Though the fig tree does not bud
and there is no fruit on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will triumph in Yahweh;
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation!
Yahweh my Lord is my strength;
He makes my feet like those of a deer
and enables me to walk on mountain heights! (Habakkuk 3:17-19)
Last week the spirit of defeat was so thick around me that it felt as if my house were on fire, and I couldn’t take a breath without inhaling the smoke. One sucker punch after another. I was suffocating. Nothing monumental. More like a million little paper cuts, but before I knew it there was blood everywhere.
The baby was on a sleep strike. Again. The sale of our house fell through, which meant so did the purchase of our dream home. We had no money left after bills this month to put towards getting out of debt. The post-pregnancy weight felt so, extra heavy. I could’ve swept a million times and there were still crumbs sticking to the bottom of my feet.
Everything I touched was turning to the opposite of gold.
An overstimulation nightmare.
It was almost as if I could hear the enemy saying "Na na na boo boo, you can’t get me!" And in my sleepless stupor, I almost began to believe him. I could feel myself giving in to a pity party. It would’ve been so much easier to feel sorry for myself than to muster up the energy to push a half-hearted hallelujah through my clenched jaw.
But did you know that Scripture, on at least three different occasions, refers to praise as a sacrifice? Once in Psalm 50:14, Psalm 116:17, and again in Hebrews 13:15. By definition, sacrifice is “an act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy; surrender.”
Most of the time praise costs us nothing. It is easy to say "Thank you, Jesus!" when you’re on the mountaintop. It’s easy to bless His name because.
Because you got that raise.
Because the cancer is gone.
Because you got a positive pregnancy test.
Because everything is going “right.”
But what about when a hallelujah is the last thing left to your name? Will you praise Him anyway?
You lost your job. Will you praise Him anyway?
The cancer has spread. Will you praise Him anyway?
The pink lines on the test faded to nothing. Will you praise Him anyway?
There’s no money in the bank. You haven’t slept and there are crumbs everywhere. Will you praise Him anyway?
Will we say it until we believe it?
I think we have somewhere along the way developed a misconstrued idea that God’s goodness changes with our circumstances, when really it’s the other way around. Our circumstances change because of His goodness.
He’s good. Period.
And He’s working even when the fig tree does not bud and there is no fruit on the vines.
So, the question is, will we? Will we give up our hallelujah like it’s the last dime in our pocket, trusting that God will take it and multiply it? There is something special, some chain-breaking power in saying, “You know what? This is the worst. This hurts. This is scary. But, hallelujah anyway.”
