“You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1 (NIV)

I planted my patio garden last weekend with a strange mix of excitement and hesitation. Last year’s plants did not do well.

Between pesky bugs, sickly looking tomato bushes, and little to no vegetable yield, I was over the whole thing by August. I let the plants wither and was tempted to give up gardening completely.

But the winter months seemed to erase some of those memories. As April inched toward May and the grass gradually turned green, my fingers ached to be in the dirt. I began to dream once again of fresh caprese salads and homemade salsa using produce grown from my little patch of land.

So I took the risk. I let myself follow the longing rising within me with the sweetness of hope.

In many ways, I am learning to do the same with relationships.

Belonging, I find, is a lot like gardening. We cultivate and tend the ground as best we can. We learn what the soil needs and how it reacts. We nurture each leaf and vine.

But even so, there are elements outside our control. We can do all the right things to foster community and connection, but sometimes we are still left wounded or weary, alone in “a dry and parched land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

Yet the longing remains. Our desire for connection is innate, even when we want to abandon it altogether. In these moments, I am finding that our longing for belonging is enough to keep hope alive. It is enough to know that our thirst for connection is good and eternal, and as my friend Charlotte Donlon writes, our loneliness is pointing us back to ourselves, each other and the Divine.

We might need time to let the ground settle and space to tend to our souls before reaching out and trying again. We might need to become reacquainted with the welcome already within us, the image of God folded into our marrow and our skin (Genesis 1:27).

Knowing that the desire to belong does not signify our lack but is a beautiful longing, we can look up in hope. We can sink our fingers into the life we have been given and look for God “in the land of the living,” confident we will experience His goodness among us once again (Psalm 27:13, NIV).

God, help me see my desire to belong as an invitation toward what is good, a communal hope You implanted within me from the beginning, so that even when I am lonely and the ground beneath my feet is cracked and dry, I can sense Your welcome within me. Let the ache move me toward others as we find our home in You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

OUR FAVORITE THINGS

For a deeper exploration into how we relate, get a copy of Sarah's new book, The Way of Belonging.

ENGAGE

Sarah regularly explores the intersection of faith, belonging and being an actual person in her newsletter and her podcast, Human Together. You can also connect with her on Instagram.

Enter to WIN your very own copy of The Way of Belonging by Sarah E. Westfall. To celebrate this book, Sarah’s publisher will give away 5 copies! Enter to win by leaving a comment here. {We’ll randomly select 5 winners and then notify each one in the comments section by Monday, July 1, 2024.}

FOR DEEPER STUDY

Psalm 38:9, “All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you” (NIV).

How does your posture toward yourself, God or others change when you know that your longing is known by God and is meant to point you toward what is good?

© 2024 by Sarah E. Westfall. All rights reserved.

Proverbs 31 Ministries thanks InterVarsity Press for their sponsorship of today’s devotion.

Click here to view our policy on third-party links.