A Mansion Fit for Heaven
Have you ever wondered what Jesus meant when He said, “In my Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2-3, ESV)?
It’s one of the most comforting promises in all of Scripture—the image of Jesus, the Carpenter of Nazareth, still building, still creating—this time, a place for you and me to dwell with Him forever.
But recently, that verse made me stop and ask a hard question:
Is it possible that I’ve built too beautiful a house on earth—one so large, so comfortable—that I may have to downsize in eternity?
For years, Amy and I lived in a 6,000-square-foot home on five beautiful acres. It was everything we thought we wanted—a reflection of hard work, accomplishment, and what we believed was God’s blessing. But over time, I sensed the Spirit whisper, “Whose kingdom are you building?”
It wasn’t a condemnation. It was an invitation—an invitation to realign our hearts with His.
Jesus said in Matthew 6,
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth… But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-21, ESV).
That verse stopped me in my tracks. If my time, talent, and treasure were being poured into maintaining a house that no longer served our mission, perhaps I was furnishing the wrong home.
So, Amy and I made a decision that raised a few eyebrows: we sold the beautiful house and moved into a modest 2,000-square-foot home—about the median value in America. It wasn’t deprivation; it was alignment. We wanted our physical space to mirror our eternal priorities. We even traded luxury cars for simple, reliable ones, Toyotas, and found freedom in the process.
The Apostle Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 3,
“If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay, or straw, their work will be shown for what it is… The fire will test the quality of each person’s work” (1 Corinthians 3:12-13, NIV).
Some of us may enter heaven with the fragrance of refined gold; others, as Paul says, might smell a little smoky, “…as one escaping through the flames” (1 Corinthians 3:15, NIV). Salvation is secure, but stewardship is still being tested.
And I began to wonder: What if the “rooms” Jesus is preparing in heaven are built from the materials we send ahead—from our acts of mercy, generosity, faith, and love? Revelation 19 says the Bride of Christ will be “clothed in fine linen—the righteous acts of the saints” (Revelation 19:8, NKJV). Maybe our eternal dwellings are adorned the same way.
When we downsized, something unexpected happened. Life didn’t shrink—it became simpler. Our capacity for generosity grew. Our joy deepened. Our ability to take greater temporal risk to achieve eternal impact expanded. Our dependence on “stuff” loosened, and we discovered that simplicity doesn’t make life smaller; it makes heaven larger in your heart.
So now I often pray, “Lord, don’t just prepare a place for me—prepare me for the place You are preparing for me.”
And like Sir Francis Drake, I ask Him to disturb me:
“Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst for the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with this life, we have ceased to dream of eternity.”
So, let me ask a couple of questions for you to consider…
Lord, have I focused so much on building my dream home on earth that I may arrive in eternity to find a smaller and less luxurious one—because I invested more in worldly comfort than in building Your Kingdom?
Lord, have the abundance of things I possess dulled my thirst for the living water and my longing for eternity?
Lord, what if the greatest “disturbance” you could bring is to loosen my grip on what I own, so You can enlarge my heart for what will last forever?
Let me leave you with this thought,
He who builds a mansion on earth may one day wish he had built an altar instead, for in heaven, the size of your home could match the size of your surrendered heart.
