For though the fig-tree shall not blossom, Neither shall fruit be in the vines; The labour of the olive-tree shall fail, And the fields shall yield no food; The flock shall be cut off from the fold, And there shall be no herd in the stalls
Habakkuk closes his book by naming every source of food and income a farming nation had, then imagining each one gone. It raises a simple question: what holds up a believer's confidence when the field, the barn and the fold are all empty?
Each of the three trees stood for something the nation lived on. Each also pictured Israel's relationship with God.
Three trees are named here. The fig tree gave food. The vine gave grapes for wine to gladden the hearts of men. The olive tree gave the oil for anointing the head. These three trees stand out in Scripture. They sometimes picture the relationships the Lord their God had brought Israel into. Habakkuk was no doubt saying that even if all human resources failed, he would still find his resource and joy in the Lord Himself.
The loss runs deeper than hunger. When the flocks and herds go, the altar goes with them.
It was a time of great scarcity that mirrored the spiritual condition of the Jewish people in our days. The fig tree, the vine, and the olive tree are without fruit — all symbols of that nation. Nothing is produced for God. Wheat, sheep, cattle, everything is lacking; there is even no longer a sacrifice to establish communion between Israel and God.
Earlier in his book Habakkuk had been told that the righteous will live by his faith. Here he proves he means it.
Although there is such a magnificent description of the sure judgment of the enemy in all its extent (not merely the Chaldeans now, but all their enemies), and although there is the assured salvation of the people of God, even the Jews, the prophet meanwhile answers to the faith of which he had himself been the preacher, by one of the finest expressions of that faith which the Old Testament contains.
One writer puts the point bluntly for anyone wanting a working definition of that faith:
I want you to notice these words, "The righteous shall live by his faith," and if you want to know what it was for a Jew in those days to live by faith, read Habakkuk 3:17-19. That is a fine example of it.
Notice where his joy does not land. It is not in the rest he has not yet reached, and not even in the salvation itself.
"Yet…" adds the prophet. He lived by his faith and had accepted the promised deliverance as if it were already his. He did not, however, rejoice in the rest that he had not yet reached, nor even in the salvation. He had a much higher joy: he had the Lord Himself, the God of his salvation. He rejoiced in Him, and would always rejoice in Him. This is the God who hid nothing from him. He acted toward him as a friend and made His most secret thoughts known to him. He could count on His mercy, even when all would fail, because He is the God whose blessings endure forever.
The book closes with music, and the timing is the point: the waiting has not ended, but the singing has already started.
The Lord's word about the coming of the Chaldean had frightened him. He was as one astonished, or as a dead man. But now, as a man of faith, he knows he has only to wait, through a season of discipline and patience, sure that all will end in the salvation of God. And in the joyful assurance of this he sings to the chief singer on his stringed instrument. Jehoshaphat entered the battle with the song of victory on his lips. In the same way Habakkuk now enters the season of the vision, the season of faith and patience, in the joy of the Lord, and with a song prepared as for a day of glory.
The barren fields did not disappear. They just stopped being what he looked at.
This was enough for Habakkuk. His soul had dropped its anchor in the calm harbour of God's unchangeable purpose, and he could rejoice in the Lord. Everything around might seem to grow worse and worse… Outward prosperity might all be a thing of the past. Evil might have the upper hand, and those who fear the Lord might be a small and weak remnant. But the prophet's eye was not on things of this sort. From all the failure and discouragement he looked away to the day of God's triumph, and his heart beat with gladness.
- Emptied. Fig, vine, olive, field, flock and herd cover food, wine, oil and sacrifice. The loss is total, with nothing even left to bring to God.
- Yet. That one word is faith answering the ruin. One writer points to these verses as a fine example of living by faith.
- Higher. Habakkuk does not rejoice in the coming rescue but in the Rescuer — he had the Lord Himself, the God of his salvation.
- Singing. The song comes before the relief does, like a man entering battle already carrying the victory tune.
- Anchored. His eye left the barren fields and settled on the day of God's triumph, and his heart beat with gladness.
Yet I will rejoice in Jehovah, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The book of Habakkuk ends with a man who has just listed everything that has gone wrong — no figs, no grapes, no olives, no crops, no flock, no herd. Then he says "yet." Can joy survive when every visible support of life is gone? And what holds it up?
The prophet does not rejoice by ignoring the ruin. He rejoices because he knows what God is doing behind it. One commentator lists what he had learned before he could sing.
He had learned the ways of God in government, seen in chastening His people and in judging their enemies. He had seen a vision. It told him that all God's works in chastening and judgment would lead to the everlasting salvation of His people. Above all, they would lead to the earth being filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD. He may have to wait for the vision to be fulfilled. But he lives by faith in this glorious future, and in the One who will bring it to pass. So he is prepared to face all the trials on the way. Still, the LORD is in His holy temple, and in the LORD he will rejoice, and joy in the God of his salvation.
Notice what Habakkuk does not say. He does not rejoice in the rescue ahead, or in the rest to come, but in a Person.
"Yet …" adds the prophet. He lived by his faith and had accepted the promised deliverance as if it were already his. But he did not rejoice in the rest he had not yet reached, nor even in the salvation. He had a much higher joy: he had the Lord Himself, the God of his salvation. The One in whom he rejoiced, and would always rejoice, was the God who hid nothing from him. He acted toward him as a friend. He made his most secret thoughts known to him. He could count on His mercy, even when everything else failed. He is the God whose blessings last forever.
Most people are happy when the crops come in. One writer sets Habakkuk's words beside a line from the Psalms.
The answer is immediate: "You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound" (v. 7). When material blessings increase, people are usually very happy. But a sense of the nearness of the Lord gives a gladness far deeper than any increase of material riches can ever produce. This holds true even when a person suffers a great lack of material things, as the prophet Habakkuk declares with no uncertainty.
The prophet's circumstances did not improve before he sang. What changed was where he was looking.
This was enough for Habakkuk. His soul had dropped its anchor in the calm harbour of God's unchanging purpose. So he could rejoice in the Lord. Everything around him might seem to grow worse and worse. Outward prosperity might all be a thing of the past. The power of evil might be gaining ground, and those who fear the Lord might be a small and weak remnant. But the prophet's eye was not on things of this sort. He looked away from all the failure and discouragement to the day of God's triumph. His heart beat with gladness. He could joy in the God of his salvation.
This joy was not his natural temperament. It came at the end of a journey, and one commentator traces the stages.
How encouraging to trace the way this God-fearing man is led. He lay on his face in anguish of soul before God because of the failure of God's people. Then he took his stand on the watchtower to hear the words of the LORD. Then, having learned the mind of the LORD, we see him on his knees in prayer. In the end he walks on high places with joy in his heart and praise on his lips.
There is a reason God prizes this kind of gladness.
To live happily in the love of God, through Jesus, is the glory He seeks from us — sinners, self-ruined as we are. And to do this like Habakkuk, when circumstances say the opposite, makes this service and worship still more excellent. It is surely the fruit of His grace and of His power working in us.
- Anguish. Habakkuk starts face-down over the failure around him — the joy at the end is not where he began.
- Answer. He climbs the watchtower and hears God's mind. The chastening and the judgment are heading somewhere: to the earth filled with the knowledge of God's glory.
- Yet. Nothing in his circumstances improves; the fig tree still fails. The word "yet" is faith deciding where to look.
- Him. His joy does not rest on the rescue, or even on salvation. It rests on the God of his salvation — a gladness deeper than any full barn could give.
- Song. The man who lay on his face ends up walking high places with praise on his lips. One writer calls this joy, held when circumstances say otherwise, a still more excellent worship.
Jehovah, the Lord, is my strength, And he maketh my feet like hinds' [feet], And he will make me to walk upon my high places. To the chief Musician. On my stringed instruments.
Habakkuk began his book with complaints about violence and unanswered prayer, yet he ends it singing over empty fields and empty pens. His last verse says where the song comes from: the Lord, who gives him strength, new feet, and ground to walk on.
The verse names God as the prophet's strength at the exact moment the prophet has none of his own. One writer ties this to a promise for people who are empty-handed:
The Lord was not only his joy, He was also the prophet's strength (v. 19) when he was powerless. "Blessed are those whose strength is in You" (Ps. 84:5). Thanks to Him, our feet become like a deer's feet at a time of utmost weakness, when not one promise for the future has yet come true.
Nothing had improved when Habakkuk sang. The strength arrived before the harvest did.
The deer's feet carry him somewhere. One writer names what he is springing toward, and compares the music that ends the chapter with the music that began it:
His feet were like a deer's, springing forward to the age of glory and joy. Yet the crops and flocks had failed completely, along with everything the heart naturally rests on. The prophecy ends on the top note of praise, addressed to the chief singer on his stringed instruments (Neginoth). By contrast, the prayer at the start of the chapter was set to Shigionoth, a wind instrument of shifting tunes — a good deal of blowing with little music.
So the chapter moves from a laboured, uneven tune to settled music.
Habakkuk does not seize the high ground. God gives it, and gives the feet to reach it:
He closes his prophecy with the blessed result of all these precious lessons: he expresses perfect confidence in Jehovah. He would rejoice and be glad in Him even if all the blessing should fail. Jehovah Himself was his strength, his trust, and his support. He would set him on the high places of His blessing. He would give him, as it were, a deer's feet to climb there by His favour.
Note the possessive in the verse: my high places. They already belong to the man who has nothing else. The same writer describes that ground for believers now:
We may rise up to our high places and walk through them with light, joyful, quick, free steps. For believers today, the heavenly places are the ground where we find ourselves in Christ. What does scarcity matter to people who enjoy all spiritual blessings there?
This verse is the last stage of a journey. One writer traces the book by the prophet's posture:
How encouraging to trace the way this God-fearing man is led! He lies on his face in anguish of soul before God, because God's people have failed. Then he takes his stand on the watchtower to hear the words of the Lord. Then, having learned the mind of the Lord, we see him on his knees in prayer. The result is that he walks at last on high places, with joy in his heart and praise on his lips.
Grief, listening, prayer, praise. The order matters; the song is the end of a process, not a shortcut around it.
Habakkuk hands his song to the musicians while his nation is collapsing. That act is itself part of the lesson:
No wonder that in those disastrous times Habakkuk rediscovered worship, as in the days of David and Solomon. He handed his song over to the Chief Musician, to sing it with harp and lyre... Knowing for certain that the things of earth are nothing drives us to the Lord. Then we rejoice in the boundless, unfathomable riches, and one thought overpowers our whole being: to cast ourselves at His feet and worship Him!
Writers apply the verse to times when standing for the truth feels lonely:
When the foundations of pure testimony seem destroyed, it is hard to stand against the crowd of people deserting the faith. Even then we can sing, like Habakkuk, "GOD, the Lord, is my strength; He makes my feet like the deer's; He makes me tread on my high places" (Hab. 3:19). The prophet's steps held steady, though the Chaldeans overran Judah and Jerusalem.
- Weakness first. God became Habakkuk's strength when he had none of his own, and before one promise had come true.
- Feet as the gift. God gives the climbing feet; nobody grows them. So the weakest believer can hold high ground.
- High places as the reach. The verse calls the ground his high places — blessing that God gives by favour, above crops, flocks and collapse.
- Praise as the result. The prophet moves from his face in anguish, to the watchtower, to his knees, to the heights. He arrives with joy in his heart and praise on his lips.
- The song outlives the harvest. He hands the finished song to the chief musician. When earthly things prove worthless, the heart turns to worship.