The Prophet Habakkuk and Miracle Max

She and I were engaging in the delightful kind of online banter which has become typical in our relationship.  A comment I’d left on her blog reminded her of a scene from The Princess Bride, so of course she posted a video clip. I responded,

It is my firm belief that there isn’t a conversation in the world that can’t be enriched by a quote from The Princess Bride.

(True story: the first time my daughter brought my son-in-law-to-be home for a visit, before going to bed I hugged him and said, “Good night. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”)

So it should come as a surprise to no one that as I was reading through Habakkuk, Miracle Max sprang to mind.

Habakkuk is a tiny little book of prophecy, tucked near the end of the Old Testament, the pronunciation of which, I’m sure, has tripped up many a young person trying to memorize the books of the Bible in order to win a Sunday school award. Not much is known about this prophet, but his words are mostly an argument with God about why he wouldn’t just hurry up and do something already about the violence and wickedness that were troubling his people.

Habakkuk launched two complaints before God and, after the second one, waited for God to answer him. Rendered in these beautiful words from The Message, God spoke:

Write this.  Write what you see. Write it out in big block letters so that it can be read on the run.

(And, if I might hazard a guess, so that generations later when people like Nancy Franson stumbled across it she wouldn’t miss the point)

This vision-message is a witness pointing to what's coming. It aches for the coming—it can hardly wait! And it doesn't lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It's on its way. It will come right on time.  Look at that man, bloated by self-importance—full of himself but soul-empty.

But the person in right standing before God through loyal and steady believing is fully alive, really alive. Habakkuk 2:3, 4

Then because I’m terribly irreverent, or quite possibly because I have way too much useless trivia stored in my head, these words of Miracle Max sprang to mind:

It just so happens that your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive.

For Westley, erstwhile farm boy and dread pirate wannabe, Miracle Max’s words represented good news. He was still slightly alive.

But for Easter people, those of us staking everything on the reality that death could not hold Jesus and that his resurrection changed everything, slightly alive hardly seems like cause for celebration. God says he offers me more.

In truth, on the day I read those words I felt as though I was merely ambling through life, neither all dead nor fully alive; somewhere in between.  I was existing--going through motions, rearranging bathroom cabinets. Waiting for something—I don’t know what—a shoe to drop?

Not really living up to my full potential.

So what did the good prophet Habakkuk have to say to someone like me? How am I supposed to do this living fully thing? Two things:

Be in right standing before God. That’s the good news-gospel part, the part that says because of Christ’s work on the cross I am, by faith, declared righteous before God.

Loyal and steady believing.  In order to live fully I need to keep believing this Easter story, day after day. Jesus conquered death. He rose, and he reigns. And he is good.

On Easter Sunday my pastor read these words from David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, singing about what the reign of the risen Christ looks like:

When one rules justly over men,
    ruling in the fear of God,
 he dawns on them like the morning light,
    like the sun shining forth on a cloudless morning,
    like rain that makes grass to sprout from the earth.

“For does not my house stand so with God?
     For he has made with me an everlasting covenant,
    ordered in all things and secure.
For will he not cause to prosper
    all my help and my desire?

2 Samuel 23:2-5, ESV

The reign of the risen Jesus is characterized by the dawn of morning light, sun shining and rain falling; abundant, fruitful, life-giving things. He offers plenty of evidence through his word and all about me that he is present, his promises are secure, and he is good.

So maybe when I’m ambling about, feeling as though I’m waiting for a shoe to drop, I need to get out and muck around in this world where Jesus reigns; see, touch, taste, and feel all the way up to my head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Perhaps this is the invitation God is writing for me in big block letters. And he waits for my response:

As you wish.

Linking with Michelle @ Graceful:

And with Jen and the sisterhood: