Time has its own peculiar rhythm, doesn’t it? Not the mechanical tick of seconds on a watch, but something more organic—like the pace of tides or the turning of seasons. There’s a current that runs through our lives, and swimming against it leaves us exhausted, while moving with it carries us to places we couldn’t reach by force alone.

Haggai understood this. A minor prophet with precisely dated messages—”in the second year of Darius the king, in the sixth month, in the first day of the month” (Haggai 1:1, KJV). This specificity isn’t accidental. Haggai speaks to a moment, a particular crossroads where timing matters tremendously.

The exiles had returned from Babylon. Jerusalem lay in ruins. They built houses for themselves while the temple remained rubble. Sixteen years had passed since their return, and still God’s house remained unbuilt. The people had an explanation ready: “The time is not come, the time that the LORD’s house should be built” (Haggai 1:2, KJV).

Not yet, they said. Not the right moment. Later.

But Haggai challenges this convenient postponement: “Is it time for you, O ye, to dwell in your sealed houses, and this house lie waste?” (1:4). Their sense of timing suddenly seemed suspect—they’d found time for their own comfort but not for sacred priorities.

We delay certain reconstructions—of relationships, of purpose, of spiritual foundations—claiming the moment isn’t right. Meanwhile, career advancements, material acquisitions, and lesser priorities somehow always find their slot in our calendars.

The people’s misreading of timing had consequences: “Ye have sown much, and bring in little; ye eat, but ye have not enough; ye drink, but ye are not filled with drink; ye clothe you, but there is none warm; and he that earneth wages earneth wages to put it into a bag with holes” (1:6). Their efforts yielded diminishing returns—a peculiar emptiness amid apparent prosperity.

Perhaps they were building, just not building what mattered most at that critical juncture. The sequence was wrong.

Divine timing rarely aligns with convenience. It often arrives when resources seem scarce, when obstacles appear insurmountable. “Go up to the mountain, and bring wood, and build the house,” God instructs through Haggai (1:8). No elaborate preparations—just start with what you have, where you are.

The temple they would build wouldn’t match Solomon’s splendor. Some elders remembered the former glory and wept at the comparison. But Haggai offers this perspective: “The glory of this latter house shall be greater than of the former” (2:9). What appears modest in beginning may exceed expectations in time.

How do we recognize divine timing in our lives? Haggai offers several insights:

First, it often arrives through disruption. “Consider your ways,” Haggai repeats (1:5, 1:7), suggesting that divine timing frequently announces itself through discontentment with current patterns.

Second, it requires communal discernment. The prophet speaks not to individuals but to leaders and people together. Zerubbabel (the governor) and Joshua (the high priest) must both respond. Some seasons can only be recognized in community, through shared wisdom.

Third, it demands courage despite uncertainty. “Yet now be strong,” Haggai encourages (2:4), acknowledging that stepping into divine timing rarely comes with complete assurance.

Fourth, it promises presence more than outcome: “I am with you, saith the LORD” (1:13). The guarantee isn’t specific results but divine companionship through the process.

Perhaps most importantly, Haggai teaches that divine timing is less about waiting for perfect circumstances and more about recognizing the significance of the present moment. The now is pregnant with possibility when seen through the right eyes.

The book closes with a promise to Zerubbabel: “In that day, saith the LORD of hosts, will I take thee… and will make thee as a signet: for I have chosen thee” (2:23). Beyond the temple’s reconstruction lay this deeper reality: the building process was simultaneously constructing the builder.

This might be Haggai’s most enduring lesson about divine timing. It’s not merely about when we build external structures, but about allowing ourselves to be built in the process. The timing that matters most concerns who we’re becoming, not just what we’re achieving.

So we return to the question: Is it time? For that relationship to be mended? For that purpose to be pursued? For that spiritual foundation to be reconstructed?

The answer isn’t found in comfortable postponement or in the frantic acceleration of human timetables. It’s found in honestly considering our ways, listening for disruption, seeking wisdom in community, and recognizing that the present moment—this one, right here—might be exactly the divine appointment we’ve been waiting for.

Perhaps now is the time to build.