
Haggai was a prophet, and Haggai went to the people of his generation and was basically like:
“Hey—why is your house all done up while the temple of God is in shambles?”
See, the people had returned from exile. They were rebuilding their lives, rebuilding their homes, getting everything back together—but the temple of God was still sitting there unfinished.
And God says through Haggai:
“Consider your ways.”
In other words:
Look at your life. Look at your priorities. Something isn’t adding up.
And surprisingly, the people listened!
They responded to God, and they began rebuilding the temple.
Then about a month later, Haggai comes back.
Some of the people remembered how magnificent the former temple had been, and compared to that?
This new one looked like nothing.
But God tells them:
Be strong. Keep working. I am with you.
Because this little temple they were looking at was connected to something much bigger than themselves. God was working out His plan, and they were one small part of it.
When you read prophets like Isaiah and Malachi alongside Haggai, you start seeing this bigger picture of God’s presence, His kingdom, and what He intends to do among the nations.
Then Haggai comes back again.
This time, he starts asking the priests some questions about God’s law.
Basically:
If someone is carrying something holy and then touches some food, does that automatically make the food holy?
No.
Okay. But if someone becomes unclean by touching a dead body and then touches something else, does that become unclean?
Yes.
And Haggai applies that picture to the people and the work of their hands.
Being around something holy wasn’t enough.
And babycakes, that’s where Haggai gets uncomfortable for us.
Because it’s easy to look at Israel and talk about an unfinished temple.
It’s a little harder when Haggai’s words turn around and look at me:
“Consider your ways.”
So let me ask you something I’m asking myself too.
If somebody did a complete reconciliation of your life—your time, your money, your relationships, your habits, your calendar, what you watch, what you think about, what you pursue, what you do Monday through Saturday and not just Sunday morning—
Would your life show that God is your priority?
Or would it show that you are?
The Question I Didn’t Want to Ask Myself
This makes me think of a time when I met some new acquaintances.
We had spent some time together and were getting to know each other when they asked if I would consider watching their favorite TV show.
Now, I’m not saying I never watch secular TV. I do. But I watch a lot less than I used to, and I’ve become more conscious of what I choose to put in front of me.
When she told me the title, I politely said:
“I don’t really think that’s something I’d be into.”
And moved the conversation along.
No harm, no foul.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
A few days later, I posted something on Facebook. The next time I saw this couple, she came up to me and said:
“I’m sorry I recommended that TV show to you. I didn’t realize you were a Christian.”
My heart stopped.
My stomach knotted up.
Because all I could think was:
How had I spent time with this person and she had no idea that I followed Jesus?
What was missing?
How had I acted?
Was there anything about the way I treated people, the things I talked about, or the way I carried myself that reflected the love of Jesus?
And that hurt.
I wish I could tell you I went home that day, took an account of my entire life, changed everything that needed changing, and I’ve gotten it right ever since.
I didn’t.
I’m still struggling with certain things.
There are still moments when my actions don’t line up with what I say I believe. There are still things God puts His finger on and I have to admit:
Yeah…that needs work.
But that experience changed something in me.
It made me start asking:
If someone didn’t know I was a Christian, would spending time with me eventually make them wonder if there was something different about the way I live?
Not because I’m constantly announcing:
Hey everybody! Look at me! I’m a Christian!
Not because I want to appear more righteous than anybody else.
And definitely not because Christians are supposed to be perfect.
But because if I say Jesus has changed my life—
shouldn’t there eventually be some evidence that He has?
That’s where Haggai’s words hit me:
Consider your ways.
Take an account.
Look at what you’re building.
Look at what you’re prioritizing.
Look at what your life is communicating.
Because sometimes what I say is my priority and what my life reveals is my priority aren’t the same thing.
And that’s painful to confront.
But maybe conviction isn’t something we’re supposed to run away from.
Maybe sometimes that knot in your stomach is the moment you realize:
Something needs to change.
Not so I can look like a better Christian.
Not so everybody around me thinks I’m righteous.
But because I want the things I say, the things I do, the way I treat people, and the choices I make to increasingly align with the God I say I follow.
I’ll Get to It Later
We live in a world constantly asking:
What makes me happy?
What do I want?
What’s most convenient for me?
And I’m not saying taking care of yourself is wrong. I’m talking about priority.
Maybe I know I could spend Saturday serving somebody who needs help—but the beach sounds better.
Maybe I know I need to forgive somebody—but holding onto my anger feels better.
Maybe God’s been putting His finger on something in my relationships, finances, habits, or the way I treat people—but obedience is uncomfortable, so I keep saying:
Later.
And that’s what gets me about the people in Haggai.
They weren’t necessarily saying:
“We don’t want God.”
They were saying:
“It’s not time yet.”
I’ll get to God’s house later.
I’ll deal with that later.
I’ll obey later.
I’ll get serious about God later.
And God says:
Consider your ways.
Going to church doesn’t automatically reorder our hearts.
Owning a Bible doesn’t do it.
Listening to worship music doesn’t do it.
Looking your absolute best on Sunday morning doesn’t do it.
God isn’t calling us to pretend we’re perfect.
He’s calling us to obedience.
To examine our lives. Turn away from what’s wrong. Reorder our priorities. And trust Him enough to actually do what He says.
“I Am With You”
And here’s what I love about Haggai.
When the people respond to God, He tells them:
“I am with you.”
That’s the heart of it.
Not:
Get perfect and maybe I’ll love you.
Not:
Fix everything and then come find Me.
They turn toward God in obedience, and He reminds them of His presence.
“I am with you.”
And by the end of Haggai, God takes their eyes beyond this little construction project.
He talks about shaking the heavens and the earth and overthrowing kingdoms. Then He makes a promise concerning Zerubbabel, a descendant of David.
Suddenly, we’re looking beyond lumber and stone.
We’re looking toward God’s kingdom and the promises He is carrying forward.
They thought they were rebuilding a temple.
God was doing something much bigger than any one of them could see.
And maybe that’s something we need to hear too.
Your life isn’t just about building the nicest possible life for yourself.
God has invited you into something bigger.
So maybe Haggai leaves us with two little sentences worth carrying around this week:
Consider your ways.
And then:
I am with you.
One asks us to look honestly at what we’re building.
The other reminds us who we’re building with.
So, hunnies:
What am I building—and who am I building it for?
— Jane 💗

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