I work at a construction site. At the start of each project, before a single structure is built, we set up a temporary office—a prefab shelter where the site managers work.
At first, the space feels unfamiliar and awkward. But after a year or two, it becomes surprisingly comfortable. Company documents begin to pile up, and I gradually bring in personal items one by one. Soon, it feels almost like a permanent office. The inconvenience fades away. Then, quite suddenly, we were told to pack up. The temporary building would be dismantled, and we were to move into the newly completed structure.
Though I had always known the prefab office was only temporary, I had become so used to it that I unconsciously assumed I would stay there indefinitely. When the move was abruptly announced, I found myself flustered and unsure of where to start. The piles of files and belongings felt burdensome. Even though the removal of the office had always been part of the plan, the move became difficult simply because I hadn’t prepared.
As I thought about the office relocation, I found myself reflecting on a more serious matter: Have I been properly preparing to leave this temporary life and enter the eternal home—heaven? If God were to call me to heaven next week, would I be ready? Or would I panic, unprepared, unsure of what to bring?
This world is but a temporary shelter, just like the prefab office. One day, without fail, each of us will be called to return to the eternal home that God has prepared for His children. But rather than preparing for that day, I fear I’ve been preoccupied with accumulating the baggage of worldly desires. Thankfully, it’s not too late. From now on, I will live with intention, seeking out what truly matters and preparing for my heavenly home.