The disciples huddled in a dim room, their sandals scuffing ancient tiles. Jesus stood among them, unshaken by locked doors. “Peace,” He said, showing scarred hands. His words rebuilt their crumbling world: “My Father will make our home with you.” Like Chaparral’s remodeled halls, God transforms broken spaces into dwelling places. [33:14]
Jesus doesn’t rent a room in your life—He remodels it. The disciples’ fear became a sanctuary. God tears out old wiring of shame, pours new foundations of belonging. This isn’t about aesthetics; it’s about making space for His presence to inhabit your chaos.
Where does your soul feel like a construction zone—exposed beams, unfinished floors? What clutter have you resisted letting God demolish?
“Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”
(John 14:23, NIV)
Prayer: Ask Jesus to reveal one area of your life He wants to renovate today.
Challenge: Write down three physical spaces you frequent (home, work, car). Pray over one, inviting God to make it a place of His presence.
Moses gripped the stone tablets, Israel’s camp buzzing below. “Love the Lord with all your heart, soul, and me’od,” he declared. The Hebrew word me’od—your “muchness”—defies translation. It’s the surplus you hoard: time, skills, even old griefs. Jesus later mirrored this: the boy’s loaves, the widow’s coins. Nothing is too odd for God’s economy. [47:32]
God demands your excess, not your perfection. The disciples’ fragmented faith fed thousands. Your me’od—that hobby, that painful memory, those unused hours—isn’t neutral. It’s fuel for holy fire.
What untapped resource gathers dust in your attic? When did you last inventory your “muchness”?
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”
(Deuteronomy 6:4-5, NIV)
Prayer: Confess one area of abundance you’ve withheld from God’s use.
Challenge: Set a 10-minute timer. List every “muchness” you possess—tangible or abstract. Star one to leverage this week.
Thomas thrust his calloused hand toward Jesus’ side. The resurrected Lord served broiled fish, His scars proof of hospitality. God’s triune nature—Father, Son, Spirit—is an eternal open door. Before creation, love flowed between them. Now they pull out chairs at your messiest table. [51:54]
Heaven isn’t a distant gated community. Revelation’s New Jerusalem descends, God’s home merging with ours. Your coffee dates, hospital visits, and chaotic family dinners rehearse this eternal reality.
Whose presence makes you feel “at home”? How could you extend that same radical welcome today?
“I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God…‘Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them.’”
(Revelation 21:2-3, NIV)
Prayer: Thank God for three people who’ve made you feel at home in His family.
Challenge: Text someone who feels like a “stranger” in your circles. Invite them to coffee or a meal.
Peter hauled the net, muscles burning. 153 fish flopped in dawn light. Jesus cooked breakfast, soot smudging His wrists. The disciple’s failure (denials, empty nets) became fuel for the feast. Your worst chapters—divorce, addiction, loss—are kindling for others’ healing. [57:55]
God repurposes pain. Like Chaparral’s stripped-bare P7 room, your scars become sacred spaces. Comfort isn’t for hoarding; it’s a relay baton.
What story have you buried that God might resurrect to warm another’s cold night?
“Praise be to the God…who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
(2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NIV)
Prayer: Ask courage to share one redemptive scar with someone this week.
Challenge: Write a sentence about a past struggle. Share it with a trusted friend or small group.
Kids ricocheted between tables, laughter bouncing off Chaparral’s new walls. A volunteer high-fived a boy missing front teeth. Centuries earlier, Lydia’s purple-dyed hands opened her home to Paul. Every “yes” to nursery duty or neighbor’s cry builds God’s metropolis. [38:48]
Heaven’s blueprint includes your ordinary acts. Jesus didn’t commission influencers—He called fishermen to throw nets, then nations. Your muchness, however small, stocks the eternal pantry.
What mundane task could become worship if offered with intention?
“I was hungry and you gave me something to eat…I needed clothes and you clothed me.”
(Matthew 25:35-36, NIV)
Prayer: Beg God to reveal one practical way to serve your “Jerusalem” today.
Challenge: Sign up for one church volunteer slot (kids, greeters, setup) within the next 24 hours.
Jesus locates love and discipleship in a single sentence: anyone who loves him will obey his teaching, and the Father and the Son will come and make their home with that person. John 14 sets the room with tension and uncertainty, but Jesus names God’s nearness with a backyard word, home, not a boardroom word like power or even a churchy word like sanctuary. Home carries belonging, acceptance, and ease, the place a person drops the shoulders and breathes again. God does not wave from the sidewalk; God moves in.
Home, as Jesus frames it, grows as love aligns a life with his way. Obedience is not God demanding tidiness; obedience is God fitting a person for fullness. Deuteronomy says the Lord is one, which means life will bow to a single center. Every attempt to make a home anywhere else will crank up anxiety, because the moment another shiny thing appears, the heart will sprint after it again. Love of the one Lord pulls the life together.
Meyod names how that alignment looks. Deuteronomy’s strange little adverb means “very,” the muchness of a life. Love of God calls for the muchness, not just the leftovers. Meyod might be time, a spare room, a good recipe, business wisdom, art, scars, or stories learned in the dark. Nothing in that pile is neutral. Meyod will either be burned on busyness and brand-building, or it will be placed on the table as hospitality.
The Trinity grounds that table. God is not a committee; God is perfect, parakeritic love, eternally self-giving. Before a star ever burned, love already hummed. If that is the bedrock of reality, then hospitality runs deeper than existence itself. Evangelism, then, looks like creating space rather than arguing people into a corner. The work is setting the table, unlocking the door, staying curious, making room for kids and neighbors and the not-yet-friends who will become family when belonging meets them at the door.
Revelation 21 widens the picture. The story runs from garden to city, and the city comes down. Heaven does not yank people away; God comes to dwell. God makes a home with people forever. Communion names the cost that makes such a home possible. The bread and the cup fix the compass, not to a life of perfection, but to a clear direction toward Jesus. The call is simple and imaginative: name the meyod, surrender the idol of productivity, and let God turn muchness into a place to call home for somebody else.
But let me tell you, there's nothing you can do to get into the untapped potential in your life. You're not gonna reach that if all you do is try harder and harder and harder. All you're gonna do is heap on more anxiety, more pressure on yourself, more sense of guilt and failure because you're just not good enough. I'm telling you, you will never be good enough. So what's it look like for you to say, hey, you know what? I'm gonna slow down. I'm gonna give that up to God. My need to be productive. I'm gonna give up my desire to get everything right and get myself perfect before I start using what God has offered me? What can you do with your miyod? What is your miyod? And how can you take the excess of what you have been given in life and use it to love God and love others.
[00:59:07]
(63 seconds)
So when we make room for other people, when we make space for people in our homes, when we make space for people in our churches whether they be kids or anybody else, when we make spaces in our communities for people to be, we do the work of God. We're creating space. And that right there is our strategy for evangelism. It's not to go around and to try to, you know, argue people into the kingdom of God or something. I don't know that that's ever really worked well. But it's to love be, it's to create space for people, it's to join in God's work of what God was doing all the way back before God even made anything because it's who God is.
[00:54:23]
(43 seconds)
So whatever picture you have of God, the picture of God making a home with you is the picture Jesus wants you to have. He wants you to understand this is what God is like. He's excited to hang out with you, whether that's around a moment of prayer, whether that's at the woodworking table, whether that's when you go for a run or make some food. God wants to be a part of all of that, that home making.
[00:43:52]
(26 seconds)
What do you have what do you have so much of that you haven't fully given over to loving God and loving others with? What is your miyot? And here's the trick, you gotta get creative with this. This isn't just about money. This isn't even just about time. This is about who you are. What has God given you abundance of expertise in? Because there are some of you that I know you have been you've walked through divorce. I know some of you have walked through terrible health crises, and you have the scars that come with that, that have been well earned, you and in the process, you've learned something about that. Learned something about yourself, you learned something about God. Okay. How are you taking that wisdom? How are you taking that experience, that disappointment, that pain, that failure, and using that?
[00:56:56]
(63 seconds)
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