Nothing Else is Working Either

Though the fig-tree does not blossom… and all kinds of other signals that nothing is happening, no fruit, no production, no output, no harvest, no engines, no fuel, no input…

It's a famous few verses at the end of the book of Habakkuk. The conclusion to the statement, is about rejoicing in the Lord, the God of my salvation, even then. And then the final verse makes statements about the difficult places — that God enables our feet to keep walking, just like the animals who live on steep cliffs.

I love all this. Not for the usual reasons, perhaps. Those too.

It's an encouraging verse. No question. Resolve. Motivation.

But it has something I know I've needed and still need.

Acknowledgement of something that feels impossible and unfair. But can be made so by — the weather? Climate?

Nothing.

No sign of life.

No sign of moving in the right direction.

No hint of a vote of confidence.

In fact, the kind of evidence people would point to that God has let you down, that there is no God, or that there certainly is a God and you deserve everything that's happening — or not happening.

This prophet (Habakkuk) goes higher.

Emphasises his commitment. His conviction.

Put this verse in the hands of artificial intelligence, and it might tell you that keeping positive has been shown to be a strong move.

This is not that. Not just that.

Keeping positive would mean staying expectant, hoping for the best. Remembering other seasons are coming.

Yep, all true.

And yet — this prophet speaks as if a whole lifetime of neutralisation could be taking place.

He has already expressed trembling, quivering, rotten bones.

And of committing to waiting quietly ahead of an anticipated invader causing trouble and distress.

This is real.

I pause.

This is me.

I get this.

Me too.

How it feels. What he describes.

That camp. His church.

verse 18:

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.

I will exult in the God of my salvation.

In my Bible this verse links to Romans 8:37

Yet amid all these things, we are more than conquerors through Him…

In this book Paul has described life being made uncomfortable for him in all kinds of suffering and distress. Life on the line. Pursued. As sheep for the slaughter.

There must be something I need in here.

The shift is everything.

Conquerors, we might imagine, would fight back and win.

But more than conquerors?

Not just prosperity restored for Habakkuk, but beyond the need for it.

In the heights and depths of impossible terrain:

rejoicing.

…

I wonder if we are so locked in to the algorithms of success we find it hard to ignore them.

Even if we don't own a business, or star in a movie.

We know what life should look like. In theory.

Family.

Finance.

Fun.

At least sometimes?

What happens when nothing is happening on a longterm basis?

The doctor?

Netflix?

Ukulele club?

Habakkuk rejoices. Paul does too.

Part of the territory.

…

Now, a contemporary reader of my blog post could argue many things.

These are true examples of persecution, not just everyday life in ordinary circumstances.

A writer who seems depressed should not be trusted.

Ancient words in a dusty book are irrelevant.

I'd like to make a case then.

It seems strangely contemporary.

That what we're preoccupied by — the stuff that really hurts, surrounds us all, costs so much — doesn't go away just because we've learned to ignore it, therapy ourselves around it, fill life with other distractions. Or manage it better.

It's basic mortality on a plate.

"We can't take it with us."

That even goes for X, famous rich person,

Y, well-networked people person,

Z, inheritor of lands and profits.

Within 100 years of reading this — 

poof!

Maybe 10.

Or 1.

It may be that some people — probably all of us at some time or another — are given an unavoidable view of the condition that faces everyone.

Perhaps society is keen to find ways to solve that in order to avoid the rest having to think about it either.

But the ancient words demonstrate that there's another way to see things.

Irrespective of today's downturn.

Or upturn.

Fascinating.

A paradigm shift.

Sight through the 3D picture.

Transformed minds — for those who watch the story of a faith that goes for the jugular: through the face of death.

And out the other side.

Not just remembering, rejoicing.

Plugging into that.

I had someone once ask me:

Isn't it cruel to suggest that people in times of suffering should take this view?

I'm not sure how I answered. But today I'd say,

— yes cruel, if those saying it are speaking from being slightly too heady with the abundance of good things they have on earth that the listener lacks.

— But not cruel, if whoever is saying it is facing the need for it to be true for themselves too.

When that happens, the ground is levelled.

Rich and poor, faced with their suffering, realising not just that it'll all be over soon but something has already begun.

I was once walking in the grounds of a place owned by a rich person.

Richer than me anyway.

They had welcomed me to stay for a while.

They said,

you don't know how fortunate you are.

You get to wander the landscape, watch the black swans, the geese taking off from the lake… as if it was your own. No bill for the gardener, no insurance liability, no worry for its future. Sleepless nights wondering how to pay off debts owed on it, and how family will steward it in the future…

I wish I was in your position.

…

Any one of us reading this has a relevant perspective.

What's happening to you, to me — that is exactly what Habakkuk's words are talking about.

The unique complexity that no one else would sit around long enough to hear about.

That.

And what Habakkuk's saying is:

I will not let the state of play reshape what it means to be alive and in faith.

What is ultimately true is already here.

The Truth is already here.