Inside the dusty scrolls of Haggai, a minor prophet with a major message speaks to people standing amid ruins, wondering what to build first. The Jews had returned from exile in Babylon, finding Jerusalem in shambles. They quickly built homes for themselves while the temple—their spiritual center—remained a pile of stones.

“Is it time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?” Haggai asks in chapter 1, verse 4. The question cuts through centuries straight to our modern condition.

We’re experts at building certain parts of our lives. Career advancement. Financial security. Social connections. The external structures that others can see and admire. Meanwhile, the sacred spaces within us—our spiritual foundations, our ethical frameworks, our deeper purposes—often remain unfinished business.

Haggai points out that their prosperity was failing despite their nice houses: “You have sown much, and harvested little. You eat, but you never have enough; you drink, but you never have your fill” (1:6). Sound familiar? The ancient diagnosis for modern emptiness.

The prophet’s message wasn’t “stop building houses.” It was about priorities. About recognizing divine timing. The people had decided God’s house could wait while they established themselves first. But Haggai suggested their struggles came precisely from this inverted priority.

When we build external success without internal substance, we create beautiful frames around empty canvases.

The second chapter of Haggai offers an interesting twist. Some elders remembered Solomon’s magnificent temple and felt discouraged by their modest rebuilding efforts. To this, Haggai responds: “The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former” (2:9). What looks small in the beginning may eventually surpass what came before.

Many of life’s most significant projects—raising children, developing wisdom, building a community—don’t show their full value immediately. The initial stages often look unimpressive. Rebuilding spiritual foundations rarely makes for exciting Instagram posts.

Haggai reminds us there’s a sequence to construction that matters. When we align our building projects with a larger purpose, even the seemingly ordinary work—laying one stone upon another—becomes sacred.

This doesn’t mean we should postpone practical necessities. Rather, it suggests that underneath our visible accomplishments, we need foundations that can support something lasting. Haggai would likely look at our bustling lives and ask: What temple within you remains unbuilt while you decorate your outer rooms?

The timing question matters too. Sometimes we rush to build when the ground isn’t prepared. Sometimes we procrastinate when the moment for action has clearly arrived. Discerning divine timing requires both patience and courage—knowing when to wait and when to act.

Perhaps the most relevant aspect of Haggai for today is his call to examine our investments: “Consider your ways” (1:5). Where are we spending our energy? What are we constructing with our limited time? Are we building what matters most?

The text closes with an affirmation to Zerubbabel, the governor leading the rebuilding: “I will make you like a signet ring, for I have chosen you” (2:23). Beyond the practical work of reconstruction lies this assurance: the builder becomes something valuable through the process of building what matters.

Maybe that’s the point. When we build what needs building—when the time is right—we aren’t just creating external structures. We’re being formed ourselves into something of lasting worth.