Reflection: What Does It Mean to Belong?

Romans 8:15: You are not a slave to fear; you are a child of God.

For most of my life, I believed belonging was something I had to earn.

I thought it meant being chosen, being kept, being loved enough not to be left. I learned early how to mold myself into whatever version felt safest — quieter, easier, smaller. I learned how to disappear inside rooms while still technically being present. I mistook survival for connection and called it belonging because I didn’t know there was another option.

But God has been slowly — patiently — unteaching me that lie.

Belonging was never meant to be something I performed for. It was never meant to be something I bled for or begged for or proved myself worthy of. True belonging doesn’t require self-abandonment. And anything that demands I betray who God created me to be was never a home in the first place. For a long time, I tried to belong to people before I belonged to God… and before I belonged to myself.

I wanted human approval to heal a God-shaped wound. I wanted to be chosen by others because I didn’t yet believe I was already chosen by Him. Somewhere along the way, trauma distorted my identity. I forgot who I was created to be and started believing I was only as valuable as my usefulness, my obedience, my silence, or my ability to endure pain without complaint.

But God is restoring my identity — not loudly, not all at once — but gently, layer by layer. He is reminding me that my belonging was settled before I ever took my first breath. That I was claimed before I was criticized. That I was known before I was wounded. That I don’t belong because I’m perfect, healed, or put together… I belong because I am His.

Belonging, I’m learning, is not found in places that require me to shrink. It’s found in spaces where truth is welcomed — even when it’s messy. It’s found where love doesn’t come with conditions or ultimatums.

Belonging is realizing that God never asked me to become someone else to be loved by Him. He asks me to come as I am — scarred, questioning, weary — and let Him do the restoring. Belonging feels like coming home to my body instead of living on guard. It feels like speaking honestly without rehearsing every word. It feels like standing in my faith without fear of rejection.

And sometimes belonging means grieving the places I outgrew. It means letting go of relationships, versions of myself, and old identities that were built in survival — not truth. It means trusting that if God removed me from a space, it was never punishment… it was protection.

Belonging doesn’t mean everyone will understand me. It means I finally understand who I am in Him. I am not an afterthought. I am not a mistake. I am not too much. I am being restored. I am being rooted. I am learning that my truest belonging was never lost — it was waiting.

Closing Prayer

God, Teach me what it means to belong — not to the noise, not to fear, not to old versions of myself that survived but never felt safe. Restore my identity where trauma distorted it. Heal the places where I believed love had to be earned. Remind me that I am chosen, claimed, and deeply known by You. Help me release every space that required me to abandon myself. Give me the courage to stand in the truth of who You say I am — even when it costs me comfort. Let my belonging begin with You, grow within me, and overflow into the life I am building.

Amen. 🤍

XOXO, The Healing Wildflower