The Vocabulary of Victory: Saying What Hope Would Say

More than what you do, what do you say when everything is falling apart?

Yesterday, my pastor, Overseer Mack of The L.I.V.E. Church, preached on Habakkuk 3:16-19.

16 I heard and my heart pounded,
    my lips quivered at the sound;
decay crept into my bones,
    and my legs trembled.
Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity
    to come on the nation invading us.

17  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,

18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

19 The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    he enables me to tread on the heights.

It was one of those sermons that doesn't just meet you where you are. It gives (literal) language that you didn't know you needed.

“The Vocabulary of Victory” as he named it is the decision to understand your circumstances but choose to praise, honor, and trust the Lord anyhow with your words. This wisdom comes alive in verse 18 “yet I will rejoice.”

And instantly, as a writer, that phrase stuck with me.

Because I believe words, our vocabulary, hold weight. They shape our world. They reveal what we believe. And sometimes, they’re the only thing we have when circumstances make no sense.

The Vision and the Wait

Most people know Habakkuk for chapter 2: “Write the vision and make it plain...” It’s the scripture we quote when we’re dreaming. Planning. Declaring. But chapter 3 is when the real faith you need to see a vision unfold kicks in.

In chapter 2, God tells Habakkuk to write down the promise. In chapter 3, Habakkuk shows us how to live while waiting for it to manifest, even while it looks bleak. We all face these chapter 3 seasons.

Growing up in church, I used to roll my eyes a little when preachers said, “Everybody’s going through something.” It sounded too broad. Too dramatic. Unreal. Surely, not everybody. Not all the time.

But now I’m older. My friends are older. And I’ve lived long enough to know they were right.

Everybody is going through something. A diagnosis. A disappointment. A delay. A loss they don’t talk about out loud. A dream that’s slower than expected. A child they’re worried about. A mind they can’t seem to settle. A heart still healing.

My timeline is full of beauty and burnout all at once.

This is why our vocabulary matters so deeply. The words we choose when facing emptiness reveal what we truly believe about God's faithfulness.

Habakkuk isn’t standing in the promise God just told him to write out—he’s sitting in lack.

• The fig tree isn’t blooming.

• The vines have no grapes.

• The fields are empty.

• The stalls are bare.

And yet, he says: “Yet, I will rejoice in the Lord; I will be joyful in God my Savior.” (Habakkuk 3:18)

That yet is everything. It’s not denial. It’s not pretending things aren’t hard.
It’s a decision. A declaration. A vocabulary rooted in truth that goes deeper than the moment.

Scriptures That Speak in the Middle

When Pastor Mack preached that message, a few scriptures came flooding to mind, a few others I had to search for to remember, but they are:

• Job 13:15 – “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”
  That’s trust even in pain.

• 2 Corinthians 4:8–9 – “We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed..”
  That’s pressure without collapse.

• Psalm 42:11 – “Why, my soul, are you downcast?... I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.”
  That’s worship when you don’t feel like it.

• Lamentations 3:21–23 – “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope. Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
  That’s remembering who God is when all else fails.

• Romans 5:3–5 – “We glory in tribulations... knowing that suffering produces perseverance... and hope does not put us to shame.”
  That’s endurance with an eternal perspective.

These aren’t just verses for comfort. They’re a blueprint for how to speak while you wait. While you suffer. While what you believe hasn’t shown up yet.

The Power of Yet and Not

Each verse carries two powerful little words that reshape our entire perspective:

Yet - the conjunction of contrast that pivots from circumstance to conviction:

• Yet will I trust Him

• Yet praise Him

• Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope

Not - the boundary that limits the power of our problems:

• Not crushed.

• Not in despair.

• Not forsaken.

• Not destroyed.

• Not consumed.

• Not put to shame.

That might sound like semantics, but for our faith, it’s everything.

Because our God doesn’t always stop the storm, but He anchors us through it. He doesn’t promise we won’t feel it but He promises we won’t fall apart. We are not what the situation says we are. We are not finished just because things look bad.

This Is Why OMI Exists

To give language to your “yet.”

To remind you that hope still lives here—even when the field is empty and the tree hasn’t bloomed.

We don’t sell clothes. We wear reminders.

And this is one:
Victory isn’t always a change in your situation.
Sometimes, it’s a choice.

So Today…

I’m choosing the vocabulary of victory.

To keep believing. To keep praising and holding on to hope even when the fig tree is bare.

I’m choosing to say:

• Yet I will rejoice.

• Still, I trust You.

• Hope does not put me to shame.

• Great is Your faithfulness.

Not because anything has changed, not because the promise has arrived.

But now.

Because victory is not an outcome.

It’s a position.

If you're reading this in a hard season, I hope you remember—
The vision still speaks (Habakkuk 2:2). And your words in the waiting matter just as much as the promise itself.

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note on lowercase styling:

you may notice that “God” and “Jesus” appear in lowercase throughout the site. this isn’t a sign of irreverence—it’s simply a design default. the lowercase aesthetic reflects the tone and visual style of the omi brand, not the weight of the One being referenced. trust—His name is still above every name, and that’s honored here. (philippians 2:9)

Finding Hope When it’s Hard to hope

Hope isn't just a nice feeling, it's essential survival equipment. And I don't know about you, but I've had seasons where hope felt as scarce as rain in a drought.

Here's what I've discovered: Biblical hope isn't about positive thinking or blind optimism. It's about holding onto truth when your feelings are screaming something else entirely.

These five principles have been my lifeline. Maybe they'll become yours too.

1. Remember Who God Is, Not Just What He’s done

In our darkest moments, we often focus on what he isn't doing, he’s not healing, not intervening, not making things better. But hope springs from who God is, not just what He does.

He is faithful even when circumstances aren't. He is present even when He feels distant. He is working even when nothing seems to be changing.

When I fix my eyes on His character rather than my circumstances, hope finds room to breathe again, trust again and try again.

2. Community Carries Hope When You Can't

I used to think strength meant handling everything alone. I was wrong. i still have to remind myself how wrong i was when I fall back into wanting to handle everything alone even now.

There's a beautiful design to how hope operates within community. When your own hope reservoir runs dry, someone else's can sustain you. Then, when they're empty, you can return the favor.

The people who've seen me through my hardest seasons didn't necessarily offer solutions—they simply refused to let me walk alone. That shared burden created space for hope to reenter.

Who's walking alongside you? Who needs you to carry hope for them right now?

3. Small Faithfulness Produces Lasting Hope

Hope isn't always about dramatic breakthroughs. Sometimes it's about the quiet determination to remain faithful in small ways.

Praying when you don't feel like it. Reading scripture when it feels dry. being faithful to things that aren’t being faithful to you. staying committed when things look like they might fall apart. Showing up. Doing the next right thing, even when you can't see ten steps ahead.

These small acts of faithfulness are like planting seeds that will eventually grow into something beautiful—that’s not a guess, it’s a promise.

4. Lamenting Is Part of Hoping

We've lost the language of lament in our highlight-reel culture. But lament isn't the opposite of hope, it's a crucial part of it.

The Psalms show us that honest grief expressed to God doesn't diminish hope; it creates room for authentic hope and trust to grow. Pretending everything's fine when it's not isn't faith—it's denial.

So go ahead: tell God exactly how you feel. He can handle your questions, your anger, your disappointment. Real hope has nothing to fear from honesty.

5. Hope Is a Practice, Not Just a Feeling

Hope isn't something we passively wait to feel—it's something we actively practice.

We practice hope when we intentionally recall God's faithfulness in the past. We practice hope when we choose gratitude even in difficult circumstances. We practice hope when we speak truth to ourselves instead of listening to our fears.

Like any practice, it gets stronger with repetition. The more we exercise hope, the more resilient it becomes.

Hope isn't the absence of struggle; it's the presence of strength in the midst of it. And that strength comes not from pretending everything's fine, but from anchoring ourselves to something—Someone—who transcends our circumstances.

So whatever season you're in right now, remember: hope is here. Hope is available. And more importantly, hope is holding onto you, even when your grip feels weak.

What principles help you maintain hope during difficult seasons? I'd love to hear from you

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note on lowercase styling:

you may notice that “God” and “Jesus” appear in lowercase throughout the site. this isn’t a sign of irreverence—it’s simply a design default. the lowercase aesthetic reflects the tone and visual style of the omi brand, not the weight of the One being referenced. trust—His name is still above every name, and that’s honored here. (philippians 2:9)