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We had just arrived in West Palm Beach, staying in a modest Airbnb — a small room off the side of someone’s home. After the long flight, we wanted to stretch our legs. We set out for a walk, not expecting much, just some fresh air and stillness.

But only a few blocks away, we reached the edge of the lagoon.

And across the water, we saw it.

Mar-a-Lago.

The mansion stood glowing on the far shore, lights shimmering on the surface of the lake like something cinematic. We stopped. We looked. It didn’t feel real.

Tomorrow, we would be guests there — not as dignitaries or celebrities, but as something far more quiet and, to us, far more significant:

We had come as ambassadors of the City of the Great King.

We weren’t there to make a statement.

We weren’t there for attention.

We had come on behalf of the believers who remain in Jerusalem — those who live, serve, pray, and hold ground in a place that belongs to God.

It is no small thing to carry the presence of that city into a room filled with power and influence.

And we came not to be seen, but to pray.

To stand in the background.

To whisper what must be spoken:

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.”

“Let those who lead be marked with humility, not pride.”

“Let no one attempt to divide what God has called whole.”

It is an honor to represent Jerusalem — not the political idea of it, not the tourism brand, but the real city. The one where Jesus walked. The one still waiting for His return.

We came quietly.

But we came with purpose.

And we were honored to do so.