Habakkuk Chapter 3
The Prophet’s Prayer
A. Seeking Revival from the God of All Power
1. (Habakkuk 3:1–2) A Plea for Revival
A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, on Shigionoth. O LORD, I have heard Your speech and was afraid; O LORD, revive Your work in the midst of the years! In the midst of the years make it known; In wrath remember mercy.
Habakkuk now shifts from questioning to worship. The first two chapters recorded his wrestling and dialogue with God. Now that the prophet has been answered, he closes the book with a prayer—a song of trust, reverence, and intercession. “On Shigionoth” expresses a prayer set to music with deep emotion, possibly trembling or intensity in tone.
When Habakkuk says, “O LORD, I have heard Your speech and was afraid,” he acknowledges that the revelation of God’s plan—especially His intention to judge Judah through the Chaldeans—filled him with holy fear. It was not disbelief but reverent awe. The prophet had been overwhelmed by the gravity of God’s purposes.
His plea is simple yet profound: “O LORD, revive Your work in the midst of the years.” Habakkuk does not ask God to spare Judah from discipline entirely, but rather that, during the years of chastening, God would renew His work among His people. He remembered how God worked in former times and longed to see it again. True revival is not the creation of human effort but the sovereign work of God. Man’s role is to pray, to plead, and to prepare his heart for God to move.
Notice Habakkuk’s words: “revive Your work,” not “revive my work.” Human pride often desires God to bless personal efforts or specific ministries, but the heart aligned with heaven seeks the advancement of God’s purposes above all else. As Spurgeon noted, we must shake off self-centeredness and pray for the greater good of God’s glory, even if our own names are forgotten.
This is also a personal prayer. While many are quick to say, “The church needs revival,” Habakkuk’s words lay the responsibility at the individual level. We are the church. Therefore, each believer must cry out, “LORD, revive me.” This requires honest self-examination. Is my conduct pleasing to the LORD, even in private where only His eyes see? Does my conversation reflect holiness, or is it careless, profane, or silent about Christ? Is my communion with Jesus alive, growing, and abiding, or cold and neglected?
“In the midst of the years make it known” expresses Habakkuk’s desire for revival to be something visible and undeniable—not just a private hope but a public work of God. He longs for God’s power to be seen in real-time, in real places, among real people.
Finally, he prays, “In wrath remember mercy.” Habakkuk knows that Judah deserves judgment. He does not argue against God’s justice. Instead, he appeals to God’s mercy within His wrath. He asks that even in discipline, God would show compassion and not utterly destroy His people. This reflects the heart of someone who understands both the holiness and the kindness of God. Spurgeon said that the church has so often failed in her duty that if “Ichabod”—the glory has departed—were written across her forehead, she would deserve it. Therefore, our only appeal is to mercy.
Thus, Habakkuk stands as an example of faithful intercession: humbled by God’s word, aware of judgment, yet pleading for revival, revealing a heart aligned with heaven—fearing God’s speech yet trusting God’s mercy.
2. (Habakkuk 3:3–15) The Power of God on Behalf of His People
God came from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran. Selah. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of His praise. His brightness was like the light; He had rays flashing from His hand, and there His power was hidden. Before Him went pestilence, and fever followed at His feet. He stood and measured the earth; He looked and startled the nations. And the everlasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills bowed. His ways are everlasting. I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction; the curtains of the land of Midian trembled.
Habakkuk moves from prayer to praise, describing a majestic vision of God coming to save His people. Teman and Mount Paran point back to the southern regions near Sinai, recalling when God revealed Himself to Israel during the Exodus. This imagery roots Habakkuk’s confidence in God’s past deliverance. God’s glory covered the heavens and His praise filled the earth, meaning His presence was overwhelming, radiant, and undeniable. His brightness was like the light and rays flashed from His hand, showing that all strength, judgment, and deliverance flow directly from Him. Even when His power appears concealed, it is never absent. Pestilence and fever go before Him, demonstrating His authority over life, death, and judgment, just as in Egypt when plagues preceded His salvation.
When He stood and measured the earth, He was assessing and asserting ownership over creation. At His glance the nations trembled. Even the mountains—symbols of permanence and strength—were scattered and the ancient hills bowed, confirming that nothing in creation can resist the will of God. His ways are everlasting, reminding the reader that His purposes, His covenant promises, and His power do not change with time. Habakkuk mentions the tents of Cushan and Midian trembling, recalling ancient enemies of Israel who were powerless when God acted.
O LORD, were You displeased with the rivers, was Your anger against the rivers, was Your wrath against the sea, that You rode on Your horses, Your chariots of salvation? Your bow was made quite ready; oaths were sworn over Your arrows. Selah. You divided the earth with rivers.
Habakkuk poetically asks if God was angry with nature itself. The point is that God was not simply judging creation but using creation to execute judgment on wicked nations and to deliver His people. He rode on His horses and chariots of salvation, portraying Him as a Divine Warrior who intervenes decisively for His people. His bow was made ready and His arrows were sworn by covenant oath, meaning His acts of deliverance are bound to His faithfulness to His promises. He divided the earth with rivers, echoing the Red Sea parting and the Jordan River standing still when Israel entered the Promised Land.
The mountains saw You and trembled; the overflowing of the water passed by. The deep uttered its voice and lifted its hands on high. The sun and moon stood still in their habitation; at the light of Your arrows they went, at the shining of Your glittering spear.
Creation responds to its Creator in fear and obedience. The mountains tremble, the deep roars, and the overflowing waters yield to His command. The sun and moon stand still, a reference to the miracle in Joshua 10 when God halted the celestial bodies to secure victory for Israel. There is no force in nature or history that does not bend to His authority. His arrows and His glittering spear symbolize swift, unavoidable judgment.
You marched through the land in indignation; You trampled the nations in anger. You went forth for the salvation of Your people, for salvation with Your Anointed. You struck the head from the house of the wicked, by laying bare from foundation to neck. Selah.
God marches through the earth in righteous indignation, not out of cruelty but justice. He tramples the nations that oppose Him and His covenant people. Yet, His wrath is not without purpose—He goes forth for the salvation of His people. Habakkuk makes a crucial statement: salvation comes “with Your Anointed.” This is a direct Messianic reference, pointing to the One through whom God brings ultimate salvation—Jesus Christ. He strikes the head of the wicked, exposing them fully, cutting down their strength from foundation to neck, total and irreversible defeat.
You thrust through with his own arrows the head of his villages. They came out like a whirlwind to scatter me; their rejoicing was like feasting on the poor in secret. You walked through the sea with Your horses, through the heap of great waters.
God turns the weapons of the wicked against themselves. Those who sought to devour the poor and attack God’s people become the victims of their own schemes. Their joy in oppression is cut short by divine justice. Habakkuk remembers once more the Exodus: God walking through the sea, His horses passing through the great waters, a poetic way of declaring His supremacy over the most chaotic and uncontrollable forces. The God who once delivered Israel with power is the same God who will act again.
B. The Triumph of the Prophet’s Faith
1. (Habakkuk 3:16–18) Knowing God’s Strength, Habakkuk Can Trust the LORD Even in Crisis
When I heard, my body trembled; My lips quivered at the voice; Rottenness entered my bones; And I trembled in myself, That I might rest in the day of trouble. When he comes up to the people, He will invade them with his troops.
Though the fig tree may not blossom, Nor fruit be on the vines; Though the labor of the olive may fail, And the fields yield no food; Though the flock may be cut off from the fold, And there be no herd in the stalls—Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
Habakkuk begins with an honest confession. When he heard what God was about to do—raising up Babylon as His instrument of judgment—his body trembled, his lips quivered, and his bones felt weak. This was not cowardice but the natural reaction of a finite man standing before the sheer power and sovereignty of Almighty God. He understood his frailty. He understood Judah’s guilt. And yet, he also understood that he could rest in the day of trouble, for even in judgment, God remained just, holy, and faithful.
He recognized that the Babylonian invasion was certain. They would come upon the people, marching through Judah with their armies, and nothing could stop it. God Himself was directing history. This awareness caused fear in Habakkuk, yet not the fear that leads to despair, but the fear that leads to surrender and trust.
Then comes one of the greatest declarations of faith in all Scripture. Habakkuk imagines the worst possible scenario for an agrarian nation: no figs budding, no grapes on the vines, no olives harvested, barren fields, no sheep in the pens, and no cattle in the stalls. This describes total economic collapse, national ruin, and widespread suffering. Yet in that bleak vision, Habakkuk makes a choice—not to rejoice in circumstances, but in the LORD Himself. “Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” His joy is not in prosperity, but in a Person. Not in what God gives, but in who God is.
Habakkuk understood that God’s greatness is not diminished by human suffering. He does not abandon His throne when life becomes difficult. The right question is not, “If God is good and powerful, why am I suffering?” but rather, “Since God is good and powerful, how should I respond when He allows suffering?” Habakkuk chooses worship instead of bitterness. He admits the pain, sees the devastation clearly, yet refuses to let circumstances dictate his praise.
This is not shallow optimism or denial. Habakkuk does not pretend that the fig trees are blooming or that the fields are full. He sees reality clearly, but he also sees God more clearly. His faith is not anchored in what his eyes see, but in who his God is. God remains unchanged, even when everything else is stripped away.
This passage even impressed Benjamin Franklin, who though not a Christian, admired the majesty of the language. While in Paris, he read this portion to intellectual critics of the Bible, presenting it as an ancient poem. They praised it as profound and beautiful, not knowing it was from Scripture. When he revealed it was from Habakkuk, the brilliance of God’s Word silenced their mockery.
Habakkuk’s confession becomes the defining statement of triumphant faith: even if everything around me fails, I will still trust the LORD. The fields may be empty, the trees barren, and the barns silent—but God is still the God of my salvation, and that is enough.
2. (Habakkuk 3:19) Knowing God’s Strength, the Prophet Trusts God for His Own Strength
The LORD God is my strength; He will make my feet like deer’s feet, and He will make me walk on my high hills. To the Chief Musician. With my stringed instruments.
After declaring that he would rejoice in God even if everything around him failed, Habakkuk concludes with this remarkable statement of confident trust. “The LORD God is my strength” could only be spoken after he surrendered in faith. He no longer relied on the prosperity of vines, fig trees, fields, or livestock. His strength was not found in visible blessings, favorable circumstances, or national security. It was found in God alone. This is not theory to Habakkuk—it comes after wrestling, questioning, praying, and choosing faith over fear.
When a man praises his own accomplishments, or finds security in wealth, power, people, or ideology, then those things are his strength. But when a person praises the LORD, trusts in Him, and places his hope in His character, then the LORD becomes his strength. Worship reveals where strength truly lies. Habakkuk’s declaration is the voice of one who has shifted from anxiety to assurance, from trembling to trust.
“He will make my feet like deer’s feet.” The prophet pictures the sure-footed deer that leaps freely over rocky high places, never stumbling though the terrain is dangerous. This is not the image of someone barely surviving, clinging weakly to God. This is the image of stability, agility, joy, and confidence. Habakkuk says that God will make him like that deer—able to move securely even when the path is treacherous. God does not merely help him endure; He enables him to rise above despair and stand where human strength cannot go.
“He will make me walk on my high hills” speaks of elevation—God lifting the believer above the valley of fear and confusion to a place of perspective and victory. These “high hills” are not built by human effort but given by divine enablement. Habakkuk does not say, “I will climb,” but “He will make me walk.” The power is God’s, not the prophet’s.
The final note, “To the Chief Musician. With my stringed instruments,” shows that this was not simply a private journal entry but a song meant to be sung by God’s people. The chapter began with trembling and ends with triumph. It began with fear and ends with faith. This final verse confirms that true faith does not deny hardship—it rises above it by relying on the strength of God.
Habakkuk entered this book confused and burdened, asking God why injustice and violence were allowed to prevail. He ends settled, strong, and singing. Nothing outside of him has changed—the Babylonians are still coming—but everything inside him has changed. He has learned that when God is your strength, circumstances no longer determine your joy.
