Prologue: The whisper of injustice
The wind moved heavily over the ancient stones of Jerusalem. There was an eerie
silence, as if the city held its breath, waiting for something it could not yet
comprehend. Amid the dusty streets and the distant murmur of the Temple,
Habakkuk walked slowly, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his heart filled with
questions he could find no one to ask. Each day he awoke with the feeling that
something was amiss, that the world he knew, his world, was teetering under the
weight of injustice, and that no one, not even the pious, seemed to notice the
growing crack in the fabric of divine justice.
Habakkuk was not like other men. From childhood, he had felt an inner fire, a
restlessness that set him apart from his peers. While others played or conformed to
traditions, he looked beyond, seeking answers that were not in books or the words
of the elders. His soul found no rest in the face of injustice; his spirit could not
ignore the suffering of the humble, the arrogance of the powerful, or the impunity
of those who ruled with an iron fist and a hardened heart. And yet, there was
something deeper, a question that echoed within him: Why does God allow all this
to happen?
That afternoon, as the sun sank down on the city's weathered walls, Habakkuk
stood before an abandoned well. The stone was cold, and the reflection of the sky
in the water was barely a glimmer through the grime and moss. He bent down and,
for a moment, allowed the voice he kept silent to become audible, though only to
himself. "Lord… if you hear, if anyone is there… why do you allow evil to rise so
high, and the righteous to suffer in silence?" The question hung over the well, and
the echo of his words seemed to dissipate before reaching any answer.
From the outside, someone might have thought Habakkuk was alone, but he wasn't.
There was a presence. There always had been. For years he had felt the nearness
of something greater, something invisible that seemed to watch his every step,
every thought. It wasn't fear he felt; it was anticipation, the sense that his life was
about to change irrevocably. And yet, fear began to creep in: what if his quest for
justice left him alone, without refuge, without guidance? What if questioning the
Almighty was a greater sin than the evils he saw around him?
Translated from Spanish to English - www.onlinedoctranslator.comIn the stillness of the evening, Habakkuk recalled the stories of the ancient
prophets: men and women who had spoken and cried out to God, who had
confronted kings and armies, and who had held fast to the faith even as the world
crumbled around them. He wondered if he, too, was called to something like that,
if his restlessness was not mere rebellion, but a sign that his spirit was meant to
act. His heart pounded; he could not ignore the voice that now whispered in his
ear: "There is a purpose in your anguish, and your question will not go
unanswered."
That night, Habakkuk dreamed of hazy yet powerful images. He saw razed cities,
armies advancing on defenseless villages, and corrupt men celebrating victories
that seemed unpunished. But amidst the destruction, he also saw glimmers of
hope: a child offering bread to a hungry one, an old man protecting the weak, and
men and women who, though small in the face of the vastness of evil, upheld their
integrity like a banner. When he awoke, the sun was just rising over the horizon,
and he felt that his dream was not only a warning; it was a calling. His heart
burned with a purpose he could not ignore.
As he walked back home, Habakkuk realized he could not remain silent. He could
not simply stand by and watch injustice spread like a shadow over his people.
Every conversation with the merchants, every encounter with the religious leaders,
every word he heard about the oppression of the poor and the corruption of the
powerful, increased his unease. His spirit cried out for action, for a response, for a
way for the voice of the helpless to be heard. But
How could an ordinary man cope with such a vast, unjust world?
It was then that he understood: he was not alone in his struggle. The voice he had
feltHis entire life was not an empty echo, nor an illusion of his restless mind.
There was a presence that listened, a God who not only saw injustice but invited
his children to dialogue with him. Habakkuk felt certainty seep into his heart: he
could question, he could demand, he could argue, because the relationship with
God was not only one of blind obedience, but of dialogue, of seeking, of sincere
confrontation. And this thought filled him with a courage he had never felt
before.
For weeks, Habakkuk's unease accompanied him like both shadow and light. In
every market, every temple, every dusty street, he saw signs of corruption, but
also signs of hope. He began to take notes, to remember, to listen attentively to
the murmurs of the oppressed. Every injustice he witnessed became a silent cry he
carried within him, a message he had to deliver, though he didn't yet know how.
He knew his voice alone wouldn't suffice, but he trusted that the presence guiding
him would give him the right words, the right time, and the path he should follow.One night, as the moon rose over Jerusalem, Habakkuk felt an inner shift. The
doubt that had filled his mind began to transform into something deeper: faith.
Not a blind, unquestioning faith, but a faith born of questioning itself, of constant
seeking, of the courage to confront injustice and uncertainty. He understood that
dialogue with God would not be comfortable or easy, but it would be true and
necessary. His tears mingled with the night breeze, and in that moment he knew
his life was about to be forever changed.
Habakkuk didn't know it yet, but he was on the threshold of a journey that would
take him beyond his own limitations, into conversations that would challenge his
understanding, into challenges that would test his faith, and into a purpose that
would transcend his existence. He would be a prophet who not only listened but
questioned; a man who confronted injustice while simultaneously trusting in God's
justice; a soul who would learn that doubt is not the enemy of faith, but its path to
truth.
And so, with his heart ablaze with restlessness and hope, Habakkuk gave his firstHe
stepped into the unknown. He wasn't a hero in the way men understand, nor a
leader seeking glory. He was an ordinary man, with profound questions, quiet
courage, and the certainty that, even when injustice seems to triumph, there is
always a divine whisper that listens, guides, and answers.
The sun rose over Jerusalem, bathing the stones and walls in golden light,As
Habakkuk walked, asking, listening, waiting. And the world, though still full of
injustice and pain, was about to hear the voice of a man who dared to argue with
God.
Chapter 1: Shadows over Judah
Dawn was slowly breaking over Jerusalem, painting the walls and streets a muted
gold. The first light of day illuminated the stone rooftops, the dusty courtyards,
and the markets, which were beginning to stir with a steady murmur of voices,
carts, and animals. The city was alive, but beneath its apparent vitality, a
throbbing unease lingered. Habakkuk felt it with every step he took as he walked
the streets of his neighborhood. His gaze lingered on the men's gestures: faces
hardened by fatigue, distrustful stares, hands rapidly exchanging coins, and
whispers heavy with fear.
Habakkuk wasn't an old man; he was barely twenty-five, but his soul seemed to
carry the weight of decades. His dark, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes
reflected an intensity that contrasted with the apparent calmness of his gait.As he walked toward his father's house, he recalled the conversation from the night
before, when, in front of the hearth fire, his mother had warned him about the
danger of questioning the leaders of Judah and the merchants of the temple.
"Habakkuk," she had said in a trembling but firm voice, "I know your heart seeks
justice, but in this city justice is not always found. Powerful men have their rules,
and the weak pay the price. Don't put yourself at risk."
He had listened to her in silence, respecting her advice, but inside, a fire was
burning. How could he accept injustice without raising his voice? How could he
remain silent when he saw the poor being exploited, orphans ignored, and taxes
rising while the rich reveled in their opulence? The city, with all its life and bustle,
seemed like a shadow theater where corruption and fear danced unchallenged.
Upon arriving at the house, a modest home of stone and wood, Habakkuk was
greeted by his father, Eliakim, a serene man with calloused hands and a deep
gaze, who had taught his son to respect God's law, but also to observe the world
with attentive eyes.
"Good morning, son," Eliaquim said, as he placed freshly baked bread and a
bowl of honey on the table. "Did you sleep well?"
"More or less, Father," Habakkuk replied, letting out a sigh. "There are things that
trouble me. There's too much injustice in the streets. The rich take advantage of
the poor, and no one raises their voice."
Eliaquim sighed, bowing his head forward.
—I know how you feel, son. I felt it too when I was your age. But the justice ofGod
doesn't always reveal himself in the way we expect. Sometimes we must learn
patience.
"Patience..." Habakkuk repeated in a soft but firm voice. "Yes, Father, I
understand..."
But for how long?
His father did not answer, and the conversation hung between them like a light
mist. Habakkuk knew he should learn patience, but his heart demanded action, and
that tension was a constant burden.
That same day, while walking to the market to help his mother with the shopping,
Habakkuk witnessed a scene that would mark his destiny forever.A merchant, a
burly man in an embroidered robe with an arrogant smile,He was arguing with an old man who was selling olives and wine. The merchant's
voice was harsh, and his gestures threatening; the old man, bent with age, could
barely hold his basket.
"Take those coins away!" demanded the merchant. "You've charged too much for
your olives. The rules here are clear. I set the prices."
The old man raised his head, his eyes tired but full of dignity:
"These olives are my livelihood. Every coin I earn goes to feed my grandchildren. I
can't accept less, sir."
Habakkuk watched the scene with a heavy heart. It wasn't the first time he had seen
it.Something like that, but that day something inside him ignited with a force he
had never felt before. He took a step forward and, without thinking too much,
approached the merchant:
"It's not fair!" she shouted firmly. "You can't steal an elderly man's livelihood
just because you have power and money."
The merchant looked at him, surprised, as if that young man had dared to break the
law.of the powerful. His eyes flashed with anger, and his hand closed in a
threatening gesture.
"You?" he said contemptuously. "And who do you think you are?"
—Someone who cannot remain silent while others suffer—Habakkuk replied.
—Justice does not belong only to the powerful.
The merchant, enraged, let out a shout and walked away, leaving the old man with
his merchandise.intact. The old man looked at Habakkuk and, with a weak smile,
nodded:
—Thank you, young man. Not many have the courage to speak up when everyone
looks the other way.
Habakkuk felt a mixture of relief and concern. He had acted, yes, but he knew that
not all the powerful would accept his intervention. And, deep in his heart, he
wondered if the courage that had driven him was enough to face theinjustice that
permeated the entire city.
That night, as the city slept beneath a starry sky, Habakkuk sat on his rooftop,
watching the lights twinkle in the distance. He remembered his father's words and
the old man's face in the marketplace, and he wondered how he could make
justice prevail without risking his life or the lives of his family.Doubt and faith were intertwined in his mind: doubt about whether he could change
anything, and faith inthat God saw every injustice and every act of bravery.
It was at that moment, as the night wind caressed his face, that Habakkuk felt, for
the first time clearly, the inner calling he had perceived since childhood. It was not
an audible voice, but a profound certainty that pierced his being: God was
preparing him for something great, something that went beyond human justice,
something that would require courage, patience, and dialogue with the divine.
"Lord," Habakkuk whispered, bowing his head to the starry sky, "if you are
there, guide me. Teach me how to speak and how to act. I do not want to be a
man who remains silent in the face of injustice. I want to understand your will
and do it."
Silence answered him, but Habakkuk did not interpret it as absence. He
understood.Some answers don't come as words, but as an impulse that guides
the heart toward the right action. And that impulse was stronger than any fear.
The next morning, the city awoke to its usual bustle. Habakkuk was walkingHe was
back on the streets, but something had changed in him. Every face, every
gesture, every conversation was an opportunity to observe, learn, and prepare. It
wasn't just about confronting injustice in isolation; it was about understanding it,
discerning its origin, and, above all, seeking how God would allow it to be
transformed.
That day, while helping his mother at the market, Habacuc witnessed another
scene that left him with a lump in his throat: a group of impoverished and hungry
young men from the neighborhood were arguing about how to get bread for their
families. Some of them had been sent out to beg by their parents; others had been
abandoned because of war and poverty. Their voices were desperate, full of fear,
but also of hope. Habacuc watched them and felt that the burden of injustice was
not just an abstract concept, but something tangible, manifesting itself in hunger,
vulnerability, and powerlessness.
At that moment, he understood that his mission would not be easy. It wouldn't be
enough to defend the old man or intervene in a marketplace; he had to raise his
gaze to what many didn't see: the corruption in the hearts of the leaders, the
injustice hidden behind laws and decrees, and the need to teach his people that
faith and justice could not be separated. Habakkuk was determined to walk that
path, even though the shadow of doubt would always accompany him.
As the sun set once more over Jerusalem, Habakkuk returned home, weary but
resolute. The city seemed to slumber under the illusion of peace, but he knew that
the shadow of injustice was long and lingering. Yet he also knew that the flame in
his heart was burning brightly, and that nothing could extinguish it. That flame
would lead him toto confront not only men, but also God, in a dialogue that would mark thebeginning
of a journey that would change his life and that of his people forever.
And so, as the sunset lights gilded the walls of Jerusalem, Habakkuk prepared for
what he did not yet understand: the task of being a prophet who not only listens,
but questions; a man whose faith will arise from doubt, and whose dialogue with
God will transform the pain of his people into hope.