When Longing Remains

28 Jun 2026

Cover photo: Alex Funk's blog on Israel - Longing. A Walk Across the Field

from Alexandra

How We Learn to Live with Unfulfilled Desires—and Why God Can Meet Us Right There

There are wishes that come and go. And then there are longings that take root deep in our hearts. They stay with us for years, sometimes even a lifetime.

I, too, carry that longing within me.

For many years, I’ve wanted to leave Israel and live closer to my relatives. Not because I don’t love this country. On the contrary. Israel has become a part of my life. And yet, my heart sometimes aches when I think about how wonderful it would have been if my children could have grown up with their grandparents. Sundays spent together. Birthdays. Spontaneous visits. Memories that come about quite naturally when family lives close together.

But our lives turned out differently.

Time and again, I had the impression that God wanted us to be in Israel. Doors closed, and others opened. Over the years, I’ve been able to see how God has guided us, provided for us, and placed us exactly where we were meant to be.

And yet …

That longing hasn’t gone away.

It makes itself known quietly, and sometimes loudly. When I see pictures of my family. When my kids ask why Grandma and Grandpa live so far away. Or when I have a moment to myself and wish I could just drive over for a quick visit.

I used to think that true faith had to silence every longing. Today, I believe otherwise.

You can trust God completely and still feel pain in your heart.

You can be convinced that God is leading you down the right path, and yet still grieve for something you would have wanted so much.

Maybe you’ve experienced this, too.

Maybe your longing is something else.

An unfulfilled desire to have children. A marriage that never came to be. Health that won’t return. A career you were never able to pursue. Reconciliation you’ve been hoping for for years. Or simply the feeling of wanting to have found a place to belong.

Unfulfilled longings are among the heaviest burdens we can bear. Not because they’re loud, but because they’re silent. They accompany us through our daily lives. They sit with us at the breakfast table. They ride with us to work. They lie awake beside us at night.

So the question isn’t just: How do I get rid of this longing?

Perhaps the more important question is:

How can I live with a longing without letting it control my life?

Unique Moments

Beautiful moments—but also profound questions

Meaning: More Than Just the Pursuit of Happiness

We have to set it up and then take it down again. Our sheep pen.

On the way.

Beautiful nature. Still, life in Israel is tough.

What exactly is longing?

We use the word often, but we rarely ask ourselves what it really means.

A wish can come true. A longing runs deeper.

It touches a part of our personality, our history, and often our identity as well. Longing arises when our heart senses that something is missing—something that should actually be there.

That’s why longing can be beautiful—and painful at the same time.

It reminds us of what we love. But it also reminds us of what we don’t have.

The Austrian psychiatrist Viktor Frankl once wrote, in essence, that people do not seek happiness first and foremost, but rather meaning. Happiness often cannot be forced. Meaning, on the other hand, can be found even in the midst of suffering.

Perhaps that is exactly where the key lies.

Not every longing disappears. But every longing prompts us to ask whether we can find meaning despite the lack.

When I think about my unfulfilled wish, I often feel sad. But why are longing and sadness so closely related? And aren’t they actually the same thing?

The Difference Between Grief and Longing

Many people confuse grief with longing.

But they are not the same.

Grief arises when we have lost something.

A person, a relationship, a dream, or a phase of life.

Grief looks back. It is the process of coming to terms with a loss. Longing, on the other hand, looks forward.

It focuses on something that is missing or that never came to be.

Grief researcher J. William Worden describes Grief is a process in which a person learns to continue living with a loss. The relationship with the person who has been lost changes, but it does not disappear.

With longing, it’s different.

It can persist for decades because it concerns not only a past loss, but also a future that never came to pass.

That’s exactly why longing sometimes feels so elusive.

You can’t “lock her out”. She keeps coming back to visit us.

When does longing become dangerous?

Not every longing is a bad thing.

On the contrary.

It shows that our heart is alive.

It only becomes dangerous when it starts to dictate every aspect of our lives.

If we believe:

“Only when that happens can I be happy.”

“Only when God grants me this wish will I be satisfied.”

“Only then will my real life begin.”

Then a longing slowly turns into an idol.

Not because the wish is wrong.

But because we tie our lives to its fulfillment.

I had to ask myself that question.

Would I still trust in God if I were to stay in Israel for the rest of my life?

I wish I could say this answer comes easily to me.

And perhaps it is precisely this honesty that marks the beginning of true faith.

As difficult and painful as it is, I must consciously confront this longing time and again. For only in this way can I avoid losing myself in fantasies or unattainable desires, and instead continually refocus my gaze on God.

When I read the Bible, I realize that it has a lot to say about longing.

The Bible is very familiar with longing.

David writes:

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.”
(Psalm 42:2)

Longing, then, is not something unspiritual.

It is part of being human.

Abraham, too, lived with a longing.

The Letter to the Hebrews describes him and many other heroes of the faith in remarkable terms:

“All of them died in faith without receiving the things promised … They confessed that they were strangers and exiles on earth.”
(Hebrews 11:13)

That touches me.

These people trusted in God.

And yet some died with unfulfilled promises.

So faith does not mean that God grants every wish.

Faith means trusting God even when our wishes are not fulfilled.

Paul knows this, too.

Three times he asks God to take away his “thorn in the flesh.”

But God’s answer is not:

“Yes.”

Rather:

“My grace is sufficient for you.”

Sometimes God gives us change. Sometimes He gives us strength.

Both are acts of grace.

God, I understand now what I’m feeling and why. But what do I do with that now?

How can I learn to live with this longing?

There are a few steps that help me.

I acknowledge my longing and honestly express it before God.

Don’t push them aside. Don’t downplay them. God isn’t afraid of my tears. The Psalms are full of them.

Then I keep checking:

Do I want this more than God Himself?

That’s not an easy question.

But a healing one.

Gratitude also helps.

Not as a religious duty.

But rather as a daily reminder that our lives aren’t just made up of what’s missing.

And finally, we get to learn to live with open hands.

Perhaps God fulfills our longing. Perhaps He changes it. And perhaps He does not take it away, but carries it with us.

That is precisely where our hope lies.

Our Deepest Longing

The older I get, the more I believe that all longings point to a single longing.

The Longing for Home.

Upon arrival.

A place where nothing is missing.

Perhaps this world hurts us so much at times precisely because it was never meant to be our final home.

Perhaps that explains why even people who seem to have everything still feel a sense of emptiness.

More than 1,600 years ago, the Church Father Augustine wrote a sentence that has lost none of its truth to this day:

“Our hearts are restless until they find rest in you.”

I think that’s exactly the point.

Not every longing is fulfilled on this earth.

But every longing can bring us closer to God.

In conclusion

My longing remains.

Maybe it will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Maybe God will open a door after all someday.

I don’t know.

But what I know today is something else:

God has never left me alone in all these years.

He was there when I cried.

He was there whenever I had doubts.

And he was there when I was able to trust again.

Trust doesn’t mean that all questions are answered. Trust means that we don’t let go of God even when our longing remains.

Maybe that’s actually the greatest miracle of all.

It’s not that every longing disappears.

But rather that God’s faithfulness is greater than what we lack.

Because what awaits us in the end is not the fulfillment of all our earthly desires.

Our father is waiting for us at the end.

And with him, we will finally feel completely at home.

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