A Promise That Carries Us Home
The rising light that reminds us—He will come again, just as He said.
Devotional Credit:
Day by Day by Grace by Bob Hoekstra
Photo Credit:
Unsplash
Jesus gave His disciples a tender, personal promise the night before the cross—a promise not only for them, but for all who would trust Him in the days to come. He knew their hearts would tremble with fear at His departure, so He anchored them in something unshakable: “I will come again and receive you to Myself.” His absence was not abandonment; it was preparation. His return would be reunion.
The hope of Christ’s return has always steadied the hearts of believers through storms of grief, uncertainty, persecution, and trial. His ascension wasn’t a vanishing act—it was a visible promise that as surely as He went up, He would come again. The angels made that clear in Acts 1. The same Jesus who rose bodily and gloriously would return just as visibly.
And so we wait—not with passive resignation but with active hope. We wait with anticipation, not dread. We live our days as sojourners with our eyes on the horizon. This is not escapism; it is expectancy. Just as He went to prepare a place for us, so we live preparing our hearts, not to earn the home, but because we’re already loved by the One who built it for us.
The early church held fast to this hope, and so must we. Whether we are among those who sleep in Christ or those who remain at His appearing, we rest assured that we shall always be with the Lord. Until that day, we live in the light of His promised return, drawing comfort not from the world’s stability but from the certainty of our Savior’s embrace.
Journal Entry – Voice of the Holy Spirit Through Scripture
You are mine, beloved, and I have not forgotten My promise. Do not let your heart be troubled. My words are sure, My timing perfect, and My return certain. I have gone ahead of you, not to leave you behind, but to prepare a place for you in the Father’s house, where joy does not dim and tears do not fall.
You walk in a world that groans, and even your body joins in that groaning, but I have sealed you with My Spirit as a guarantee. Let that inner witness calm your fears and stir your longing, for the One who promised is faithful. The heavens once opened to receive Me, and they will part again to reveal Me. You will not miss the moment. I will come again and gather you to Myself, and in that embrace, every ache will vanish.
I do not ask you to escape your earthly calling, but to carry it with eyes lifted. Your hope is not grounded in politics, possessions, or preservation, but in Me. My return is not a vague comfort—it is the anchor of your hope, the melody behind your endurance, the joy behind your surrender.
Even now, I am with you. But then, face to face. Until that day, I lead you with My peace, infuse your moments with purpose, and remind you that the same hands that were pierced for you are preparing a home for you. Trust Me to come again. And while you wait, abide in Me, yield to Me, rest in Me.
Scripture References: John 14:1–3; Acts 1:9–11; 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17; Titus 2:13; Romans 8:23; Ephesians 1:13–14; Hebrews 10:23; Revelation 21:4
Real-Life Analogy
Imagine setting your table for a loved one who’s traveling home—placing their favorite dish just right, fluffing the pillows, lighting the candle they love. Every detail carries quiet anticipation. You know they’re coming, and that changes everything about the waiting.
Today, your Lord is the One who went ahead to prepare such a place for you. But you’re also His dwelling now. As you go about your day—folding laundry, sitting in traffic, responding to a hard email—let the awareness of His soon return shape your posture. You don’t need to rush or fear. Instead of striving, whisper within, “Lord, I trust You to live Your peace and expectancy through me right now.” Maybe through a smile you give a stranger, or the patience you show to someone who needs grace. It’s His return that steadies you… and His presence that carries you.
Prayer of Confidence
Jesus, thank You for preparing a place for me. Not just a space, but a place with You. I don’t have to fear the future or grasp for security in this passing world, because I’m already anchored in the promise of Your return. I rest today in the assurance that You are coming again—and even now, You are with me. Let this certainty quiet my heart, fill my moments with purpose, and draw me ever closer to You. I am already Yours. Amen.