A Criticism of Habakkuk's New Book, circa 600 BC

Justice Prevails is the new best-seller from self-proclaimed prophet Habakkuk.^[1]

The title Justice Prevails is a rather heavy-handed title, seeming to rule out all aspects of God's nature other than justice.^[2] And the justice in the book is not really justice at all. Most of the book Habakkuk rightfully describes all the awful things that the Babylonians are capable of doing, but somehow a just God is just going to let them destroy the chosen people of God. Not only is the love of God missing from this book, but the justice presented is a distorted justice coming strictly from the mind of Habakkuk.

Habakukk starts his book out by asking questions. This relatively small book is full of questions and short on answers. In fact, no reasonable answers are given throughout Habakkuk's entire book. Even by the end, Habakkuk is left to steep in the answerless void that is his theology. A theology of an unknowable yet just God who uses wicked people to punish righteous people. And miraculously, somehow by the end he can still say he will rejoice in the Lord?^[3]

This book of Habakkuk's is dangerous theologically. It portrays God in an irreverent light: The "god" of Habakkuk is a god that can be questioned, a god unconcerned with the people he chose through our father Abraham, a god who would use heathens for his purpose. This is not the God of the Torah. It also portrays a God unconcerned with the wickedness of foreign nations. Did not God send Joshua into the land of Canaan to judge the wicked nations there? How can Habakkuk then write a book exactly counter to the message of the book of Joshua? They both cannot be true. How can an evil people be sent by God to destroy his chosen people? That is not justice! It does not even make any sense!

This kind of "prophecy" of Habakkuk's only leads to a liberalization of interpretation of God's word, a disrespect for God, and in turn the moral degradation of society. We have already seen this in respects to the Northern Kingdom and their prophets. Jonah made a failed mission trip to Nineveh, and the Assyrians destroyed Israel anyway. (Someone should have told Jonah that God is a God of Israel, not Assyria.) Hosea had a prostitute for a wife! A prostitute! No wonder God destroyed Israel with the Assyrians, for all the wickedness of their "prophets"! Habakkuk only follows in the liberal and heretical footsteps of Jonah and Hosea. What is next? A prophet who uses theatrics and imaginative visions to pull in the new generations like a lustful song? A prophet who spends an entire book unjustly criticizing God?^[4] May it never be!

1. This is (hopefully, obviously) a parody on some of the criticism of Rob Bell's recent and controversial book, Love Wins. In using Habakkuk, I am NOT trying to equate Bell's work with Scripture, or even endorse everything he says as right. I am instead trying to point out some of the intellectually dishonest criticisms of his book by criticizing a book that everyone would accept as the inspired Word of God with the same criteria that is being used against Love Wins.
2. I chose the title, Justice Prevails, because that also tended to be one of the big criticisms of Bell, that he ignored justice in favor of love. Here, I flip the criticism. Habakkuk seems to ignore love in favor of justice.
3. Habakkuk 3:18-19
4. A reference to other prophets that came after Habakkuk: Ezekiel (specific reference to Ezekiel 33:32) and Jeremiah's book of Lamentations. 

My Talk with God

I have a pondering spot down by the river. I go there when I need to get away and do some serious thinking. I sit on a rock beside the mighty rushing all-consuming flowing trickling Arkansas River and contemplate the deep things of life. It is also a place I often talk with God.

My pondering place.

That is not quite accurate. It's more like I talk at God, and then God lets me sit there and stew for a bit. God and I have a strange relationship.

Last evening, it was time for one of those talks at God. That is not quite accurate, either. It was time to complain at God. When I feel something is going wrong, I feel like Job felt after all those awful things happened to him. In that moment, I feel like Job. I am Job. I feel no remorse in the moment that I have equated my petty problems with Job losing all his children and wealth, sitting in a pile of ashes scratching himself with a potsherd. That is totally me. And I will quote Job's same line to God, as if God hadn't heard it the first time with Job, or that God would now be moved to answer differently after he sees how bad I have it.

I would lay out my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments. I would know with what words he would answer me, and understand what he would say to me. Would he contend with me with great power? No, he would only pay attention to me. There an upright person could present his case before him, and I would be delivered forever from my judge.
~Job 23.4-7 (NET)

It was late at night, almost midnight, and I made the trek to my pondering spot which is about a mile from where I live. I just walk north up a suburban street until I reach the river and then follow the river to the pondering rock. It's not that I have to go to this specific place to talk with God. He's everywhere, right? This is more for my benefit. It eliminates all the other things that might distract me from properly complaining.

After I reached the river and made my way to my pondering rock, I looked up at the night sky and noticed that the stars were obscured by total cloud cover. God wasn't going to play the make-Eric-feel-insignificant-in-the-face-of-the-seemingly-infinite-universe card tonight. He probably didn't think my complaint was worth unfurling the heavens.

I sat on my rock, and I gave God a chance to talk. I always give him a chance to explain himself before I start on my complaints. He's never taken the opportunity, but you never know, right?

So after God doesn't speak, I start to speak. It doesn't really matter what my problem was this particular time (it never really matters). But after I finished God still did not talk. He let me sit there...

...and sit there...

...and continue to sit there...

...until finally I come to a realization that I knew the answer. In fact, the answer had been staring at me in the face the entire week. And I suddenly felt stupid, inconsiderate and arrogant in the face of the Almighty God.

So I said a quick apology and returned home. He doesn't say anything back, but I imagine it would be something like, "See you next week, Eric."

I told you God and I have a strange relationship.

Zulu Hymns

I had the opportunity to spend time with a church in Eshowe, KwaZulu-Natal where they have a dual language service in both Zulu and English. I recorded a few of the Zulu songs that were sung while I was there. Zulu has sounds that are not present in English that sound like clicks. You can catch a few of those in some of the songs. You might also be able to recognize an old familiar hymn or two in there as well.

Venda Song

Here is a brief recording of one of the songs sung at the Venda services I mentioned in a previous post. It wasn't recorded with the best of equipment (being out in a rural area with no electricity), and I tried to clean up the audio as best as I could. This recording does not do the song service justice, but I hope it gives you at least a taste.



I think you can probably pick out the woman I was talking about. I don't know her name, but I absolutely love her enthusiasm!

Memories of My Grandmother

I attended a Venda-speaking church in Limpopo Province this past Sunday. They had a dual-language service, with translation into English or Venda (depending on the speaker), but the songs were completely in Venda. The song books they used simply had the lyrics to the songs with English translations under them. They were truly beautiful songs, and I gained an appreciation for the beauty of Venda that morning.

Sitting behind me a few rows back was one woman who belted out the songs as loudly as she could with great zeal and enthusiasm. I could not help but be comforted by that.

My Grandmother Faye would always sing loudly in church. When I say loud, I mean loud. I remember as child whenever we would visit my grandparents, I was always so embarrassed by my grandmother. You could always hear her. Sometimes she was louder than the whole rest of the congregation combined! On long notes, her voice would ebb and rise and grow louder still until you wondered whether she was still singing, or whether she had started screaming (or at least that was what I wondered back then).

Later, I had come to be more tolerant of my grandmother's exuberance. In fact, I came to not be embarrassed by it, but proud of it, inspired by it. She didn't have the same self-doubt I had. I'm always so self-conscious about what others may think of me, that I sometimes shy away from doing what I want to do. My grandmother sang her heart out.

Now that she's gone, that is one of the memories of her that still sticks in my mind more clearly than most all others.

As I listened to this Venda woman belting out songs in a completely foreign language on a continent on the other side of the world, I was brought back to memories of my Grandmother Faye. I couldn't help but smile, and sing along with the Venda as best I could manage (but still not so loud).

The Churches of Panera

A couple Sunday mornings ago, I sat in a Panera Bread enjoying a breakfast before church services. On either side of where I sat, Bible study groups were gathered at opposite sides of the store. I marveled at the interesting scene before me. In my head I named the two groups, and then an entire dialogue developed in my head.

Rightside Panera Bread Church

Do not be swayed by the larger more diverse group on the left side of Panera Bread, dear children. For did not Jesus say in Matthew chapter 25 that he shall separate the goats to the left, and they shall be cast from his presence into eternal punishment? Assuredly, only the Rightside Panera Bread Church is the true church. Be not deceived!

Leftside Panera Bread Church

At one point, there was only one church at Panera Bread. We preferred the left side of the building because of the superior lighting in the morning. We also desired to spread butter and various jams and jellies on our breads. For the bread of Panera Bread is a good bread, but is in need of condiments to make it palatable.

Rightside Panera Bread Church

If the bread of Panera Bread was meant to have additional condiments, would not the bakers have made it thus? Truly, to add beyond what the baker intended is an abomination to the bread of Panera Bread which is already a superior bread in need of no additions.

Leftside Panera Bread Church

Your religion is a bland and undesirable religion! Next you will be telling us we cannot add cream and/or sweeteners to our morning coffees.

Rightside Panera Bread Church

You dare add your own variations to the coffee which was brewed to be a sufficient coffee for all who may partake? Heathens! Sinners!

Leftside Panera Bread Church

Miscreants! Pharisees!

Disclaimer: Not intended as a statement concerning all churches.