When God Doesn’t Make Sense

Lessons from Habakkuk

A couple of nights ago, Julie and I attended a fundraiser in Jacksonville. On the way home, my GPS told me to turn at Pecan Park Road and take Highway 17 back toward Amelia Island. That didn’t make sense to me. Everyone knows that staying on I-95 and exiting at 200 is faster. Why veer off?

Well, what I didn’t know was that there was a traffic incident up ahead. Semi-trucks were backed up for miles. Had I listened to the GPS, I would have avoided a long delay. The satellites could see what I could not see.

That’s the situation in the book of Habakkuk. God tells the prophet that He will use the wicked Babylonians (the Chaldeans) to discipline His own people in Judah. To Habakkuk, this seemed like hiring an ax murderer to write speeding tickets. Why would God allow it? Why not act differently?

Like a man in an air traffic control tower, Habakkuk could see planes coming and going but could not understand why some landed safely and others crashed. Life is often like that. We know God’s character, but His actions—or His silence—leave us unsettled. That’s where Habakkuk lived, and it’s where we sometimes live too.

We often hear it said, “It’s a sin to question God.” The truth is more nuanced. It can be sinful, depending on the heart motive. But Habakkuk shows us that wrestling with God honestly and humbly is sometimes part of faith.

Most prophets spoke for God to the people. Habakkuk is unusual—his book is a dialogue with God. It feels more like Job than Jeremiah. He asks hard questions, and God answers. That very dialogue became Scripture, reminding us that there is spiritual therapy in wrestling with God.

Habakkuk was also unique in personality. He was an “artist-philosopher prophet,” using proverbs, metaphors, allegories, questions, and even poetic parallelism to frame his message. God doesn’t flatten personality when He inspires Scripture. Farmers, shepherds, and poets all wrote under His Spirit. Habakkuk’s style reminds us: God wants to use your uniqueness too.

Habakkuk’s book begins with a cry:
He looks around and sees injustice, violence, and corruption. The law seems paralyzed. The wicked surround the righteous. Habakkuk asks: “Lord, why aren’t You doing something?”

God’s reply stuns him:


Habakkuk pushes back. “How can You, the Holy One, use people more wicked than Judah to judge Judah?” His complaint boils down to this: God, what You’re doing doesn’t seem consistent with who You are.

That’s where many of our deepest questions are born—at the intersection of good theology and difficult experience. We know God is omniscient, omnipotent, and good. But sometimes our circumstances seem to deny those truths. Faith doesn’t mean never questioning God. Faith means bringing our questions to God.

In chapter 2, God answers again. He tells Habakkuk:


Then comes one of the most important verses in the entire Bible:


This seed truth is quoted three times in the New Testament—Romans 1, Galatians 3, and Hebrews 10. It is the cornerstone of how salvation works. We are justified, not by works, not by law, not by religious ritual, but by faith in what God has done.

Meanwhile, Babylon will not escape judgment. God pronounces five “woes” against them, exposing their greed, violence, and idolatry. The proud may prosper for a season, but God’s justice is sure.

Application: God’s promises may seem delayed, but they are never denied. The righteous endure, not by sight, not by outcomes, but by faith in what God has spoken.

The final chapter shifts from complaint to worship. Habakkuk prays:


He recalls God’s mighty acts in history—shaking nations, splitting seas, scattering enemies. But he doesn’t just look back. He looks forward in faith.

Even when circumstances collapse, he resolves to rejoice:


That’s not denial. Habakkuk admits his fear: his body trembles, his lips quiver. But faith allows him to wait quietly and trust deeply. God Himself becomes his strength, making his feet like those of a deer, steady and sure on the heights.

Habakkuk begins his book with a question mark and ends with an exclamation point. His circumstances hadn’t changed—Babylon was still coming. But Habakkuk had changed.

Faith does not always give us answers, but it gives us stability. The righteous live by faith—not by feelings, not by sight, not by outcomes. And ultimately, that faith finds its fulfillment in Jesus Christ. In Him, we are justified and can face life—and even judgment—without fear.

The invitation is the same today: Will you live by faith? Not in your own righteousness. Not in earthly stability. But in Christ alone.