Haggai points to Jesus

I have called these last two verses Jesus, the friend of sinners. And if you are reading the text very closely, you may reasonably point out that that title goes beyond what the text says. Well, so it does. I am going to end with the gospel, the good news at which Haggai only hints. And I do so without apology. God promises here that in spite of their dirtiness in his sight, the temple will be his place of blessing. Even though it is midwinter, they may trust that the fields, the vines, the pomegranates, the olive trees, are going to yield a good harvest at last as a sign of his blessing: from this day on, I will bless you (Haggai 2:19). And that blessing is in some way contingent on the foundation of the temple (Haggai 2:18). And since we have also already seen that it can not be the outward religion of the building, it must be something to which the building points that is the source of this blessing. To what does the building point? It points to the antidote to infectious evil; it points to the cure. Some five centuries later, a leper cried out to a teacher in Galilee, Lord, if you will, you can make me clean. Well, I guess if ever there was a picture of infectious evil, it was that leper, wasn’t it? His every touch was deadly. And yet that Teacher stretched out his hand and touched him saying, I will; be clean. And in the person of that Teacher, the whole process of infectious evil was put in reverse. Concentrated in his Person there is uniquely infectious good. No wonder he said of himself that something greater than the temple is here. That temple at the time of Haggai was the place of the presence of God, in spite of human sin. And it was so because it pointed forward to Jesus Christ. It was the place of sacrifice. the place where human sin could be paid for by the substitution of another life. And it was so because it pointed forward to the one perfect sacrifice for sins.

So, what is Haggai about? It is about Jesus. The answer to low self-worth is not to feel good about myself; it is to cast myself on Jesus day by day, to trust his death for me on the cross, to know his love. He knows all that I am and all that I do and all that I offer. He knows that all of it is dirty in God’s sight, but he loves me and he died for me, and he puts his Spirit within me to change my heart. William Temple, who was Archbishop of Canterbury early this century, said, My worth is what I am worth in God’s sight, and that is a marvelous great deal—for Christ died for me. How easy is it to be friends with God? It is completely impossible. Or it would be, were it not for Jesus, the friend of sinners.¹

Christopher Ash