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]As we celebrated Yom Teruah (Feast of Trumpets) and are in the midst of “Yamin Noraim” or the days of awe, the days between the Feast of Trumpets and Yom Kippur, it is the season of repentance.
This is the season that the shofar (rams horn) is blown to heed the call of warning to repent from our sins and be clean. The shofar’s unique sounding blast is a wake-up call to all who will hear.
As we find ourselves in the midst of the Yamim Noraim (Days of Awe), our hearts are centered this week on repentance as we prepare for Yom Kippur, which is approaching this Friday. In this spirit, I want to share something I discovered while studying the Jewish roots of many of Yeshua’s (Jesus’) parables. I came across an insightful teaching from a Jewish Rabbi, which I believe holds a valuable lesson for us today.
After our very small wedding in Jerusalem, my wife and I planned to have the big ceremony she’d always dreamed of, in Havre De Grace, Maryland. Rivka had it planned it to the tee. It was an outdoor wedding next to the longest standing lighthouse on the east coast. We were going to wow our guests with an entrance by way of sailboat. Ten dancers with candles in glasses were to proceed my beautiful bride as I awaited her under our hand-crafted chuppa, lit by the sunset on the bay.
Between Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur are ten days. These days are known as “Yamim Noraim”, “the Days of Awe” — or also translated, the “Awesome days”. In Judaism it has been long believed that these days seal your fate for the upcoming year — and also allude to your final destiny, concerning whether your name continues to be written in the Book of Life.
One of the major themes of Rosh Hashana is called Akedat Yitzchak, which means the Binding of Isaac. According to Jewish tradition, God told Abraham that the ram’s horn – otherwise known as a shofar – should be blown on Rosh Hashana to remind people of the sacrifice that God provided Himself when Abraham was about to offer Isaac on Mount Moriah.
The concept of ownership often influences how one can view the world, but if we recognize the truth that our time here is short and we can’t take anything with us, it will change our perspective. We are simply stewards of what has been entrusted to us. I’ve been running Worthy and its sites for 25 years, and I’ve never thought I was an owner but rather a steward of a ministry.
The last and most intimate metaphor for Messiah’s relationship with us is as Bridegroom to Bride. For some, the Lord’s intention to marry will be the most significant and wondrous purpose in all of Creation. The preparation for the wedding will be the most meticulous and profound of all historical processes, orchestrated by His Holy Spirit in cooperation with every devoted and expectant saint who ever lived.