Between Here and Home

There are moments when a familiar promise suddenly feels closer—not because the words have changed, but because our hearts are listening differently. Jesus’ words in John 14:2-3 is like that. They’re tender, deliberate, and deeply personal:

“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. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.”

What settles into my thoughts is not only what Jesus promises, but how He carries it out. Among the many sacred roles He fulfills, He’s also the One overseeing a transaction far more important than any dwelling we could ever secure through a lease or purchase. In the truest sense, He’s preparing a home for His people—carefully, lawfully, lovingly. Heaven isn’t a vague idea floating somewhere in the future; it’s a secured reality already in progress, held together by the faithfulness of Christ.

Unlike any earthly arrangement, Jesus Himself has paid the full price. Scripture tells us plainly, “For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s” (1 Corinthians 6:20).

We couldn’t afford this home. We couldn’t contribute to the cost. And yet He never asked us to. He simply asks us to trust Him—to place the matter fully in His hands, knowing He understands every detail far better than we ever could. There’s something deeply relieving about that. Salvation isn’t a shared payment plan. It’s not a bargain we negotiate. It’s a gift purchased entirely by Christ, offered freely, received by faith.

There’s also a waiting period. That space between promise and fulfillment—the quiet stretch where anticipation grows and preparation happens. And this is where many of us feel the tension: we love the promise, but we struggle with the “not yet.” Yet Jesus is not only preparing the place; He’s preparing His people. He’s shaping character, steadying faith, and gently teaching us how to live now as citizens of the kingdom we are soon to inherit. Waiting, then, is not idle time. It’s formative time. It’s where trust becomes steady, where hope becomes anchored, and where our love for this world loosens—little by little—because something better is drawing near.

And still, the destination is even better than the dwelling. Scripture lifts our eyes beyond walls and streets to the heart of the promise itself:

“Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God” (Revelation 21:3).

It will be His neighborhood. His presence. His home—shared. The greatest joy will not simply be that we arrive somewhere beautiful; it will be that we are finally, fully with Him—no distance, no veil, no interruption, no goodbyes. The promise of John 14 is not merely relocation. It’s reunion.

We do not know the move-in date. We’re not given a calendar or a countdown. But we are given assurance. The paperwork is underway. The price is paid. The place is real. And the promise is sure. Christ does not speak as One hoping it will work out—He speaks as One who will personally finish what He began.

Until that day, we live as people in transition—hopeful, watchful, and quietly packing our hearts for home. We keep oil in our lamps. We practice faithfulness in small duties. We learn to value what’s eternal over what’s immediate. And when the world feels loud, unstable, or exhausting, we remember that nothing is uncertain on His end.

And somehow, knowing Who is handling the details makes the waiting lighter.

If this Fireside Chat warmed your spirit and sparked fresh resolve to live what you believe, fan that flame with Scripture—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). Pull a little closer to the Light, and carry it into the week ahead.

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419