The Word Of The Lord Came To The Prophet Haggai
Sermon
Coming Home
Advent/Christmas Sermons From The Book Of Haggai
There is something about seeing a zero creep up on the odometer, whether it's in your car, the world, or your life, that makes you take notice. Yes, it's just a mathematical accident. The zero wasn't even invented until around a thousand years ago, and we just happen to use base ten, which makes numbers like 10, 100, and 1,000 seem significant,
Still, the zero is a handy marker. There is nothing like watching 100,000 roll over on a car's odometer. Each birthday that ended in 0 (10, 20, 30, and 40) has seemed significant to me. And of course, the end of a decade always seems like a good time to take stock of the most recent chunk of history.
Sometimes we jump the gun. I remember Life magazine published a retrospective of the '80s with about four months to go in 1989. It seemed like a safe thing to do. The big events had already occurred, and surely nothing that significant could happen in the remaining days.
Except, of course, that the waning hours of the decade saw the fall of communism in Eastern Europe, the collapse of the Iron Curtain and the Berlin Wall, and the planting of seeds that led to the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Fairly significant stuff, I'd say.
As a matter of fact, some people called it the end of history. No longer would the world be divided into two ideological camps, east and west, free world and communist. The day of jubilee had arrived! It was a time of rejoicing.
And there was every reason to rejoice, because to a great extent the danger of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction) had passed. There was talk that a lot of the money spent on armaments would be turned into a peace dividend, as swords were bent into plowshares. We'd all be singing in the sunshine.
But the world didn't stop. Nation still took up sword against nation. The Armenians and the Azerbaijanis took up arms against each other. Iraq swallowed Kuwait and was made to spit it out. North Korea took everyone to the brink.
India and Pakistan played nuclear chicken. And we haven't even brought up the mess in the former Yugoslavia!
History didn't stop, but it changed. There were still pressing demands. And a lot of important things we hoped we'd take care of had to be put on hold. How long, we wondered, would we have to wait until we could take care of the widows and orphans?
The book of Haggai was written after the end of history as well. God's people had been in exile for as long a time as the Communist empire lasted -- about the length of a human life. As a matter of fact, that's one of the delicious ironies of the book of Daniel. The young Daniel introduced in the first chapter outlives the Babylonian empire which carried him off.
The exile began in bitterness, expressed best in Psalm 137:
By the rivers of Babylon -- there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"
How could we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.
Conversely, there was overwhelming joy when the exiles returned! As was written in Psalm 126:
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."
The LORD has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.
Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
There were big plans for the new Israel. It wasn't going to be quite the same, but after waiting three generations to return, the survivors could hardly wait to get started.
Only they couldn't get started. Here's the chronology. The Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed around the year 586 B.C. The Babylonian Empire, like others before it, deported conquered peoples, moving them across the map like chess pieces. This was supposed to lead to a loss of identity. Instead, with God's help, Israel's sense of destiny was strengthened. God's people gained a stronger self-identification.
In 539 Cyrus the Persian conquered Babylon, and a year later the first exiles returned. His Persian Empire attempted something rather grand. It returned nations to their lands, and encouraged the practice of their local religion. The idea was that these regions, autonomous in some things while recognizing the overarching authority of the Emperor, would be loyal and cooperative.
The Eber Nahara, the larger province of Beyond the River, contained the subprovince of Yehud, the Aramaic word for Judah. This is where the Temple would be rebuilt. It was supposed to be the start of a new golden age. God's people would meet in the restored Temple to glorify his name.
Nothing much came of the attempt to rebuild the Temple. Oh, it began. So we read in Ezra's history:
When the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the LORD, the priests in their vestments were stationed to praise the LORD with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons of Asaph, with cymbals, according to the directions of King David of Israel; and they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the LORD, "For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever toward Israel." And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the LORD, because the foundation of the house of the LORD was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy...." -- Ezra 3:10-12
But there were problems. The returnees thought they were hot stuff, while those that had remained behind, the landless and impoverished, thought they were the true remnant. These latter came to be known as the Samaritans. You would think the two sundered branches of the family would greet each other with joy, but there's nothing like cousins for feuding. A lot of energy was expended in the struggle. A few bribes were made by Judah's enemies. Suddenly there were difficulties with the building permits.
The ones called "the people of the land," those who had remained behind during the exile, filled the people of Judea with fright. These distractions may have fueled the discouragment of the people, but underneath it all may have been a lack of will to complete the project from the beginning.
The temple project ran out of steam. This sounds surprising, but not when you consider it.
I remember when my wife and I traveled to Scotland in 1987. A cabby drove us up a hill overlooking Edinburgh to show us a spot called by two different names: The Scots National Monument, and the Scottish National Shame.
What the traveler finds are three sides of a monument patterned after the Parthenon of ancient Athens. It was intended to house a museum celebrating the Scots' national spirit. The pillars are there, but the money ran out, and no one would take responsibility for the project. The longer it languished, the more difficult it was to resume the project. No one would take responsibility. Soon it became a local joke. The pillars are still there, but the temple to the Scottish spirit remains unfinished.
I find the longer you put off an important job, the harder it is to resume it later. A few years ago our fellowship decided to order signs that directed people to our country church. The task itself was not a big one, but there were always more pressing day-to-day duties for the trustees to take care of: leaky roofs, flooded basements, broken fences, stubborn boilers. The signs were finally made after some months, and then languished while others looked into the local codes regarding the placement of signs. The actual labor involved was minimal, but it took over three years for the signs to make their appearance.
And then there was the parsonage basement. One year I worked out a deal where I would forego a raise for a year if the church would build a new bedroom in the basement. Everyone was in favor of it. As the months slipped by, everyone in the church agreed that the room should be built, would be built; but nothing was done.
Others might have worried, but I knew that at some point a prophet would appear. The Lord would commission someone, speaking to them in their heart, to get the job done. After all, it wasn't a big job. It wasn't going to take years. Just a short period of leadership was needed for the task to be accomplished.
Enter the newly elected chair of trustees. He hadn't actually built a room before, but he'd helped here and there, worked at a lumber yard, and was handy with a hammer. No sweat. It was already mid-October, but he decided he'd marshal the troops and get that room done.
All it took was a leader. The materials and workers were there, just waiting. And it wasn't a long job either. A few Saturdays, a handful of weeknights, spread over the course of a few weeks, and it was done. New bedroom.
That's what Haggai was. A prophet in season.
Meanwhile, the outside world continued.
In the year 522 the emperor Darius ascended to the throne of the Persian empire.
Over the next two years he consolidated his empire, appointed Zerubbabel governor of Judea, and gave permission for work to start again on the Temple.
Enter the prophet Haggai. On August 29 of 520 Haggai first spoke to the people. His last recorded utterance is December 18 of that same year. A bare sixteen weeks of prophetic activity, but it was enough to get the job done. The Temple was begun. It got finished. These scant few verses, the second shortest book in the Old Testament, contain the sum and total of the prophecies of Haggai. It's not much, but a pebble gets an avalanche started.
And it doesn't hurt if the prophet gets involved. The scripture from Ezra notes that "with them were the prophets of God, helping them."
This may mean that Haggai picked up a few rocks himself. It never hurts for the leader to work the hardest.
Most of all, he got the people to work.
Work is ownership. Work is fellowship. When the church hires someone to build the new Christian Education wing, it may get built better, but when church members build it themselves, they become committed to the church and each other.
It's called "sweat equity." The Habitat for Humanity program understands that. Habitat uses volunteer labor to build affordable homes for the poor. No matter how unskilled, the new owners are expected to work on the home as well.
It has helped ensure a near 100 percent success rate when it comes to meeting the mortgage.
So what is the significance of this prophet and his work? Some have complained that Haggai's vision was limited to the Temple, to a building. Considering the fact that Jesus was singularly unimpressed by this building some centuries later when his disciples oohed and aahed, and went so far as to tell his listeners that a better temple would be destroyed and rebuilt in three days, we may wonder what relevance these words have for us.
But Haggai's significance extends far beyond the building he encouraged. His work was essential. He helped to redefine the kingdom of God.
Although the people returned to the land, it was not as members of an autonomous nation, but as a province among provinces. They were no longer ruled by a king, but by a governor.
Zerubbabel was that governor.
Appointed by Darius, he was the grandson of a king, but no king himself. Though he was of the lineage of King David, his name meant "seed of Babylon." Born in a foreign land, he was probably Babylonian in culture and upbringing, although he no doubt identified with his people. Though he had responsibility over the province, he had no real authority. Darius had the authority.
Haggai came to remind Zerubbabel and the people that Darius might have the appearance of authority, but "the word of the LORD" takes precedence. His book reminds us that God is ruler over the nations. God is looking ahead to a different kind of kingdom, a kingdom that will last forever. It will be ruled by a son of David, but one who is eternal.
Haggai might have been talking about a temple, but he was looking beyond to a much more glorious structure -- the manger of Bethlehem. How much of this Haggai clearly saw is debatable, but the fact remains he was looking ahead to the king of glory, and the first step, as far as he could tell, was to get up and do something. No more excuses. Just do something. Take a large task and break it down into smaller tasks. Get started.
This is something that is easy to forget. The job ahead can seem so complicated, the work of the kingdom so daunting, that we are tempted to give up.
Which of us, for example, can solve world hunger? On the other hand, most of us can spend a few hours in a soup kitchen or gathering groceries for the local food pantry. Most of us can't rescue a nation, but we can write a check that fits our budget to send to our denominational hunger programs.
For sixteen years the people of Israel had done very little towards rebuilding the kingdom. Along came a prophet who spoke for barely sixteen weeks. He made a permanent mark.
Emotionally it is easier to commit for the short term. Many times we think a commitment to the church has to be lifelong. If we're a Sunday school teacher once, we serve for life. Board chair once, board chair for eternity. Sometimes the greatest service we can do for the church is to fill in at the right moment. And the short-term ministry can be terrifically significant.
Haggai is a prophet for the moment, like us. He's a Not Ready for Prime Time Prophet. There's none of the heady poetry of other prophetic books, none of the grandiose visions of, say, his contemporary, Zechariah. Haggai speaks in prose, but he speaks in time. He believes heaven and earth are connected, one kingdom. What's done on earth is reflected in heaven. What's done in the divine realm has an effect here. There's room in the prophetic kingdom for those who know how to use a hammer. At least it's doing something.
Haggai's name means "Feast" or "Holiday." There is a suggestion of dancing and music to the root word as well. Some have suggested he was born near the Feast of Booths, which is like Family Camp, when everyone would take to tents and rough it for a while. Getting down and dirty is also good fellowship. Like hard work, it bonds people together.
A prophet's larger vision is essential. I'm reminded of the old story of the traveler who arrived at a medieval town. He found one man scowling, breaking big rocks into smaller rocks. "What are you doing?" asked the traveler. "Breaking rocks," grunted the worker.
A little further down the road the traveler came upon another man performing the exact same task, but this fellow was whistling. When asked what he was doing, the second worker smiled and said, "I'm building a cathedral."
Vision of the larger things helps us make sense of our smaller tasks.
And if it hadn't worked out? If Haggai hadn't measured up? If this prophet for the moment hesitated a second and missed out? That's our fear many times. That we will undertake a work on the part of the church and fall short.
Well, Haggai didn't work alone. Zechariah the prophet is his contemporary, and to a large extent overshadows him. His visions and dreams not only shaped the Temple, but the vision of the suffering servant. No prophet is more quoted during the gospel sections on the death of Jesus than Zechariah.
The pressure is off. God wants to use us, but he's got contingency plans. He knows we're only human, and if we are called to be his emissary for that time, whether in the Christian Education department, on the Trustee Commission, or in the other ministries of the church, rest assured that God is calling many people. We are allowed to fail because God's will SHALL be done.
The word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai. That word told a people that God's kingdom is eternal, and forever, and the line of David would not fail, even though there was no longer a Davidic king, and the current governor, Zerubbabel, would be the last Davidic governor. O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. Be building Jerusalem, but look to Bethlehem.
Something better is coming, something beyond our wildest expectations. The king of glory is on his way. It is he who is in charge, not Darius, not Caesar, not any worldly ruler.
As Eugene Petersen puts it in The Message, his translation of the New Testament, "Are you listening to this? Really listening?" (Mark 4:23). Or as you may remember it, "Let those who have ears to hear, hear."
Still, the zero is a handy marker. There is nothing like watching 100,000 roll over on a car's odometer. Each birthday that ended in 0 (10, 20, 30, and 40) has seemed significant to me. And of course, the end of a decade always seems like a good time to take stock of the most recent chunk of history.
Sometimes we jump the gun. I remember Life magazine published a retrospective of the '80s with about four months to go in 1989. It seemed like a safe thing to do. The big events had already occurred, and surely nothing that significant could happen in the remaining days.
Except, of course, that the waning hours of the decade saw the fall of communism in Eastern Europe, the collapse of the Iron Curtain and the Berlin Wall, and the planting of seeds that led to the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Fairly significant stuff, I'd say.
As a matter of fact, some people called it the end of history. No longer would the world be divided into two ideological camps, east and west, free world and communist. The day of jubilee had arrived! It was a time of rejoicing.
And there was every reason to rejoice, because to a great extent the danger of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction) had passed. There was talk that a lot of the money spent on armaments would be turned into a peace dividend, as swords were bent into plowshares. We'd all be singing in the sunshine.
But the world didn't stop. Nation still took up sword against nation. The Armenians and the Azerbaijanis took up arms against each other. Iraq swallowed Kuwait and was made to spit it out. North Korea took everyone to the brink.
India and Pakistan played nuclear chicken. And we haven't even brought up the mess in the former Yugoslavia!
History didn't stop, but it changed. There were still pressing demands. And a lot of important things we hoped we'd take care of had to be put on hold. How long, we wondered, would we have to wait until we could take care of the widows and orphans?
The book of Haggai was written after the end of history as well. God's people had been in exile for as long a time as the Communist empire lasted -- about the length of a human life. As a matter of fact, that's one of the delicious ironies of the book of Daniel. The young Daniel introduced in the first chapter outlives the Babylonian empire which carried him off.
The exile began in bitterness, expressed best in Psalm 137:
By the rivers of Babylon -- there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion!"
How could we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.
Conversely, there was overwhelming joy when the exiles returned! As was written in Psalm 126:
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."
The LORD has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.
Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
There were big plans for the new Israel. It wasn't going to be quite the same, but after waiting three generations to return, the survivors could hardly wait to get started.
Only they couldn't get started. Here's the chronology. The Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed around the year 586 B.C. The Babylonian Empire, like others before it, deported conquered peoples, moving them across the map like chess pieces. This was supposed to lead to a loss of identity. Instead, with God's help, Israel's sense of destiny was strengthened. God's people gained a stronger self-identification.
In 539 Cyrus the Persian conquered Babylon, and a year later the first exiles returned. His Persian Empire attempted something rather grand. It returned nations to their lands, and encouraged the practice of their local religion. The idea was that these regions, autonomous in some things while recognizing the overarching authority of the Emperor, would be loyal and cooperative.
The Eber Nahara, the larger province of Beyond the River, contained the subprovince of Yehud, the Aramaic word for Judah. This is where the Temple would be rebuilt. It was supposed to be the start of a new golden age. God's people would meet in the restored Temple to glorify his name.
Nothing much came of the attempt to rebuild the Temple. Oh, it began. So we read in Ezra's history:
When the builders laid the foundation of the temple of the LORD, the priests in their vestments were stationed to praise the LORD with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons of Asaph, with cymbals, according to the directions of King David of Israel; and they sang responsively, praising and giving thanks to the LORD, "For he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever toward Israel." And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the LORD, because the foundation of the house of the LORD was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy...." -- Ezra 3:10-12
But there were problems. The returnees thought they were hot stuff, while those that had remained behind, the landless and impoverished, thought they were the true remnant. These latter came to be known as the Samaritans. You would think the two sundered branches of the family would greet each other with joy, but there's nothing like cousins for feuding. A lot of energy was expended in the struggle. A few bribes were made by Judah's enemies. Suddenly there were difficulties with the building permits.
The ones called "the people of the land," those who had remained behind during the exile, filled the people of Judea with fright. These distractions may have fueled the discouragment of the people, but underneath it all may have been a lack of will to complete the project from the beginning.
The temple project ran out of steam. This sounds surprising, but not when you consider it.
I remember when my wife and I traveled to Scotland in 1987. A cabby drove us up a hill overlooking Edinburgh to show us a spot called by two different names: The Scots National Monument, and the Scottish National Shame.
What the traveler finds are three sides of a monument patterned after the Parthenon of ancient Athens. It was intended to house a museum celebrating the Scots' national spirit. The pillars are there, but the money ran out, and no one would take responsibility for the project. The longer it languished, the more difficult it was to resume the project. No one would take responsibility. Soon it became a local joke. The pillars are still there, but the temple to the Scottish spirit remains unfinished.
I find the longer you put off an important job, the harder it is to resume it later. A few years ago our fellowship decided to order signs that directed people to our country church. The task itself was not a big one, but there were always more pressing day-to-day duties for the trustees to take care of: leaky roofs, flooded basements, broken fences, stubborn boilers. The signs were finally made after some months, and then languished while others looked into the local codes regarding the placement of signs. The actual labor involved was minimal, but it took over three years for the signs to make their appearance.
And then there was the parsonage basement. One year I worked out a deal where I would forego a raise for a year if the church would build a new bedroom in the basement. Everyone was in favor of it. As the months slipped by, everyone in the church agreed that the room should be built, would be built; but nothing was done.
Others might have worried, but I knew that at some point a prophet would appear. The Lord would commission someone, speaking to them in their heart, to get the job done. After all, it wasn't a big job. It wasn't going to take years. Just a short period of leadership was needed for the task to be accomplished.
Enter the newly elected chair of trustees. He hadn't actually built a room before, but he'd helped here and there, worked at a lumber yard, and was handy with a hammer. No sweat. It was already mid-October, but he decided he'd marshal the troops and get that room done.
All it took was a leader. The materials and workers were there, just waiting. And it wasn't a long job either. A few Saturdays, a handful of weeknights, spread over the course of a few weeks, and it was done. New bedroom.
That's what Haggai was. A prophet in season.
Meanwhile, the outside world continued.
In the year 522 the emperor Darius ascended to the throne of the Persian empire.
Over the next two years he consolidated his empire, appointed Zerubbabel governor of Judea, and gave permission for work to start again on the Temple.
Enter the prophet Haggai. On August 29 of 520 Haggai first spoke to the people. His last recorded utterance is December 18 of that same year. A bare sixteen weeks of prophetic activity, but it was enough to get the job done. The Temple was begun. It got finished. These scant few verses, the second shortest book in the Old Testament, contain the sum and total of the prophecies of Haggai. It's not much, but a pebble gets an avalanche started.
And it doesn't hurt if the prophet gets involved. The scripture from Ezra notes that "with them were the prophets of God, helping them."
This may mean that Haggai picked up a few rocks himself. It never hurts for the leader to work the hardest.
Most of all, he got the people to work.
Work is ownership. Work is fellowship. When the church hires someone to build the new Christian Education wing, it may get built better, but when church members build it themselves, they become committed to the church and each other.
It's called "sweat equity." The Habitat for Humanity program understands that. Habitat uses volunteer labor to build affordable homes for the poor. No matter how unskilled, the new owners are expected to work on the home as well.
It has helped ensure a near 100 percent success rate when it comes to meeting the mortgage.
So what is the significance of this prophet and his work? Some have complained that Haggai's vision was limited to the Temple, to a building. Considering the fact that Jesus was singularly unimpressed by this building some centuries later when his disciples oohed and aahed, and went so far as to tell his listeners that a better temple would be destroyed and rebuilt in three days, we may wonder what relevance these words have for us.
But Haggai's significance extends far beyond the building he encouraged. His work was essential. He helped to redefine the kingdom of God.
Although the people returned to the land, it was not as members of an autonomous nation, but as a province among provinces. They were no longer ruled by a king, but by a governor.
Zerubbabel was that governor.
Appointed by Darius, he was the grandson of a king, but no king himself. Though he was of the lineage of King David, his name meant "seed of Babylon." Born in a foreign land, he was probably Babylonian in culture and upbringing, although he no doubt identified with his people. Though he had responsibility over the province, he had no real authority. Darius had the authority.
Haggai came to remind Zerubbabel and the people that Darius might have the appearance of authority, but "the word of the LORD" takes precedence. His book reminds us that God is ruler over the nations. God is looking ahead to a different kind of kingdom, a kingdom that will last forever. It will be ruled by a son of David, but one who is eternal.
Haggai might have been talking about a temple, but he was looking beyond to a much more glorious structure -- the manger of Bethlehem. How much of this Haggai clearly saw is debatable, but the fact remains he was looking ahead to the king of glory, and the first step, as far as he could tell, was to get up and do something. No more excuses. Just do something. Take a large task and break it down into smaller tasks. Get started.
This is something that is easy to forget. The job ahead can seem so complicated, the work of the kingdom so daunting, that we are tempted to give up.
Which of us, for example, can solve world hunger? On the other hand, most of us can spend a few hours in a soup kitchen or gathering groceries for the local food pantry. Most of us can't rescue a nation, but we can write a check that fits our budget to send to our denominational hunger programs.
For sixteen years the people of Israel had done very little towards rebuilding the kingdom. Along came a prophet who spoke for barely sixteen weeks. He made a permanent mark.
Emotionally it is easier to commit for the short term. Many times we think a commitment to the church has to be lifelong. If we're a Sunday school teacher once, we serve for life. Board chair once, board chair for eternity. Sometimes the greatest service we can do for the church is to fill in at the right moment. And the short-term ministry can be terrifically significant.
Haggai is a prophet for the moment, like us. He's a Not Ready for Prime Time Prophet. There's none of the heady poetry of other prophetic books, none of the grandiose visions of, say, his contemporary, Zechariah. Haggai speaks in prose, but he speaks in time. He believes heaven and earth are connected, one kingdom. What's done on earth is reflected in heaven. What's done in the divine realm has an effect here. There's room in the prophetic kingdom for those who know how to use a hammer. At least it's doing something.
Haggai's name means "Feast" or "Holiday." There is a suggestion of dancing and music to the root word as well. Some have suggested he was born near the Feast of Booths, which is like Family Camp, when everyone would take to tents and rough it for a while. Getting down and dirty is also good fellowship. Like hard work, it bonds people together.
A prophet's larger vision is essential. I'm reminded of the old story of the traveler who arrived at a medieval town. He found one man scowling, breaking big rocks into smaller rocks. "What are you doing?" asked the traveler. "Breaking rocks," grunted the worker.
A little further down the road the traveler came upon another man performing the exact same task, but this fellow was whistling. When asked what he was doing, the second worker smiled and said, "I'm building a cathedral."
Vision of the larger things helps us make sense of our smaller tasks.
And if it hadn't worked out? If Haggai hadn't measured up? If this prophet for the moment hesitated a second and missed out? That's our fear many times. That we will undertake a work on the part of the church and fall short.
Well, Haggai didn't work alone. Zechariah the prophet is his contemporary, and to a large extent overshadows him. His visions and dreams not only shaped the Temple, but the vision of the suffering servant. No prophet is more quoted during the gospel sections on the death of Jesus than Zechariah.
The pressure is off. God wants to use us, but he's got contingency plans. He knows we're only human, and if we are called to be his emissary for that time, whether in the Christian Education department, on the Trustee Commission, or in the other ministries of the church, rest assured that God is calling many people. We are allowed to fail because God's will SHALL be done.
The word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai. That word told a people that God's kingdom is eternal, and forever, and the line of David would not fail, even though there was no longer a Davidic king, and the current governor, Zerubbabel, would be the last Davidic governor. O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. Be building Jerusalem, but look to Bethlehem.
Something better is coming, something beyond our wildest expectations. The king of glory is on his way. It is he who is in charge, not Darius, not Caesar, not any worldly ruler.
As Eugene Petersen puts it in The Message, his translation of the New Testament, "Are you listening to this? Really listening?" (Mark 4:23). Or as you may remember it, "Let those who have ears to hear, hear."
