Occasionally my husband and I walk in a gated community where we gawk at incredible mansions. While I’m glad I don’t have to pay the taxes and upkeep on such things, there’s no denying that it would be fun to see inside and to stay for a few nights.
Then I muse on what kind of a “mansion” my Father is preparing for me in heaven. Abraham shares my thoughts. He lived in tents like a stranger in a foreign country because “he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (Heb. 11:10). And now I follow suit. “For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come” (13:14).
When I feel out of place here on earth, it’s because I’m a foreigner whose real address is in heaven. I am here on business for my King, and when that is finished, I’ll be welcomed home to the incredible place He is preparing for me.
I’m satisfied with just a cottage below,
A little silver and a little gold;
But in that city where the ransomed will shine,
I want a gold one that’s silver-lined.
I’ve got a mansion just over the hilltop,
In that bright land where we’ll never grow old;
And someday yonder we will never more wander,
But walk the streets that are purest gold.
Tho’ often tempted, tormented and tested
And, like the prophet, my pillow a stone,
And tho’ I find here no permanent dwelling,
I know He’ll give me a mansion my own.
Don’t think me poor or deserted or lonely,
I’m not discouraged, I’m heaven bound;
I’m just a pilgrim in search of a city,
I want a mansion, a harp and a crown.
Lyrics and Composer: Ira F. Stanphill, 1914.