John 14:2-3 In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, so that where I am, you may be also.
2 Corinthians 5:1 For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
They didn’t build homes or cities along the way. They lived in tents, always ready to move when God gave the word. Their lives were shaped by transition — constant change, daily dependence, and unwavering trust in the Lord’s leading. And that, friends, holds a powerful truth for us today: this life is a journey, not a final stop. We are not home yet. We are travelers, passing through on our way to the place Yeshua (Jesus) Himself has gone ahead to prepare.
Paul echoes this hope in 2 Corinthians 5:1: “For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” Everything in this life–each season, trial, joy, or sorrow–is temporary. It’s part of the wilderness we pass through as we move toward something better, something eternal.
Like the Israelites, we move from one phase of life to another. Childhood, youth, adulthood, and old age–each is like a tent we live in for a time. Our moments of success and seasons of struggle, the highs and lows–they all come and go. Even our bodies, Scripture reminds us, are like tents–fragile, temporary, not meant to last forever.
So what does this mean for us?
It means we should not get too comfortable with this world. This isn’t where we settle. We are pilgrims, called to walk by faith, not by what we see, but by what we know is coming–“the things which are not seen… for the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
Whatever season you’re in right now–whether joyful or painful–remember, it’s not forever. One day, every tent will be taken down. And for those who belong to Him, there is a permanent home waiting — a mansion built by God, not with human hands, but eternal in the heavens.
So I urge you today: live like a traveler, not a settler. Don’t anchor your heart to what won’t last — whether possessions, status, or fleeting seasons of life. Hold loosely to this world and tightly to your calling. Fix your eyes on the eternal. Travel light. Walk with purpose. Stay ready.
Because this world is not your home–you’re only passing through. And soon–sooner than we think–the One who went ahead to prepare a place for you will return again to bring you home.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.