My Favorite Prophet

Habakkuk, says—and I paraphrase like a good Midwesterner: Though apple trees do not blossom and there isn’t a single red strawberry to be found, though the corn rots in the husk and the fields produce no wheat, though the cattle die in the fields and the milking barns dry up… I will shout the triumph of Yahweh, I will jump for joy in the God of my salvation. Lord Yahweh is my strength—not the fertile fields. It is he alone who makes me leap like a buck in the mountain passes. I walk with my God in the heights when all around me are sinking in depression. (Hab 3:17-19 and excerpted from the next post)