When God Doesn’t Move Your Mountain

You may recall from my last post that a new and unsettling circumstance has presented itself. (Click here to catch up)

A circumstance that feels like a mountain.

I’ve been asking God to move it.

And telling Him how He might best accomplish this.

But so far the whole Matthew 17:20 thing about the faith of a mustard seed moving a mountain hasn’t moved anything.

My faith and I feel like dismal failures.

Until I spend some time with Habakkuk . . .

An Old Testament prophet whose first two chapters of his 3-chapter book read like a back-and-forth with God.

Mostly Habakkuk’s commentary on how his circumstances appear.

And his feelings.

His name actually means to embrace or wrestle, which is pretty much what’s going on.

Embracing God while wrestling with Him.

Habakkuk complains.

“What? is? happening?”

God answers.

“I’ve got this.”

Back-and-forth. 

For two chapters.

I get that.

This week my 7-year-old grandson learns he’s going to have to start doing his own laundry.

At least bringing his clothes to the washer, folding them out of the dryer, and putting them away.

The news dismays him.

“What? is? happening?” he blurts.

Adding, “I do not like what I’m hearing!”

I guess we all meet our mountains, buddy.

Habakkuk, my grandson, and me . . .

And maybe you, too. 

So I’m anxious to get to that third chapter to discover how Habakkuk’s wrestling match ends.

Surprisingly the tussle ends with a song.

To be sung with stringed instruments.

A song entitled: Habakkuk’s Prayer

Every line is beautiful, but the last one takes my breath.

The Lord God is my strength— 

he will make my feet like those of a deer, 

equipping me to tread on my mountain heights.

(Habakkuk 3:19 ISV)

Did you catch that?

Habakkuk’s mountain is not going to move.

Instead, the Lord is going to help him across his mountain.

Up one side and down the other.

The Amplified Bible, which takes word meaning and context into account, translates the final line of Habakkuk’s prayer:

The Lord God is my personal bravery, 

He makes me to walk

[not to stand still in terror, but to walk] 

upon my high places

 [of trouble, challenge, or responsibility]!

Is it just me, or is this speaking to you too?

He makes me walk, or sim, comes from one of the most-used action verbs in the Old Testament. 

Sim implies deliberate placement.

Where every mountain is set by divine intention. 

Nothing changes in us when we insist on standing still at the foot.

Stuck in “What? is? happening?” mode.

Or offering God counsel.

“This is how You need to move what vexes me out of my way.”

Ahem. 

Guilty.

I love Habakkuk’s take.

Some mountains are not meant to move.

Instead, they are divine invitations.

Invitations to trust God.

Take steps of faith.

Talk with Him on the uphill journey.

And listen.

Because like Isaiah, who heard God’s still small voice on a mountainside, sometimes the side of a mountain offers the best acoustics.

For hearing. 

And listening. 

Habakkuk’s prayer is meant to be sung by a choir, perhaps by an entire congregation. 

And by us.

At the foot of our personal mountains.

And on the climb up the slope.

Stringed instruments optional.

See you in a couple weeks.

Love,