Preceding Praise
A while back, I was reminded of a story that takes place in
the Old Testament. As the Israelites finished conquering the Promised Land,
they would need to wage battle against one final strong, established, fortified
city. Although their numbers were great, the enemy was greater. The odds would
be against them, and it would require nothing short of military brilliance to
conquer the city.
But God had something else in mind. Rather than military power
or might, He asked something unexpected of the Israelites: He asked them to
praise and worship Him. Just to praise Him, and trust Him with the outcome.
You’ve probably heard of the story. It’s one that’s familiar
to most of us. It’s the story of Jericho.
For seven days, the people marched around the city blowing
trumpets and shouting praise to their God. Seven days. Days that could have
been spent on training or planning or scouting the best routes into the city. I
can’t imagine the monumental step of faith it must have been to obey God, to
abandon everything that made sense and simply praise Him.
On the seventh day, as we all know by now, the people
marched around the city seven times before the trumpets were blown and the
people shouted. At the sound of their worship, the walls fell.
David knew what it meant to praise God in the very caves in
which he hid, fearing for his life.
Daniel knew what it meant to worship God in full view of his open
windows, knowing it could lead to a lions’ den and certain death.
Hannah knew what it meant to praise God long before she had
conceived and given birth to the son for whom she had prayed and wept.
And Habakkuk knew what it meant to praise God even when
everything else had failed and there was nowhere left to turn.
It was Habakkuk that reminded me today of the story of Jericho.
I am facing some big things; places I’m being asked to walk in which I’ve never
walked before. The verse, “The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet
like the feet of a deer, he enables me to walk on the heights” (Hab 3:19) was echoing
through my mind. Because I very much need a God who strengthens me and
enables me to walk on heights I’ve never climbed.
As I searched for the verse in Habakkuk, I thought that was
where God would meet me today. And He has, in a sense. But (as He often does),
He had something fuller and deeper for me, too.
He had a reminder that our victories are often preceded by
praise.
The Israelites in Habakkuk’s time were corrupted and drowning
in the mire of their own sin and selfishness. As had been predicted, the invasion
of Babylon was just around the corner. Habakkuk knew this, and he knew that, as bad
as they were already, things would get worse. His people would suffer. There
would be shortages and famines and exile and death. There would be very little
to hold on to. And yet, there was a promise. The same God who would hand them
over to exile would also bring them home again. He would be faithful to them in
every part of the journey ahead of them. As Habakkuk recalled all that God had
done for them in their escape from Egypt and in conquering the Promised Land, he
claimed the truth of God’s mighty power and ability to save. And he praised
God.
Though the fig tree does not bud
And there are no grapes on the vines,
Though the olive crop fails
And the fields produce no food,
Though there are no sheep in the pen
And no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
He enables me to go on the heights.
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)
What does it take to lead with praise? To march out ahead of
the battle, ahead of the victory, and praise God? It takes a knowledge of who
God has been in the past, and who He will always be. It takes faith.
Yet sometimes that praise is the very thing that brings
about our victory. Like the walls of Jericho, crumbling and collapsing at the
sound of the Israelite voices, praise itself has power. Power to change us.
Power to change others. Power, even, to affect our circumstances.
When we give ourselves to praising God, especially in the face
of the unknown, it has a tendency to shift our hearts so that we have a right
view of who we are and who God is. The verses leading up to this passage in Habakkuk
describe God’s power and glory in magnificent terms. I have to imagine that as
Habakkuk praised God for who He is, he was also reassured. He was
reminded of the mighty, mighty God to whom he was praying. He was reminded of
all that God had done before on behalf of His people. And he was reminded of
how very small and incapable he was by comparison. It shifted his faith from
himself and the logical (but inadequate) things he could do in his situation to
the majestic, boundless power and ability of God.
Sometimes praise is counterintuitive. In fact, it’s often
counterintuitive. When we face desperate situations and mounting unknowns, the
last impulse of our heart and mind is to praise God for a victory that hasn’t
yet happened. But we serve a God who is mighty. Who is faithful. Who is
powerful. Who is worthy of our praise.
And, more often than not, that praise precedes victory.
