There was a season in my life when everything looked fine on the outside but felt strangely thin on the inside.

Sound familiar? There’s a great line in J.R.R. Tolkien’s, Fellowship of the Ring, where the character, Bilbo Baggins, says,

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

That was it. That was how I felt. I kept moving, however, from one obligation to the next, checking tasks off the “to do” list, and doing what needed to be done. Every now and then, usually in the quiet moments, when there was nothing left to distract me, a question would rise to the surface like a whisper I could not silence. Is this it? Is this really all I am supposed to be doing? Is this all there is to the Christian life?

Maybe you have felt something like that too. You go through the week, and you carry the weight that comes with work, family, schedules, decisions, and a thousand unseen responsibilities. You care deeply. You try hard. You show up. Yet somewhere underneath the effort feels more like an ache for something more. There’s a growing sense that life is supposed to be richer and more meaningful than the pace you are trying to keep. You know what I mean, don’t you?

Most people never admit that feeling out loud. Almost everyone, however, knows what it is like to sense that they were created for something more robust, risky, faithful, and even beautiful than the daily grind. So, our question becomes . . .

How do we actually discover who we are and why we are here?

That is where the Gospel of John becomes such a glorious gift. Contained in its pages Jesus keeps meeting people right in the middle of their searching. Have you ever noticed? The questions He asks are never for His own information. They are invitations. They are doorways. They are moments where heaven leans close and says, I know who you are and I know who you can become. Do you know who you are and who you’re destined to become? [re-read that, please]

When Jesus meets the very first disciples, He looks at them and asks,

“What are you seeking?”

He does not ask what they know or what they can prove. He asks what they want. That single question becomes the beginning of their identity. They — and we — were made to seek. Not to drift. Not to settle for the status quo. Not to stay stuck in the quiet frustration of a life on endless rinse and repeat. Something in that question wakes them up.

A chapter later Jesus stands at a wedding celebration where the hosts are running out of resources. It is a picture of so many lives today. Tired. Stretched thin. Running on empty. And in that moment Jesus transforms water into wine, he’s not showing off, but showing what He does with ordinary things that are placed at His disposal and how old things are transformed into new things. Jesus brings newness and life. He reveals we are made for transformation, not self-improvement, and certainly not mere survival.

Soon after that Jesus walks into and “cleanses” the temple by confronting what had been neglected and misused. It is a challenging moment because it reminds us that holiness is not about religious perfection. It is about clarity or purpose and vision. It is about protecting what matters. It is about surrendering our need to manage everything on our own and allowing God to do His cleansing work inside us.

And then there is the quiet nighttime conversation with Nicodemus. The man who had every credential and still felt empty. Jesus tells him the truth most of us spend years trying to avoid. New life does not come from trying harder. Real life comes from beginning again. Life comes from letting God breathe something fresh and alive into places we thought were set in stone.

These conversations are not ancient artifacts. They are the way Jesus continues to meet us today. And every time He asks a question or makes a statement, He is moving toward something deeper. He is drawing us from surviving to seeking, from existing to awakening.

Dare I stay it? This is why Church on the Hill exists.

We want to be a place where people discover they are made for more.

Not more pressure. Not more religious activity. More life. More purpose. More clarity. More joy. More belonging. More of the identity that only Jesus can give.

If you have ever sensed that something in your soul is stirring, consider this your invitation. Come and see what Jesus might want to awaken in you. Join a group where you can be known, loved, and encouraged. Explore faith in a community that welcomes real questions. Or simply show up on a Sunday and let yourself breathe again. You might be surprised by how often God speaks when you give Him room to speak.

You were not created to run on empty. You were not created to drift through your days hoping something changes on its own because it won’t. You were created to seek. To be transformed. To become whole and holy. To discover the truth that when Jesus meets you, you find not only who He is but who you truly are.

So, consider this: What if the restlessness you feel is not a problem to solve, but an invitation to answer? What if the hunger for more isn’t about more at all, but about coming back to God? You were made for more than getting by. Come and see what that could look like.

See ya on the Hill real soon.

Thanks for reading.
JC

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