From Ashes to Hope

How God Turns Broken Hopes Into a Deeper Happiness in Him

Scripture Reference: – Habakkuk 2:14 – Habakkuk 3:17–19

“The earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

"Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.”

Introduction: When Dreams Lie in Ruins

Many of us have stood in the middle of an “empty room” where our dreams once lived. What once seemed certain — a future filled with family, freedom, health, or opportunity — has crumbled into silence. What we had hoped for, planned for, or even prayed for has fallen apart. Hopes can shatter like glass on the floor — and every shard tempts us to pick it up, stare at it again, and mourn what might have been. But to cling too tightly to broken dreams only leaves us bleeding, trapped in regret over a life we cannot glue back together.

The words you’ve just read are not theory to me; they are the story of my own life. In March of 2014, everything I thought was secure was stripped away in a single moment. Nearing the end of an eight-mile hike with my wife — the parking lot in sight, laughter on our lips, our bodies tired but satisfied — my life changed in an instant. Without warning, I suffered a brain-stem and spinal cord stroke. Six long months later, after tests and uncertainty, I was given a diagnosis: Central Pain Syndrome, a rare, incurable condition that causes relentless nerve pain throughout the body. In the space of seconds, the dreams I had of health, activity, and normal life collapsed around me.

I know what it means to stand among ruins. The questions are sharp and unrelenting: Why, Lord? Why me? Why now? Maybe you’ve asked those same questions. Maybe your prison cell is the place where your dreams lie buried. Maybe your body, wracked with pain, feels like a cage. Maybe broken relationships, betrayal, or the weight of past mistakes press down on you until you feel crushed beyond hope.

If that’s where you are, you are not alone. The Bible is not a book written for the comfortable; it is a book for sufferers, for sinners, for the brokenhearted. It is filled with men and women who stood in the ruins of their own shattered hopes — and yet discovered a joy that could not be taken away. One of them was the prophet Habakkuk. His story shows us how to move from ruins to rejoicing — not by reclaiming the life we lost, but by finding something greater: unshakable happiness in God Himself.

It seems like a lifetime from that day where God, in his sovereignty and providence tailor-made an affliction for me that ultimately has been for my good and for God’s glory.

I’ve had to accept the fact that I had a condition to which there was no treatment or cure. After 12 long years of crying out to God, I’ve learned to understand that there truly is hope that comes from the ashes of life. It was hope that could only come from our Savior and Lord that taught me that not only could I survive, but I could find the greatest rest and hope in the sufficiency of God’s unfathomable grace.

Some reading this devotional are living in that very reality right now. Perhaps your family fell apart, and the home you longed to return to is no longer waiting for you. Perhaps you carry the deep regret of choices that landed you in prison, and the dream of “starting over” seems impossible. Perhaps your body is wracked with pain, and the dream of health feels gone forever. Maybe betrayal, loneliness, or disappointment have left you crushed and gasping for meaning.

If that’s where you are, take heart: you are not alone. The Bible is not a book of fairy tales about people whose lives always worked out perfectly. It is full of men and women who stood in the ruins of shattered hopes — yet there, in the ashes, they found God to be enough. Joseph was betrayed and thrown into a dungeon, yet God was with him.

Job sat scraping his sores in the dust, yet declared, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him” (Job 13:15). David wept until he had no strength left, yet strengthened himself in the Lord. Paul lost everything — reputation, freedom, even comfort — yet sang hymns at midnight in a prison cell.

And then there is Habakkuk. His nation was collapsing, his world was falling apart, and every earthly reason to rejoice had been stripped away. Yet he discovered a deeper joy — not in the restoration of what he had lost, but in the presence of the God who never changes. His story teaches us how to move from ruins to rejoicing — not by clinging to our old dreams, but by discovering something greater: unshakable happiness in God Himself.

Faith at the Breaking Point

About a century before Habakkuk’s ministry, God allowed the northern tribes of Israel to be dragged away by Assyria because of their sin. Judah remained, but it too was corrupt, its leaders full of injustice, and the law of God felt powerless (Habakkuk 1:4). Habakkuk not only carried personal disappointment, but national despair.

When he cried out to God, he expected help and healing. Instead, God answered in a way that crushed him: He was going to raise up the Babylonians — a cruel and wicked nation — to discipline Judah (Habakkuk 1:5–7). To Habakkuk, it felt like God was rewarding evil and punishing His people. His dreams for Judah’s future were not just broken, but ground into dust.

Have you ever felt that way? You prayed for relief but got more hardship. You asked God for healing but only felt more pain. You hoped for reconciliation, but the relationship only grew colder. In those moments, like Habakkuk, we are tempted to put God “on trial.” We cry out: “Lord, how can You allow this? Why aren’t You doing what I hoped?”

Yet God’s answer was not silence. He reminded Habakkuk: “The righteous shall live by faith… I still sit in My holy temple… let all the earth be silent before Me” (Habakkuk 2:4, 20). In other words: “I am still sovereign. My justice will prevail. Trust Me.”

When all our dreams are crushed, faith clings to the God who cannot fail. This is the turning point. Even when nothing makes sense, when all you have left is God and His word, you still have enough.

Unshakable Joy

Habakkuk’s closing prayer is one of the most breathtaking statements in Scripture:

"...yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.” (Habakkuk 3:17–18)

The circumstances had not changed. The Babylonians were still coming. Judah’s future still looked bleak. Habakkuk’s body trembled with fear (3:16). Yet… he rejoiced.

That little word “yet” is the hinge of faith. It flips despair into hope. It transforms grief into worship. It says: “Even if everything falls apart, I still have God — and He is enough.”

This is not denial. Habakkuk wasn’t pretending things were fine. His joy was not based on circumstances, but on God Himself. And that kind of joy is indomitable — nothing can conquer it.

What about you? Can you say, “Though I have lost my job… though my body hurts every day… though my family is broken… though I sit behind prison walls… yet I will rejoice in God”? This is one of the deepest acts of worship a believer can ever offer.

The God Who Doesn’t Fail

Habakkuk discovered what Asaph declared in Psalm 73:28 — “The nearness of God is my good.”

When dreams fall apart, we learn that true joy is not in God’s gifts but in God Himself. If our happiness depends only on things going well, it will always be fragile. But when our happiness is rooted in the Giver, our joy becomes shatterproof.

Think about it:

• If you lose your health, but not God, you still have all you need.

• If you lose your freedom, but not God, you still have all you need.

• If you lose every earthly possession, but not God, you still have all you need.

  
  

When Habakkuk chose joy in God, he was declaring: “Take away everything else, but You cannot take away my Lord.” That’s why Paul, sitting in prison centuries later, could say: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice”(Philippians 4:4).

Nothing magnifies God more than joy in Him when everything else is gone.

The Best Is Yet to Come

Habakkuk also looked forward. His joy wasn’t just for the present — it was anchored in God’s promise of the future. He declared that God would make his feet like a deer’s, enabling him to climb to high places (3:19). In other words, he trusted that God would lift him out of the valley and give him strength to endure.

Even more, God had promised: “The earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (2:14). Habakkuk didn’t know how, but he knew the ending: God wins.

And friend, you and I know even more than Habakkuk did. We know the Lion of Judah has come. We know Christ has conquered sin, death, and the grave. We know He is making all things new. One day every tear will be wiped away, and every broken dream will be restored in ways beyond our imagination.

That’s why Paul could write in Romans 8:18: “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Our lives aren’t a daily tale,and a happy ending really is guaranteed. And that’s why our joy can endure, even in the ruins.

Application for Prisoners

This message carries special weight for those in prison. For many behind bars, shattered dreams are not a metaphor — they are your daily reality. You dreamed of a family, but you’re separated from them. You dreamed of a career, but now you wear a number. You dreamed of freedom, but you live behind concrete walls.

Habakkuk speaks into your life. His nation was about to be destroyed, and his personal dreams would never come true. Yet he found joy — not in freedom, not in prosperity, not in circumstances, but in God.

Brother or sister, that same joy is available to you right now in prison. Your body may be locked up, but your spirit can soar in worship. Your record may be stained before men, but your soul can be spotless before God through Christ. The world may call you a failure, but in Christ you are more than a conqueror.

Prison cannot chain God’s promises. Concrete walls cannot silence His presence. Locked doors cannot keep out His love. If Habakkuk could rejoice while facing national destruction, you can rejoice while facing prison life — because God is with you, God is for you, and God will never leave you.

Final Thought

When life collapses, we often assume joy is impossible until our circumstances improve. We say to ourselves, “If only I were free… if only my health returned… if only my family were restored… if only I could undo my past mistake… THEN I would have joy.” But Habakkuk teaches us a radically different lesson: joy is not found in the absence of pain but in the presence of God.

At the beginning of his prophecy, Habakkuk was a man in turmoil. His prayers felt unanswered, his nation was falling apart, and God’s plan seemed unbearable. His book opens with confusion, complaint, and a trembling prophet who dared to question God.

That may sound familiar to many of us. How often do our prayers begin with confusion, frustration, or even anger? How often do we wrestle with the hard questions: “God, why did You let this happen? Why haven’t You stepped in? Why does it feel like You’re silent?”

Yet by the end of his short book, Habakkuk undergoes a remarkable transformation. The circumstances did not change — the Babylonians were still coming, judgment was still on the horizon, and pain was still guaranteed. But Habakkuk himself changed. His heart moved from questioning to trusting, from despair to hope, from complaint to worship.

He began with “How long, O Lord?” (1:2) and ended with “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord” (3:18). This is the journey of faith: not the removal of suffering, but the rediscovery of God in the midst of it.

This same journey awaits us. We too must learn that faith does not mean God will always fix our circumstances, but that He will always be faithful in them. Faith does not guarantee the restoration of broken dreams, but it guarantees the presence of a God who never leaves us. True faith does not say, “God, I will rejoice when things go my way.” True faith says, “God, I will rejoice because You are my way, my truth, and my life — even if everything else is taken from me.”

And here is the great secret: when you lose everything but still have God, you realize you have lost nothing essential. Habakkuk found this truth. Job discovered it when, after losing family, wealth, and health, he declared, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in Him” (Job 13:15). Paul learned it in prison when he wrote, “Rejoice in the Lord always”(Philippians 4:4). Countless saints throughout history have proven it with their lives: when Christ is your treasure, no loss can rob you of joy.

For those behind prison walls, this truth may cut especially deep. Many of your dreams lie in ruins. You may feel like your best years are wasted, your reputation is gone, your relationships are broken beyond repair. But brother, sister — God is not done with you. Even in the ruins, He is present. Even in the ruins, He is working. Even in the ruins, He is enough. Prison bars may limit your body, but they cannot limit the Spirit of God. You may have lost much, but you have not lost HIM — and He is your joy.

This is not to minimize your pain. Habakkuk’s bones trembled (3:16). Jesus Himself wept at Lazarus’s tomb (John 11:35). God does not call you to ignore your suffering. But He does invite you to trust Him in the middle of it. To say, with Habakkuk, “Though… yet I will rejoice.” That is not a shallow smile pasted over sorrow — it is a defiant declaration of faith that says: “My circumstances do not define me. My God does.”

And here’s the hope that carries us forward: the ruins will not last forever. Habakkuk looked ahead to the day when “the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (2:14). He clung to the happy ending he could not yet see. And you and I, standing on the other side of the cross and resurrection, know even more.

We know Christ has already won the decisive victory. We know He is making all things new. We know that one day every tear will be wiped away, every prison door will swing open, and every broken dream will be restored in the presence of our King.

So here is the call of this devotional: move from ruins to rejoicing. Not by denying your pain, not by pretending the ruins don’t exist, but by finding your joy in the God who is greater than your ruins. Anchor your soul in Christ, who died for you, rose for you, and promises never to leave you. Let the “yet” of Habakkuk become your own.

Friend, one day you will look back on your life — with all its shattered dreams and broken pieces — and you will see how God was weaving them into a story more beautiful than anything you could have imagined. The ruins will fade. The rejoicing will last forever. Until then, rejoice in Him. He is enough.

Reflection Questions

1. When have you felt like your dreams were shattered? How did you respond to God?

2. What does the word “yet” in Habakkuk 3:18 mean to you personally?

3. How can you learn to rejoice in God Himself, even when His gifts are gone?

4. Which of your current struggles can you place into Habakkuk’s “Though… yet I will” pattern?

5. How does the promise of God’s future victory (Habakkuk 2:14, Romans 8:18) give you strength today?

6. For those in prison: How can Habakkuk’s joy become your daily reality behind bars?

7. How can you encourage others who are living in the ruins of broken dreams?

Closing Prayer

Father, we come before You with broken hearts and shattered dreams. Many of us feel the weight of ruins in our lives — losses we cannot repair, pain we cannot escape, and regrets we cannot undo.

But today we choose, like Habakkuk, to say “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord.”

Lord, help us to find joy in You, not in circumstances. Teach us that Your nearness is our greatest good. Lift our eyes from the ruins to Your unshakable promises.

Give us the strength to endure, and the hope to believe that You are making all things new.

We especially pray for our brothers and sisters in prison. Meet them in their cells with Your presence.

Remind them that though the world may chain their bodies, nothing can chain Your Spirit.

Let their joy in You be a light in the darkness, a testimony that Christ is greater than every loss.

Father, we long for the day when the ruins will be gone forever, and only rejoicing will remain. Until then, give us grace to walk by faith, to sing in sorrow, and to cling to You with all our hearts.

In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

From: Fight the Good Fight of Faith / Life Journal: by Gregg Harris

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