What does it mean to belong? How do I belong? Or, more accurately to whom do I belong? You know the answer: God. Of course. God is always the right answer, right? But what does that mean and how does it play out in my life?
This summer, when we were still new to the area and new to our church, Jeff was involved with the leadership because of his internship, and was already meeting with staff and developing relationships. I was primarily at home, out in the wilderness (or so it felt) and severed from friendships in our previous hometown. During the Fall Kick-Off service, we filled the bleachers at the high school football stadium. The music was rockin’, people were clapping, and the energy was high. Spirits were soaring. I stood holding my son, standing next to my parents, alone. I was surrounded by hundreds of people, family even, my son even. But I was alone. As the sermon began, Dutch woke up (he’d been asleep on my lap) and began to cry, so I took him out behind the bleachers. He was tired and hungry, but I couldn’t get into the car because Jeff had the keys and I couldn’t go and get them because I didn’t want to distract people by walking in front of them (another illogical fear—being an inappropriate distraction to people). So I paced behind the stadium for the entire service. You don’t belong here. Echoed hauntingly through my mind. You don’t belong here. Whispered so quietly into my soul. You don’t belong. I stood facing a corner for a few minutes to release a little of the built up pressure through tears, but brushed them away briskly as someone walked by. As they sang the final song, Jeff came out and checked on me. I got the keys and went to the car to feed Dutch. As I sat, holding my squirming boy close to my chest, tears streamed down my face. I don’t belong here. I turned my face down to avoid being seen, as I peered at the sea of faces now flooding out of the stadium and out past our car. I don’t belong here. Groups of people formed, talking, laughing. I don’t belong here. Jeff and Dad had to stay for a leadership meeting, so Mom and I drove their car home. Mom climbed in the back with Dutch and I drove home, silently. I don’t belong here.
Now looking back, I can see clearly that that was a lie from the evil one. But why that? Why that particular lie? Why is it so important for us to belong? We long to belong. As little girls, we want that best friend. As we grow older we dream of who we will marry, whose name we will take, who we will belong to. We have a circle of friends, perhaps a family, perhaps a club or hobby group to whom we belong. We surround ourselves with ways to belong, and yet—do we really understand to whom we belong? Do we have that sense, that if all other things were stripped away, that with God we would belong?
The truth of the matter is that we do belong. When we were born again, we became part of this family of God—we now belong. We belong whether we feel it or not. We belong whether she snubs us or ignores us, whether he dislikes our opinions or the way we raise our children. We belong despite our differences and we belong despite others’. We belong.
When we understand that we belong to God, there is a freedom that allows us to savor solitude. Solitude is not the same as loneliness. Loneliness is a state of the heart when we fail to recognize our belonging to God. Solitude is a blessed state of the heart (and sometimes body) that savors our union and communion with God and is free to enjoy silence or sound, company or quiet. Solitude is primarily a state of the heart. Blessed belonging, blessed solitude, produces a peace, a rest, a ceasing of striving that produces a beautiful stillness in our lives that cannot be explained. In the midst of bills and deadlines and dirty diapers, there can be a peace and tranquility about us that defies logic. In a world where we frantically move from one distraction to another, desperate to not be alone with ourselves, solitude bravely faces the danger of stillness and is at peace with what the quiet heart may find. Solitude refuses the clutter of a busy heart and freely opens itself up to God’s piercing light.
This solitude is available. But first, I must understand that I belong. I am not alone. I am not forsaken. I am not unloved. I am valued beyond measure. I am begotten of God. I am made in His likeness. I am crafted in His image. I reflect His beauty and glory. He beckons me to dine with Him. He longs for my embrace. He craves the recesses of my heart and no thing about me does He despise. In this I can rest. In this I can be still and embrace the beauty of solitude, where my striving ceases and my heart finds its home. In God’s presence I belong. I belong to Him.