Realer Than Real

Read

John 14:2 “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?”

Think

Have you ever been somewhere that made you pause and say, “This can’t be real”? Maybe it was the edge of the Grand Canyon, a sunset that looked painted, or a quiet moment that felt almost too good. Moments like that remind us we were made for something beyond this world. Jesus knew that when he spoke these words to his disciples. He wasn’t describing a dream or a metaphor—he was promising a place.

In John 14:2, Jesus calls heaven “my Father’s house” and assures his followers that he’s preparing a place for them. It’s personal. It’s intentional. It’s real. This isn’t symbolic language to make us feel better. Jesus is describing a destination that’s more solid and enduring than anything we’ve ever stepped on.

We tend to think of heaven in soft terms—clouds, halos, white robes—but Scripture paints a much more vivid picture. Heaven is described as a city, a garden, a kingdom, and a home. These aren’t accidental comparisons. They speak to something tangible. Cities have people, culture, community, and purpose. Gardens have beauty and order. Kingdoms have structure and justice. Homes have comfort and belonging. In other words, heaven won’t feel less real than here. It will feel more real.

That may be hard to imagine, especially when life here feels so loud and immediate. You have bills to pay, deadlines to meet, people to care for. Heaven can feel distant and theoretical. But Jesus wasn’t trying to distract us from reality—he was trying to give us a better grip on it. Heaven doesn’t lessen the importance of life now. It gives it context. It reminds us that we’re not wandering aimlessly. We’re headed somewhere.

And it’s not just any place. It’s a place being prepared for you by the One who knows you best. When a parent sets up a room for their child’s return—fluffing the pillows, setting out their favorite snacks, turning on the lights—they’re doing more than decorating. They’re saying, “I’ve been thinking of you. I can’t wait for you to be here.” That’s the heart behind Jesus’ words. He isn’t preparing a generic space for humanity. He’s preparing a specific place for you.

That promise doesn’t erase the pain of this world, but it does shift our perspective. The chaos, the disappointment, the grief—it’s not the end of the story. And when life feels like too much, we don’t have to cling to every piece of comfort this world offers. We can hold those things loosely, knowing there’s a place where nothing good will be lost.

Jesus also makes it clear that heaven is his Father’s house. That means it’s not just our destination—it’s God’s domain. And where God is, there is wholeness, healing, and joy. To be with God is to be truly home, finally free from the weight we’ve carried for so long.

There are days when heaven feels far away. When grief lingers. When the news is heavy. When your heart is tired. But Jesus hasn’t forgotten you. He isn’t delaying out of apathy. He’s preparing with love and precision. The place he’s building is not a holding cell or a vague afterlife. It’s a home. And you have a room.

That’s why Scripture calls us “citizens of heaven.” It means that our identity isn’t limited to our job title, our income, our relationship status, or even our pain. We belong somewhere greater, and that shapes how we live now. You can walk into today’s struggles knowing that none of them get the final say. You already have a destination. You already have a promise. And that promise comes from the One who cannot lie.

This isn’t religious hype or spiritual fluff. It’s a real place. A real future. A real hope.

Apply

When you get home today, take a moment to stand at your front door before walking in. Pause and reflect: this house is temporary. But your forever home is already under construction. Thank God for the place he’s preparing and ask him to keep your heart rooted in that reality even in the middle of today’s demands.

Pray

Jesus, thank you for preparing a real place for me. Even when I feel overwhelmed here, remind me that this isn’t the end. Keep my heart anchored to the hope of being with you. Help me live with eternity in view and confidence in your promise. In Jesus’ name. Amen.