Can you relate to this feeling? That quiet ache you can’t explain. The heaviness that sits in your chest when you hear of another war headline, another tragedy, another senseless loss, a move to different cities, someone paying the price for someone else’s brokenness, someone falling, or you yourself facing a trauma that you didn’t sign up for. There’s a voice that tells you, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Yes. That feeling. If any of the above resonates with you, I’d love to hear from you!

Lately, I’ve been carrying that a lot. Maybe you have too. It shows up in moments we don’t always notice; in the silence after we put our phones down, in the weariness after a long day, in the ache behind someone’s smile. It’s the groaning of a world that’s tired of brokenness, tired of pretending everything’s fine.

“How can I be okay when everything around me is clearly not okay?” That’s me. Every fabric of my being feels the heaviness with adamant hope that refuses to believe the reality around me and in me because there’s a greater reality reminding me, “The world I see, as it is now, is not how it was meant to be.”

And that’s why somewhere deep inside, there’s a longing for Jesus to come and redeem all of it. As a King to be with His creation. To bring peace where there’s chaos. Justice where there’s oppression. Healing where there’s heartbreak. To take this broken world and make it whole again.

I saw this quote by C.S. Lewis the other day, and it stopped me in my tracks:

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Yes. That’s it.

We keep trying to fill this longing with success, relationships, experiences, even good things. But they don’t satisfy the way we hope they will. Because this ache is not meant to be numbed. It’s meant to point us Home. You know the woman at the well who met Jesus? That story sits well here! She kept coming to the well at odd hours to be unnoticed until she was astounded by true love, Jesus Himself.

We were made for more than this. For a world without fear. Without division. Without pain. We were made for a Kingdom where Jesus reigns fully; not just in our hearts, but over everything.

Until then, the longing remains.

But it’s not a hopeless longing. It’s a holy one. It reminds us that Jesus will come. That there’s more to the story than what we see now. And that even in the waiting, we’re not alone. He’s already with us comforting, healing, restoring in quiet ways we sometimes miss. Just like He pointed the Samaritan woman to the well of living water, He will come again to make us whole again.

So if you’ve been feeling that ache lately, you’re not broken. You’re homesick. And one day, maybe sooner than we think, we’ll see Him face to face. And all the longing will be worth it.

Until then, we wait, even when we wrestle. With hope. With faith. With the assurance that we were never meant to be fully satisfied here. On this side of eternity. Because we were made for another world.