09/21/2026
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There is a verse in Haggai that I don't think gets nearly enough attention, probably because Haggai itself doesn't get nearly enough attention. Let's be fair. Most of us are not casually flipping through Haggai while drinking our coffee thinking, “Ah yes, minor prophet time.” We know Psalms. We know Romans. We know John 3:16. Haggai is somewhere back there between books we occasionally have to locate using the table of contents while pretending we absolutely knew where it was. But Haggai 2:3 asks a question that hits considerably harder than you would expect from a book you may need assistance locating. “Who is left among you who saw this house in its former glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes?”
The Israelites had returned from exile, and they were rebuilding the temple. The problem was that some of the older people remembered Solomon's temple. They remembered what had been there before Babylon destroyed it. Solomon's temple had been magnificent. Gold. Cedar. Incredible craftsmanship. This was not a modest little building project somebody knocked out over a long weekend after watching three YouTube tutorials and making seventeen trips to Home Depot. It was the temple Solomon had built at the height of Israel's kingdom. And now they were rebuilding. Except the new one didn't look like the old one. Not even close. You can almost hear the conversations. “Well, it's nice.” Which, as we all know, is what humans say when something is absolutely not as impressive as the thing they are comparing it to but they are trying to remain supportive. “Oh. Look at that. You guys have really...done something here.”
And here's what I love about God's response. He doesn't tell them they are seeing it wrong. He doesn't say, “No, no, this temple is actually every bit as impressive as Solomon's. You just need a more positive attitude.” He asks, “Is it not as nothing in your eyes?” God knows exactly what it looks like. Then He says in the next verse, “Yet now be strong... Work, for I am with you.” Keep building. Not because it looks impressive. Not because you can already see where this is going. Not because it resembles what God did before. Keep building because I am with you.
And I think we desperately need that distinction because we have a bad habit of measuring God's work by visible results. If something is getting bigger, faster, easier, more successful, more impressive, then clearly God is blessing it. If it gets smaller, slower, harder, quieter, or doesn't look anything like what we thought it was supposed to look like, we start wondering where God went. Apparently we have appointed ourselves inspectors of divine construction projects. We stand there with our little spiritual clipboard comparing today's unfinished walls with yesterday's completed temple and conclude that God must not be doing very much. Meanwhile God knows the end from the beginning.
Because a few verses later, Haggai 2:9 says, “The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former.” Excuse me? Greater than Solomon's temple? Standing there surrounded by a rebuilding project that looked painfully unimpressive compared with what had existed before, that promise must have sounded almost impossible. If glory meant gold, size, wealth, craftsmanship, and outward magnificence, they had already seen the winner. Solomon's temple had them beat. But that's exactly where we can miss what God was doing if we keep staring at the building. The story of the temple wasn't ultimately about how much gold could be attached to the walls. The temple was about God dwelling with His people. And God was moving the story toward something infinitely greater than another impressive building.
Centuries would pass. Empires would rise and fall. That temple would be expanded and changed, and eventually a man from Nazareth would walk through its courts. Except He wasn't merely another worshiper coming to meet with God there. He was God with us. The One the temple had always pointed toward was standing inside it. The presence of God was no longer represented only by a building, sacrifices, priests, and sacred rooms. Jesus Christ had come. John would describe Him as the Word who became flesh and “dwelt among us.” God had pitched His tent among His people. Suddenly Haggai's promise starts looking considerably bigger than a construction project.
Solomon's temple had gold. This temple would receive the Son of God. Solomon's temple displayed extraordinary human craftsmanship devoted to God. Into the courts of this later temple would walk the One through whom all things were made. People were looking at stonework and remembering what used to be. God was moving history toward Christ. They were comparing one temple with another while God was preparing to do something that made the comparison itself seem almost ridiculously small. Suddenly our definition of “glory” needs some adjustment.
That's the part I keep coming back to. The people were looking backward and saying, “But look what we used to have.” God was looking forward. They could see what had been lost. God could see what was coming. They saw a smaller temple. God saw a bigger story. And there are seasons when I think we do exactly the same thing. We remember when something was better. When life made more sense. When the church was fuller. When the family was different. When the job was easier. When our plans were working. When prayers seemed to be answered differently. When we felt stronger. We compare what is standing in front of us with what used to stand behind us and decide that because the present looks smaller, God must be doing less.
But Haggai gives us an uncomfortable possibility. Maybe what looks smaller isn't smaller at all. Maybe you're simply standing too early in the story to understand what you're looking at. And maybe God isn't asking you to recreate exactly what He did before. Maybe He's asking you to be faithful with what He has put in front of you now. “Be strong.” “Work.” “For I am with you.” Notice what He doesn't say. “Be strong because this is going to look impressive by Thursday.” “Work because everyone will understand what I'm doing.” “Keep going because you'll immediately see measurable results and receive a convenient explanation for everything that confused you.” Nope. For I am with you. That's the reason. Sometimes God's presence is the only explanation He gives us while the walls are still going up.
So if you're standing in the middle of something right now thinking, “This is not what I thought it would look like,” Haggai has something to say to you. Don't mistake different for abandoned. Don't mistake unimpressive for insignificant. Don't mistake unfinished for failed. And definitely don't measure what God is doing solely by comparing it with what God did before. The people in Haggai could see a temple that didn't measure up to their memories. God could see Jesus walking through its courts. They weren't wrong about what they could see. They were wrong to assume that what they could see was all there was. And that might be one of the hardest lessons in Scripture to actually live: You do not have to understand what God is building in order to faithfully lay the next stone.
