We live in a world overflowing with distractions. Our calendars are full, our phones buzz constantly, and everywhere we turn, something is vying for our attention. Yet even in the midst of all this noise, there are moments when a quiet ache rises within us.
Maybe it comes when you sit in a church pew and feel the words of a hymn stir something deep in your chest. Maybe it happens as you walk through nature and sense a beauty that feels both familiar and otherworldly. Or perhaps it slips in during the quiet hours of the night, when the day’s busyness fades and your soul whispers: There has to be more than this.
That ache is not an accident. Scripture tells us plainly: “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart...” (Ecclesiastes 3:11 NKJV). Deep within, every human being carries a holy longing — a yearning for the sacred.
The Restlessness We All Feel
St. Augustine famously wrote, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” (Confessions, Book 1, Chapter 1). This restlessness is universal.
We try to fill it with achievements — the next promotion, a bigger home, a new accomplishment. Or with pleasures — food, travel, entertainment, relationships. These things may bring a moment of happiness, but the ache always returns. Even the best of them cannot fully satisfy.
Why? Because we weren’t made for temporary things. We were made for God Himself. Our longings point us back to Him — they are like a homing signal written into our souls.
Even those who deny God still experience this yearning. They may chase beauty, meaning, purpose, or love in other places, but the hunger remains. It is the echo of Eden in every human heart — the memory of walking with God in the cool of the day, and the ache of knowing that something has been lost.
This longing is not a flaw; it’s a clue. It whispers that there is more to life than comfort, more to reality than what we can see or touch. When we ignore it, we may try to distract ourselves, but the desire only grows stronger, like a wave that refuses to be stilled.
Longing as an Invitation
Here’s the good news: God doesn’t want us to ignore or numb that longing. He wants us to follow it.
The Psalms give us words for this yearning: “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?” (Psalm 42:1-2 NKJV).
Notice that the psalmist isn’t ashamed of his thirst. He doesn’t try to cover it up or distract himself from it. Instead, he turns his longing into prayer. He acknowledges his need openly before God.
Longing, in fact, can be a form of worship. When you lift your emptiness, your hunger, and your desire for God to Him, you are declaring that only He can fill you. Instead of treating yearning as a problem to be fixed, we can see it as an invitation —a call to deeper communion with the One who has planted eternity in our hearts.
Even small, everyday moments can become invitations. A quiet cup of tea, a pause to watch a bird at the window, or a sigh at the beauty of a child’s laughter can all remind us that our souls are made for something beyond the ordinary.
Where Do We Sense the Sacred?
The yearning for the sacred doesn’t always look the same. God awakens it in many ways, and often in surprising places.
In Beauty
Have you ever stood before a sunset that took your breath away? Or listened to a piece of music so moving it felt like your heart might burst? Beauty stirs something in us that words can barely capture.
This isn’t just a coincidence. Creation reflects its Creator. “The heavens declare the glory of Go; and the firmament shows His handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1 NKJV). When we encounter beauty, we are glimpsing God’s fingerprints in the world.
Even ordinary beauty can awaken the sacred. A single flower pushing through a crack in the sidewalk, the gentle rhythm of rain on a roof, the first green shoots of spring — these can all remind us that God is near, present in the details of our lives.
In Worship
Sometimes the sacred is felt most clearly in community, when voices are lifted together in praise. Ordinary words and simple melodies become doorways into God’s presence. Worship reminds us that we belong to something bigger than ourselves — and that our true home is with the Lord.
There is a profound intimacy in shared worship. When hearts unite in prayer or song, it is as if the invisible threads of longing are woven together into a tapestry of devotion, echoing God’s presence in ways we cannot experience alone.
In Scripture
There are times when reading the Bible feels like God is speaking directly to us. A verse leaps off the page, or a familiar passage suddenly shines with fresh light. This, too, is a taste of the sacred. God’s Word is alive, and when it pierces our hearts, we are reminded that He is near.
Think of Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening intently to His words (Luke 10:39). That posture of attentiveness, of deliberate listening, opens the door to intimacy with God. We can practice the same attentiveness, allowing Scripture to shape our souls and awaken our longing.
In Silence and Prayer
In a world of constant noise, silence can feel uncomfortable. But it is often in the stillness that God’s presence is most deeply known. When we quiet our hearts before Him, the Holy Spirit meets us in ways we cannot explain.
Silence is not empty; it is fertile. It allows our longing to breathe and our soul to recognize the gentle nearness of God. Even a short pause during the day can transform ordinary moments into sacred encounters.
The Danger of Substitutes
Of course, longing can be misdirected. Our culture constantly offers substitutes: consumerism, pleasure, power, self-expression, and even self-reliance. These things may dull the ache for a while, but they cannot erase it.
When Our Yearning Collides with Counterfeits
It’s worth pausing here to recognize that not all yearning leads us toward the sacred. In fact, our longings can so easily be hijacked by lesser loves.
We crave community, but instead of leaning into the vulnerability of real relationships, we may settle for shallow social media interactions. We long for beauty, but instead of seeking the glory of God in creation, we become consumers of endless entertainment. We hunger for meaning, but instead of turning to the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, we chase careers, possessions, or self-optimization.
C.S. Lewis once observed that if we find in ourselves desires that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world. The problem is not that we want too much, but that we settle for too little.
When we allow our longings to be filled with substitutes, our souls remain restless. The ache deepens, and sometimes it takes hitting the limits of these false fulfillments before we turn back to God.
Five Practical Ways to Live with Holy Longing
So how do we nurture this yearning for the sacred in a way that leads us closer to God rather than away from Him? Here are a few practices:
1. Embrace silence and solitude: In a noisy, distracted culture, even five minutes of stillness before God can awaken our awareness of His presence.
2. Pray the psalms of longing: Passages like Psalm 42, 63, and 84 give words to the deep ache of the soul and teach us how to yearn in God’s direction.
3. Seek beauty intentionally: Go for a walk in nature, listen to sacred music, or linger over a piece of art. Allow beauty to lift your gaze beyond yourself.
4. Fast from substitutes: Step back from whatever tends to dull your spiritual hunger—endless scrolling, constant busyness, or compulsive consumption. Fasting awakens desire.
5. Practice presence in the ordinary: Like Moses before the burning bush, learn to say, “This is holy ground” in your kitchen, your workplace, or while doing simple tasks. Brother Lawrence wrote an excellent book titled "Practice the Presence of God" (This is an Amazon affiliate link). It's a book that's helped me over the years, especially with prayer.
Each of these is not about eliminating longing but about allowing it to become a compass, pointing you toward the God who alone satisfies.
Even small, intentional acts — such as lighting a candle and pausing to pray, or taking a moment to note moments of gratitude throughout the day — can awaken the sacred and deepen our awareness of God’s presence.
Living as Pilgrims of Desire
The Bible often describes believers as pilgrims or sojourners (Hebrews 11:13). This world is not our final home, and our restless longings remind us of that truth. To live as a pilgrim is to accept that yearning is part of the Christian life—not something to be escaped, but something to be embraced as a signpost pointing us forward.
The saints of old carried this longing. Abraham left his homeland seeking “for he waited for the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God” (Hebrews 11:10 NKJV). The prophets yearned for the coming of the Messiah. The early church prayed, “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20). You and I stand in the same stream of longing, waiting for the day when faith becomes sight.
Until then, yearning for the sacred is both a gift and a burden. It draws us nearer to God while keeping us dissatisfied with anything less than His presence. It calls us to live intentionally, to notice the holy in our everyday lives, and to lean on God’s promises when the world’s distractions fail.
An Invitation
So, where do you sense this yearning most strongly in your life right now? Is it in a longing for peace in the chaos, for meaning in the monotony, for beauty in the brokenness? Don’t silence that desire. Don’t rush to fill it with what cannot last. Instead, let it draw you to the One who planted eternity in your heart.
To yearn for the sacred is to remember that you were made for more. It is to trace every echo of desire back to the Source. It is to live with open hands, welcoming God into both the ordinary and extraordinary moments of your life.
And one day, that yearning will be met in full. As the psalmist reminds us, “You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11 NKJV). Until then, we walk with holy longing, confident that every ache is a signpost pointing us home.
Your restlessness is not a curse; it’s a compass pointing you home to God.
God bless,
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