A Better Home Than This One

Read

Philippians 3:20 “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Think

There’s something deep inside every person that longs for home. Not just a place to sleep or a roof over our heads, but a place where we are fully known and fully safe. A place where we don’t have to prove ourselves. Where everything feels right. We chase that feeling our whole lives. We decorate homes, build careers, collect memories, but even at our best moments, something inside whispers, “There has to be more than this.”

That whisper isn’t dissatisfaction—it’s design. It’s eternity echoing in your heart. Paul says, “Our citizenship is in heaven.” That means the ache we feel isn’t because something’s wrong with us, but because something is missing from here. We weren’t made for a world full of goodbyes and grief. We were made for another home, one that can never be shaken.

Think about what it means to be a citizen. Citizenship gives you belonging, identity, and security. When you travel abroad, you carry your passport as proof of where you belong. It tells anyone who asks, “This is where I’m from.” In the same way, followers of Jesus carry heaven’s citizenship. It’s stamped on your soul. You belong somewhere else, even while you live here.

That’s why life often feels both beautiful and broken. It’s like living in a temporary house while your real one is being built. You might hang some pictures, plant a few flowers, make the space cozy, but you know it’s not forever. It’s good—but not complete. Heaven is the completion. It’s home without the cracks, love without loss, joy without end.

Still, the waiting is hard. We look around and see the mess: injustice, loneliness, illness, stress, disappointment. And we start to wonder if heaven is just wishful thinking. But this verse reminds us that our waiting isn’t wasted. Jesus is preparing a place, and while he does, he’s preparing us. The work God is doing in your heart right now—the growing, the stretching, the forgiving, the trusting—is part of getting you ready for home.

Imagine moving to a new country. You’d have to learn the language, the customs, the culture. In a way, that’s what spiritual growth is—it’s God teaching us heaven’s language while we’re still here. Every act of love, every time you choose grace over bitterness, every moment you worship instead of worry, you’re learning to live like a citizen of heaven.

There’s a story of a family whose house burned down. In the ashes, the father found their family photo album—singed but intact. He held it up and said, “This is all that matters.” That’s how heaven reorders our priorities. When you remember where your true home is, the temporary losses hurt less, and the things that last—people, purpose, love—matter more.

Heaven gives perspective. The things we stress about now—career paths, status, comparisons—start to lose their grip when you remember this life is just the first chapter. Imagine being on a long flight and getting obsessed with the in-flight magazine. You might read it for a while, but you wouldn’t confuse it with the destination. The world we live in now is the layover, not the arrival. Heaven is the destination where every ache, every prayer, every longing finds its answer.

Maybe lately you’ve felt like you don’t belong anywhere. You’ve moved, relationships have shifted, or your life doesn’t look the way you expected. Take heart. The disorientation you feel isn’t failure. It’s proof that your spirit recognizes this world is not your home. The homes we build here are just shadows of the one we were made for.

And one day, you’ll walk through the door of heaven and realize that every longing you’ve ever had, every ache you’ve ever felt, every moment of joy that slipped away too soon—all of it has been leading to this. Home at last. Complete. Secure. Joyful. Forever.

Until then, live like a citizen of that Kingdom. Love people well. Bring a piece of heaven’s peace into earth’s chaos. Build beauty even in broken places. And remember, your real address isn’t here—it’s with Jesus.

Apply

Do one small thing today that reminds you of heaven. Eat dinner with gratitude. Watch the sunset. Invite someone over and share a meal. Every time you experience beauty or belonging, let it point your heart toward your true home.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for giving me a home that nothing on earth can match. Help me live as a citizen of heaven even while I walk through this world. Teach me to love what lasts and to hold everything else loosely. When I start to settle for less, remind me that you’re preparing something better. Keep my heart homesick for you until the day I’m finally home. In Jesus’ name. Amen.