The Ache for More
There’s a deep ache inside all of us. It’s quiet, and sometimes we don’t even know it’s there, but it stirs in our hearts. It’s a hunger that never seems to go away, no matter how much we try to fill it. Even in the happiest moments, when everything seems perfect, the question creeps in: Is this it? Is this all there is? This isn’t just a passing thought or doubt. It’s something bigger, a feeling that what we see, hear, and touch isn’t the whole story. It’s a whisper from God, a small imprint in our hearts, telling us that there’s more out there. It’s like our soul remembers a place of wholeness with its Maker, but it can’t quite recall all of it.
Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He has made everything beautiful in its time; also, He has set the world in their heart, yet so that man cannot find out the work that God does from the beginning to the end.” The Hebrew word ha’olam (הָעֹלָם, “the world, the enduring order of things”) doesn’t just mean eternity in a vague way. It points to God’s big plan, the way He built the world with order, rhythm, and purpose. And He put a sense of it inside us. Sometimes we feel it quietly: life isn’t random, there is meaning, there is design. Even the smartest scientists looking at the stars can only see part of it. God’s plan is bigger than anything we can imagine, but He lets us sense it in our hearts.
We notice it in so many ways. The sunrise, a quiet field, a friend’s smile that lifts our day, the vastness of the stars overhead. This isn’t just curiosity. It’s a pull in our nephesh (נֶפֶשׁ, soul, the living self that feels and longs). It’s the heartbeat of God’s call inside us, urging us to seek meaning, to look for alignment with His design. But here’s the catch: we can feel it, but we can’t see the whole picture. It’s like being handed puzzle pieces but not knowing what the picture is. The truth of God’s order is there, but hidden. The stars, the seasons, even the unseen forces of the universe point to His wisdom, but the full picture remains beyond our reach.
This longing isn’t limited to a few people. It’s universal. Everyone feels it, no matter where they live, who they are, or what they have. We try to fill it with success, money, friends, achievements, experiences, but it never lasts. Pleasure or accomplishment can feel good for a moment, but they never satisfy the deep ache in our hearts. That emptiness isn’t a mistake, it’s a sign. God made us for something bigger than the temporary things in life.
Solomon knew this himself. He tried everything the world could offer: pleasure, knowledge, power, wealth. He had more than anyone could imagine. Yet in the end, he said, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!” (Ecclesiastes 1:2) The Hebrew word hevel (הֶבֶל, “vapor, breath”) says it all, it’s fleeting, here one moment and gone the next, like chasing the wind. Everything he tried to make him happy disappeared in time. Pleasure, success, knowledge, they all felt empty in the end.
Solomon’s story isn’t just history. It’s a mirror for all of us. The things of this world, success, fun, wealth, recognition, can’t fix the deep ache inside. That ache is God’s way of pointing us beyond the fleeting things toward something eternal. It’s a compass for the soul, guiding us toward our Creator.
And that’s where Yeshua comes in. Paul writes in Colossians 1:16-17, “For by Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible… all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.” Yeshua is the One who keeps everything in order. He holds the puzzle together. Where life feels scattered or empty, He gives meaning. He shows that the longing inside us isn’t a flaw, but a gift pointing to Him.
Even with Yeshua, the mystery isn’t gone. We see glimpses of His plan in creation, in Scripture, in people, in quiet stirrings of our hearts, but the full picture remains hidden. That’s the tension of life: seeing but not fully understanding, tasting but not yet fully satisfied. But this tension isn’t meant to frustrate us. It’s where our faith grows. It teaches patience, trust, and hope. The ache becomes a companion, not a curse, reminding us that life is meant to point beyond itself.
Living with this tension calls for action. It asks us to seek, to learn, to serve, to pay attention to the world around us. That longing in our hearts is a compass, guiding us to live intentionally. In relationships, it calls us to love. In study and work, it calls us to pursue truth and wisdom with humility. In every small moment, it teaches us to notice God’s fingerprints and to live as part of His design.
So what do we do with this longing? First, admit that nothing on earth will completely satisfy it. That’s not despair, it’s clarity. Second, turn to Yeshua, who meets our hearts where they are and gives what nothing else can. In John 6:35, Yeshua said, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to Me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in Me shall never thirst.” He satisfies the soul’s deepest hunger. Third, live with the tension of now and not yet. We see glimpses of God’s plan, but the full picture is hidden. That’s okay. Trust Him anyway.
In the meantime, the ache is real. The longing is real. And the invitation is real: to live with purpose, to seek Yeshua, to trust Him, and to rest in the One who put the world in our hearts. We may never understand everything now, but we can know the One who holds all understanding, the One who gives meaning to fleeting things, the One who transforms longing into true satisfaction. The ache is sacred. The longing is divine. And the satisfaction, real, eternal, unshakable, comes only from Him.
The ache is sacred. The longing is divine. And the satisfaction, real, eternal, unshakable, can be found only in Him.
Amen.
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