains tremble. And so, his prayer is not a request for comfort, but a plea for divine intervention, a plea for revival, fully aware that when God shows up, things get gloriously dangerous.
The Text
A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, according to Shigionoth.
O Yahweh, I have heard the report about You, and I fear.
O Yahweh, revive Your work in the midst of the years;
In the midst of the years make it known;
In rage remember compassion.
(Habakkuk 3:1-2 LSB)
A Prophet's Psalm (v. 1)
We begin with the inscription, which sets the stage for everything that follows.
"A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, according to Shigionoth." (Habakkuk 3:1)
First, this is a "prayer." The prophet, having received the word from God, now speaks back to God. This is the rhythm of true spiritual life. God speaks, we respond. Revelation demands a response, and the only sane response to the revelation of a holy and sovereign God is prayer and worship. This is not a philosophical treatise; it is a direct address to the living God. Habakkuk is not merely thinking about God; he is talking to Him.
Second, it is a prayer of "Habakkuk the prophet." His office is important. He is not speaking as a private individual with a private opinion. He is speaking as one who has been set apart by God to receive and declare His word. What follows is inspired Scripture. This is God teaching us how to pray in the face of impending judgment and chaos. This is not just Habakkuk's prayer; it is now our prayer.
Third, it is "according to Shigionoth." This is a musical or liturgical term. The precise meaning is uncertain, but it likely refers to a wild, passionate, emotional style of music, perhaps with rapid changes in rhythm. Think of it as a dirge and a victory shout rolled into one. The root word suggests "to reel" or "to err," indicating a highly emotional, dithyrambic poem. This tells us that deep theology is not meant to be dry. The truth about God's awesome power and justice ought to stir our affections. It ought to make us feel something. There is a place for loud, passionate, exuberant, and even jarring praise. Our worship should have a pulse. When we grasp the realities Habakkuk is dealing with, a placid, predictable, and passionless response is entirely out of place.
Holy Fear (v. 2a)
The prayer itself begins with a foundational response to God's revelation: fear.
"O Yahweh, I have heard the report about You, and I fear." (Habakkuk 3:2a)
The "report" he has heard is everything God revealed in the first two chapters. He has heard of God's holiness that cannot abide Judah's sin. He has heard of God's sovereign decree to raise up the Chaldeans as His instrument of chastisement. He has heard of the coming invasion, the destruction, and the exile. And he has heard God's subsequent promise to judge the wicked Babylonians for their arrogance. He has heard the whole terrible, glorious, and intricate plan. And the result is fear.
This is not the cowering, servile fear of a slave before a tyrant. This is the reverential awe of a creature before his infinitely powerful and holy Creator. It is the kind of fear that Moses felt at the burning bush, that Isaiah felt in the temple when he cried, "Woe is me!" This is the beginning of wisdom. Our generation has done everything it can to domesticate God, to make Him safe. We talk about God's love as though it were a sentimental indulgence. But the biblical saints knew that the love of God is a consuming fire. To hear a true report of God, to really understand His sovereignty, His justice, and His holiness, is to be undone. If your theology does not make you tremble, it is a defective theology. Habakkuk has looked into the abyss of God's sovereign plan, and it has shaken him to the core.
A Plea for Revival (v. 2b)
From this place of holy fear, the prophet makes his central petition.
"O Yahweh, revive Your work in the midst of the years; In the midst of the years make it known;" (Habakkuk 3:2b)
Having heard what God has done in the past and what He is about to do in the near future, Habakkuk's prayer is that God would do it again. "Revive Your work." The work he is referring to is God's mighty acts of salvation and judgment in history. He is thinking of the Exodus, the parting of the Red Sea, the conquest of Canaan. He is about to recount these very acts in the rest of the chapter. His prayer is, "Lord, we have the records of Your mighty deeds. We have the stories. But we need to see it again. Let our generation not just be students of past revivals, but participants in a present one."
He asks God to do this "in the midst of the years." This is a plea for God to intervene in their present crisis, in the middle of their historical mess. It is a prayer against divine silence and inaction. "Lord, between the memory of what You did at the Exodus and the promise of what the Messiah will one day do, do something now! Make Yourself known in our time." This is the cry of every true believer in an age of decay. We see the wickedness of our own nation, we see the fecklessness of the church, and we look back to the Reformation or the Great Awakening, and our prayer must be the same: "O Yahweh, revive Your work in the midst of our years!"
And he asks God to "make it known." Revival is not a secret, private affair. It is a public demonstration of the power and glory of God. Habakkuk wants God to act in such a way that the whole world sits up and takes notice. He wants a work of God that cannot be explained away by sociologists or political commentators. He wants God to put His reputation on display for all to see.
Mercy in Wrath (v. 2c)
The prophet concludes his opening plea with a profound and paradoxical request.
"In rage remember compassion." (Habakkuk 3:2c)
This is one of the most theologically rich petitions in all of Scripture. Habakkuk does not ask God to set aside His wrath. He knows that is impossible. God's wrath against sin is as essential to His character as His love. A god who is never angry at evil is not a good god. The coming judgment on Judah is righteous, necessary, and deserved. The coming judgment on Babylon is righteous, necessary, and deserved. Habakkuk affirms the rage. He doesn't question God's right to be angry.
Instead, he appeals to another of God's attributes: His compassion, His mercy. He prays that in the very midst of the outpouring of holy rage, God would "remember" His covenant compassion. To "remember" in this context does not mean that God might forget. It is a plea for God to act on the basis of His covenant promises. It is an appeal to His steadfast love, His chesed. "Lord, as you are executing your just judgment, remember Abraham. Remember David. Remember Your promises. Remember us, Your people, who deserve the rage but are pleading for the compassion You have promised."
This is the heart of the gospel. God does not set aside His wrath to show us mercy. At the cross of Jesus Christ, God's rage against sin and His compassion for sinners met in a perfect, violent, glorious collision. On the cross, God poured out the full measure of His rage against our sin upon His own Son. He did not compromise His justice. And in that very act, He remembered compassion. He satisfied His own wrath so that He could extend His mercy to us without violating His holiness. Habakkuk's prayer is ultimately a prayer for the cross. He is asking God to be who He is: the just and the justifier, the one who in rage, remembers mercy.
Conclusion: Praying with Habakkuk
These two verses set the tone for all true Christian prayer in times of cultural crisis. We are not to be naive optimists, nor are we to be cynical pessimists. We are to be hard-headed, Bible-believing realists. We must begin by hearing the report of the Lord. We need to have our ears open to what the Scriptures say about God's holiness, man's sin, and the certainty of judgment. We cannot just read the parts of the Bible that make us feel good.
And when we hear that report, we must fear. Not a fear that drives us to despair, but a holy awe that drives us to our knees. A generation that does not tremble before the Word of God will not see a revival from the hand of God.
From that place of fear, we must plead. "Revive Your work." We should be desperate to see God display His power in our day, in our churches, in our nation. We should be jealous for His reputation. We should want Him to "make it known."
And finally, our plea must be grounded in the character of God Himself. We do not appeal to our own merits. We have none. We appeal to His covenant faithfulness. We acknowledge the righteousness of His rage against our sins, and we cling to the promise of His compassion, a compassion secured for us at Calvary. In our rage, we often forget compassion. But God, in His rage, always remembers it for those who are in Christ. That is our only hope, and it is all the hope we need.