Homeless For Sukkot | Dwelling In His Shelter When You Have None

A Night Beneath the Open Sky

It was the first night of Sukkot. The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of damp leaves and city dust. Somewhere, children were laughing as families gathered under sukkot made of wood and branches, string lights twinkling like stars. But across the street, in the shadow of a closed storefront, someone sat on the ground with a backpack, a worn blanket, and a quiet prayer.

That someone was me.

The Torah commands, “You shall dwell in booths seven days; all that are home born in Yisra’el shall dwell in booths.” (Leviticus 23:42). I used to love this command. The building of the sukkah, the joy of gathering with friends, the fruits, the songs, the candles — all of it filled me with warmth.

But this year, I have no booth. No table. No walls. No roof.

Just the open sky, the same one under which our ancestors once wandered.

And so I asked Hashem, “How can I keep Sukkot when I have nothing?”

That question led me to something far deeper than I expected.

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The True Shelter: When God Becomes Our Sukkah

The beauty of Sukkot lies not in the structure itself, but in the reminder that all human shelters are temporary. The sukkah was always meant to be fragile — open to the wind, unsteady, easily shaken. It teaches us that our true protection doesn’t come from walls of wood or stone, but from the eternal covering of the Almighty.

King David understood this when he wrote:

> “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

— Psalm 91:1

When you have no roof, this verse becomes more than poetry — it becomes literal. The shadow of the Almighty becomes your sukkah. The stars above become His handiwork stretched out over you like a canopy of love.

And while others may have crafted their sukkot with palm branches and beams, yours is built by the very hands of the Creator — invisible, yet unshakable.

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When the Wilderness Becomes Holy Ground

During the forty years in the wilderness, the people of Yisra’el lived in temporary shelters. Every time they packed up and moved, their “home” went with them. Hashem Himself led them by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night.

So if you find yourself sleeping on a park bench or beneath a bridge this Sukkot, remember — our ancestors also wandered without walls. And Hashem was with them, every step of the way.

> “And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light.”

— Exodus 13:21

You may not have the fruits commanded, the offerings, or even the branches for a sukkah — but you do have the same presence that guided Israel through the desert.

And that is enough.

Every place your foot touches can become holy ground when you invite His presence there.

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The Messiah Who Had No Place to Lay His Head

When Yeshua walked the earth, He knew what it was to be without a home.

> “And Yeshua saith unto him, The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.”

— Matthew 8:20

Even the Messiah experienced the ache of homelessness. Yet He was not without covering — the Spirit of His Father was always upon Him. He slept under the same stars you see at night, ate bread by the side of the road, and trusted daily in His Father’s provision.

So if you are walking through this Sukkot with nothing but six dollars on your food card, remember: your Messiah walked this same path of dependence, humility, and trust. You are not abandoned. You are walking with Him.

And perhaps, in your poverty, you are experiencing Sukkot in its purest form — total reliance on God alone.

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The Offering of a Broken Spirit

You may be thinking, “But I can’t afford to bring the offerings Hashem commanded.”

Yet Scripture reminds us that there is one offering He never despises:

> “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.”

— Psalm 51:17

You may not have firewood for a burnt offering, but you have your heart — raw, humbled, and open before Him.

And that is an offering far more precious than gold.

When you whisper a prayer of gratitude through your tears, when you share your last piece of bread with someone hungrier than you, when you lift your eyes to heaven in faith — you are celebrating Sukkot in the most holy way possible.

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Feasting on Hope

Yes, Sukkot is a time of rejoicing. But joy is not the absence of hardship — it is the courage to praise God within hardship.

Yeshua said:

> “Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink… Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap… yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?”

— Matthew 6:25–26

You may not have the fruits of the season, but you can still feast on hope. Every bite of bread can become sacred when eaten with gratitude. Every sip of water can become holy when received as a gift from His hand.

Let your rejoicing be in this: Hashem sees you. He has not forgotten you. And He is your shelter.

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Sukkot of the Heart

Perhaps, this year, your sukkah is invisible.

It’s not made of palm fronds or willows, but of faith, humility, and tears turned into prayers.

The Eternal One who commanded, “Dwell in booths,” also knows that not all can build them.

But He looks beyond the hands — into the heart.

And if your heart is turned toward Him this Sukkot, then you are dwelling in His presence.

> “For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.”

— Psalm 61:3

Even when the world gives you no walls, Hashem gives you His wings.

> “He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust.”

— Psalm 91:4

So, my friend — though you may not have a sukkah of wood, you have the eternal sukkah of His love.

And that will never crumble, never fade, never be taken from you.

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A Closing Blessing and Invitation

If this message has touched your heart — if you’ve found comfort, strength, or encouragement here — please know you’re not alone.

We are all sojourners together, walking through the wilderness toward the Promised Land. Some of us may have roofs, others may not. But in Messiah, we share one covering — one hope — one heart.

If you’d like to support this faith-based writing ministry, you can do so through:

Prayer: Pray that these words continue to reach those who need hope.

Sharing: Pass this message on to someone who may be struggling this Sukkot.

Encouragement: Send a kind word or testimony — it means more than you know.

Giving: If you’re able and led, you may support this work so that more messages like this can be written and shared.

Together, we build not just physical shelters — but spiritual sukkot of hope and compassion that can shelter others.

May the Eternal cover you with His peace, feed you with His provision, and fill your heart with His everlasting joy.

Chag Sukkot Sameach.

You are never alone beneath His wings.