What if belonging was never about fitting in but about being found? What happens when the places meant to welcome us become walls instead of doors? Aren’t we left in the in-between?
There’s a moment we all know too well – the space between longing and belonging. The quiet ache of watching laughter from the edges, of hearing your name in a room you can’t step into, of feeling like a visitor in places that should have felt like home. That tension – between wanting to be seen and wondering if you ever truly fit.
Maybe that’s why, from the very beginning, the human story has been one of communion. The first breath, drawn not in isolation, but in the presence of another. The first words are spoken not into the void, but into a relationship. God’s blueprint was never distance. It was interwoven lives, shared burdens, a table big enough for the ones who thought they’d never have a seat.
And scripture hums this truth in a hundred ways:
- “It is not good for man to be alone.”
- “Bear one another’s burdens.”
- “We, though many, form one body.”
To need and be needed. To hold and be held. To see and be seen.
But what happens when the places meant to embody this sacred belonging become walls instead of doors? When the church feel more like a guarded estate than a house with the porch light on? When the invitation comes with fine print; “Come as you are, but don’t stay that way.” “You’re welcome here… but only if you leave certain parts of yourself at the door.”
At some point, we all find ourselves in the middle; between tradition and discovery. Between certainty and mystery. Between exile and home. Perhaps that’s exactly where we’re meant to be.
Because maybe faith was never about having arrived. Maybe faith is about walking together.
What if God was one of us, trying to make His way home? Not a king in a fortress, but a stranger on the road. Not enthroned in distance, but sitting across the table, breaking bread.
Isn’t that the whole story? A longing met with belonging. A Father who makes His home in us. And a people learning how to open their doors—to each other, to themselves, to the love they were made for.
Maybe this is what we’re all searching for. To be seen. To be needed. To be known. Not as we should be, but as we are.
Maybe belonging was never about fitting in. Maybe it was about being found.
But let’s not forget the story of the five virgins. At first glance, it’s often interpreted as a parable about preparedness. The wise virgins are praised for their foresight, while the foolish ones are left out in the dark. But what if this parable isn’t about preparation at all? What if it’s about the cruelty of shutting others out? Perhaps the wise virgins’ “wisdom” wasn’t something Christ was endorsing – it was a reflection of the world’s way of thinking. The parable ends with the bridegroom arriving as soon as the foolish virgins went away and the wise virgins shut the door, leaving the foolish ones outside. Perhaps it’s a haunting reminder that exclusion doesn’t lead to belonging, but rather leaves us all in the dark.
Yet our religious ego managed to trap our hearts into seeing self-preservation as a virtue.
The message of the kingdom is clear: Bless your enemies, do good to those who curse you, and to be great in the kingdom, you must serve all. It’s not about self-preservation; it’s about self-sacrifice. The kingdom of God is love, not exclusion. It’s about opening doors, not closing them. It’s about welcoming the stranger, not turning them away.
So when you feel caught between – not enough for them, too much for yourself – do this:
Pull up a chair.
Break bread.
Knock on your neighbour’s door.
Or welcome the stranger home.
My Note To You: A Call to Community:
The essence of authentic community is found in the willingness to walk together, to share our stories, and to create spaces where everyone feels seen and valued. Whether it’s breaking bread with a stranger or opening our hearts to those who feel excluded, the call is clear: Be a part of a community that reflects the love and inclusivity of the kingdom as we have experienced in Him.
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