Spiritual Homelessness: When Becoming Threatens Belonging

Everyone on this planet longs to belong to someone or something. 

This longing takes on all shapes and sizes, embodies routines and rituals, and ultimately is what makes the human species so unique as cultures form and differentiate, making belonging possible. 

So, when it comes to spiritual belonging, and the increased exodus of people moving away from their spiritual homes of origin, we should be curious enough to ask…

“Why are people choosing not to belong?”

I spend a lot of time in my professional world sitting with clients at the intersection of mental health / spiritual health and psychology / theology. This longing to hold tension in these areas is largely informed by my own story, but even more so informed by a conviction that the health of the mind, heart, and body is inextricably tied to the health of the individual and collective soul. I believe we are naturally wired as humans to seek connections and places of belonging that can hold these complex parts of ourselves holistically, rather than just in parts or unilaterally.

So, what happens when the spiritual homes we find ourselves longing to belong to are unable to sit with us in the crossroads of these complex parts? 

Or, perhaps more painfully, when the spiritual homes we have belonged to in the past become places of wounding, betrayal, and heartache? 

We encounter intersections every day. Most commonly, we might encounter them as we walk, bike, or drive our way to work, school, shopping, etc. They are clearly marked and boundaried, have signs which give directions and provide rules, and they are largely successful in their purpose of establishing a spirit of compromise and give and take. Red light, “Go ahead, I can wait.” Green light, “Time to go, thanks for waiting.” On the whole, the rules are followed, boundaries are respected, and safety is established. 

But, every once in a while the rules are broken, the boundaries are tested, and safety is compromised. Collisions ensue, injuries follow, sometimes lives are lost. Trust is shattered. Blame is cast. Fingers are pointed. Division. A natural flow becomes a gridlock. Give-and-take becomes dug-in-heels.

So, what does this have to do with spiritual homelessness? 

The metaphor helps shed light on the ways that other intersections (like human discourse) can quickly spiral into defensive power grabs. We encounter intersections every time we cross paths with another human being. There are spoken and unspoken rules, cultural norms and expectations, and compromise. These intersections take place on micro scales (i.e. smiling at someone as you walk past them), and on macro scales (i.e. entering the threshold of a church). 

A common perspective of the spiritually homeless is that their difference becomes viewed as a threat rather than as a sign of hope. Belonging becomes about adhering to norms rather than about compromise. Belonging becomes about valuing the past rather than risking the present and future. 

Becoming begins to threaten belonging. 

This would normally cue someone to simply find a new home, a new place of belonging. But perhaps the deepest struggle for the spiritually homeless is that spiritual homes don’t function in the same way other homes do. While the harm is real and present, the heart and soul don’t easily or quickly long to move on from what they have come to believe to be true. Faith and hope are forces that aren’t easily shaken, and nor should they be. So faith and longing remain, but now without a safe home to rest in. This leads many to choose to exist without a home rather than remain in a harmful one.

It must be understood that this comes at a significant cost. To the spiritually homeless, the cost is a wandering that can often feel lonely and barren. To the spiritual homes they’ve left, the cost is a riddance of difference that is essential to its collective health. Both lose out on belonging.

We need to stop treating spiritual homes like traffic stops. In spiritual homes, “broken rules” and “tested boundaries” don’t have to lead to lost lives, but they often do. The lack of curiosity towards why boundaries are tested in the first place invites a spirit of threat of excommunication rather than a spirit of invitation to belong. And exposure to threat can only be held for so long before someone begins to go looking for safety elsewhere.

So, to those living in tents, you are not alone. May your courage towards becoming lead you to safer homes, deeper connection, and more rooted belonging.