Belong Week: Heaviness
The world has been feeling heavy lately. Maybe you’ve noticed it too. The ache of neighbors struggling to make ends meet, the sting of “have” versus “don’t have,” the quiet pain in someone’s eyes even when they’re smiling. Here at KCB, we see it every day. Our staff feels it too. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep going with the same level of joy when the hurt seems endless.
Yesterday, at our weekly Bible study in the community center, we gathered. There was staff and neighbors alike, sitting together, digging into what community and fellowship really mean. Not the polished version, but the messy, human one. Not the fake one. The real one. The kind where you show up tired, or broken, or doubting, and still find a seat at the table. As followers, we read about being called to carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2), but that hits differently when you’re sitting next to someone who’s living that burden right now.
It’s “belong” week, and while I was going to highlight a specific neighbor, I thought it would be better to stop and remember that not only our neighbors, but each and every one of us, whether you’re reading this blog or not, belongs. We have a Father who loves us and weeps with us when we go through the trials of life, and here at KCB, we hope to extend that same love.
That’s what our community center is for. It’s not a cure-all or a fix for everything. It won’t erase the hurt or fix every fracture overnight. But you know what it is? It’s a place where you can show up as you are. You can be angry, lost, hungry, or even just tired, and still belong. Where you can spill the ugly truth over coffee and find someone who’ll listen, not judge. We’re called to carry each other’s burdens, and yesterday and everyday, I see that in action: a circle of neighbors and staff, holding space for the hard stuff.
Is that all we’ll ever need? No. But it’s a start.
This is a place where you can walk in and be seen—not as someone who either “has” or a “doesn’t have,” but as a person. A neighbor. A staff member. A human. Someone who belongs. Whether it’s a cup of coffee, a conversation, or just a quiet corner to breathe, this space reminds us we’re not alone in the mess.
I believe there’s power in that.
When the world feels like it’s pulling us apart, showing up for each other, even in small ways, keeps us human. Keeps us hopeful. So if you’re feeling the same weight today, come by sometime. Sit with us. Belong with us. Because the hurt may not end on this side of the sun, but neither does the strength we find when we follow the One who made that sun, together.