Blog 56/ The Long Arc of Belonging: From Imagining Hillman to Finding My Place in the Kingdom
Before I ever stepped onto an HBCU campus, I imagined what it might feel like to belong. What began as a childhood dream became part of my lived experience.
What happens when the belonging we have searched for throughout our lives begins to look different from what we once imagined?
I have been reflecting on this question since my recent conversation with Dr. Olivia Cardenas-Trowers on the Midstride podcast during the first Saturday of October. Our discussion centered on purpose, identity, calling, and the ways we come to understand ourselves beyond professional accomplishments and public recognition.
Yet one question about belonging stayed with me.
Perhaps because belonging has never been a simple concept in my life. It has been something I have studied, advocated for, longed for, questioned, and, in many ways, spent years trying to understand.
My scholarship examines belonging within higher education, particularly the experiences of Black students navigating institutions where their presence does not always translate into meaningful inclusion. But long before belonging became a scholarly interest, it was something deeply personal.
And when I trace that longing back to its earliest expressions, I find myself remembering a little girl watching television, imagining a world that seemed so far removed from the one she knew.
The Hillman I Imagined
Growing up, The Cosby Show and A Different World were more than television programs to me.
They offered glimpses into possibilities I had not consistently witnessed in my immediate environment.
I grew up in a humble household, where financial struggles and other barriers were real. College was not something I regularly saw people around me pursuing, much less navigating with the familiarity depicted on television.
Yet there was something extraordinary about watching Black families, intellectuals, students, professors, and emerging professionals occupy spaces where their aspirations were visible.
And then there was Hillman College.
The fictional historically Black college in A Different World represented an entire universe of possibility.
I watched students discover themselves, build friendships, challenge one another, navigate relationships, confront social issues, and pursue their education within a community that reflected their cultural identities.
It was not a perfect world. The characters experienced conflict, setbacks, misunderstandings, and disappointment.
But they also experienced something I wanted to understand more deeply: community.
They were surrounded by people who looked like them, challenged them intellectually, recognized their potential, and participated in their development.
For a young girl who did not always see those possibilities reflected in her everyday surroundings, Hillman was more than entertainment.
Hillman became a place I could imagine myself belonging, even before I knew how I would get there.
When the Imagined Became Real
Decades later, I would earn my Doctor of Education degree from Clark Atlanta University, a historically Black university located within the Atlanta University Center.
The journey was anything but straightforward.
There were barriers to navigate, sacrifices to make, expectations to challenge, and circumstances that could easily have interrupted the pursuit.
But I made it.
I became part of an academic community connected to the very educational traditions I once admired from a distance.
And when Netflix released its continuation of A Different World in September 2026, I experienced a profound full-circle moment.
The new series brought Hillman back to life using real HBCU campuses, including Clark Atlanta University, Morehouse College, and Spelman College.
Think about that.
“The little girl who once watched Hillman College on television, imagining what it might feel like to belong to a community of Black scholars, eventually became a doctoral graduate of an institution whose campus would help bring Hillman to life for another generation.”
There was something deeply moving about recognizing that connection.
It reminded me that the aspirations we carry as children can remain with us long after we have learned to navigate adulthood.
Sometimes what we are longing for is not simply a degree, a destination, or a professional accomplishment.
Sometimes we are longing for the experience of being seen.
To be recognized.
To be valued.
To participate in a community where our presence is not something we must continually justify.
To be celebrated not merely for what we accomplish, but for who we are.
And yet, even reaching an educational milestone does not resolve every question about belonging.
That realization has become increasingly important in my spiritual journey.
The Belonging That Achievement Cannot Guarantee
For much of my life, I understood belonging through relationships, institutions, educational aspirations, and professional communities.
I wanted to find my people.
My tribe.
Individuals who could appreciate my personality, embrace my gifts, challenge my thinking, celebrate my accomplishments, and recognize my humanity without requiring me to become smaller or less authentic.
There is nothing inherently wrong with that desire.
We were created for relationship and community.
“But experience has taught me that we can reach significant milestones and still encounter environments where our presence is questioned or our contributions are undervalued.”
We can earn the credentials, develop the expertise, occupy the position, and contribute meaningfully while still discovering that acceptance is not guaranteed.
I have come to understand that recognition and belonging are not interchangeable.
An institution can recognize your qualifications without fully embracing your humanity.
A community can celebrate what you contribute without necessarily understanding who you are.
And a title can communicate professional achievement without providing the deeper sense of connection for which the human heart longs.
This raises an important question:
What happens when we stop asking every institution, relationship, and community to provide the ultimate confirmation of our worth?
For me, the answer increasingly returns to my relationship with Jesus Christ.
Christ Understood What It Meant to Be Rejected
As I reflect on the life and ministry of Jesus, I find comfort in knowing that even Christ experienced rejection, misunderstanding, and opposition.
John 1:11–12 describes how Jesus came to His own, yet was not received by everyone. The passage also reveals an extraordinary promise: those who receive Him and believe in His name are given the right to become children of God.
I find that contrast remarkable.
The One who came offering salvation was not universally welcomed.
Jesus did not spend His earthly ministry pursuing popularity or adjusting His calling to secure everyone's approval.
He taught, healed, served, challenged established expectations, extended compassion, and proclaimed the Kingdom of God.
He called disciples to walk alongside Him.
He encountered people who believed, people who doubted, people who misunderstood, and people who rejected Him.
His ministry was not measured by universal acceptance.
“It was rooted in obedience to the Father.”
That distinction challenges the way I have sometimes understood belonging.
If Jesus Himself experienced rejection while remaining faithful to His divine mission, why would I assume that faithful living guarantees acceptance in every environment I enter?
In John 15:18–19, Jesus prepares His disciples for the reality that the world may reject them because their identity and allegiance are no longer governed by the world's expectations.
That passage is not an invitation to withdraw from humanity or to consider ourselves superior to others.
It is a reminder that discipleship requires a different foundation for identity.
I am learning that I do not have to be accepted everywhere to remain anchored in the One to whom I belong.
Bearing My Cross Is Not the Same as Trying to Fit In
In Luke 9:23, Jesus calls those who wish to follow Him to deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow Him.
The word daily stands out to me.
Discipleship is not simply a declaration of faith or an occasional expression of spiritual enthusiasm.
It is a continuing commitment.
It involves decisions about how we live, how we treat people, how we use our gifts, how we respond to adversity, and whose approval ultimately governs our choices.
“I increasingly recognize that living a Christ-aligned life will not always place me in the environments, relationships, or social circles that the world celebrates.”
And I am becoming more comfortable with that understanding.
I do not need to be everywhere.
I do not need to participate in everything.
I do not need to pursue every invitation, recognition, or opportunity simply because it is available.
But I also recognize that being set apart for Christ does not mean being disconnected from people.
Jesus entered communities, shared meals, demonstrated compassion, engaged those who were marginalized, and called others into relationship with God.
His example reminds me that Christian distinction should produce greater love, not greater contempt.
Carrying my cross requires humility, sacrifice, obedience, and a willingness to serve.
It is not about proving that I am different from others.
It is about becoming more faithful to the One I follow.
From Finding My Tribe to Building Christian Community
One of the most meaningful developments in my understanding of belonging has been recognizing the importance of Christian community.
In Acts 2:42–47, the early believers are described as a community devoted to teaching, fellowship, shared meals, prayer, generosity, and mutual care.
Their belonging was not merely symbolic.
It was practiced.
They participated in one another's lives. They responded to needs. They grew together spiritually.
That passage challenges me because it moves belonging beyond the feeling of being welcomed and toward the responsibility of helping others experience genuine community.
Perhaps that is one of the most important shifts in my own journey.
For years, I asked where I could find a community that would embrace me.
Now I am also asking how I can help cultivate communities where others experience the love, dignity, encouragement, and spiritual connection I once longed to receive.
That does not mean my desire to belong has disappeared.
It means that belonging has become inseparable from service.
I want my gifts to contribute to something greater than personal success.
I want my leadership to strengthen communities.
I want my scholarship to illuminate experiences that too often remain overlooked.
And I want my faith to be expressed through more than words.
I want it to be visible in how I live.
The Great Commission: Belonging That Becomes a Calling
Matthew 28:19–20 presents the Great Commission, Christ's instruction to make disciples of all nations, baptizing and teaching them to follow His commands.
Luke 24:46–49 likewise connects Christ's suffering and resurrection with the proclamation of repentance and forgiveness to all nations.
In John 20:21–22, the resurrected Christ commissions His disciples with the words, “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you” (John 20:21, NIV). He then breathes on them and instructs them to receive the Holy Spirit, reinforcing the spiritual foundation of the work they have been called to undertake.
And Acts 1:8 describes the disciples receiving power through the Holy Spirit to become witnesses, beginning in Jerusalem and extending to the ends of the earth.
Together, these passages reveal something profound.
Belonging to Christ is not simply an invitation to find our place within His Kingdom. It is also a calling to participate in His mission.
The community established through Christ was never intended to become an exclusive gathering concerned only with its own comfort. The Great Commission calls believers beyond the familiarity of their immediate communities and into a life of discipleship, service, and witness.
We are called to reach outward.
To witness.
To teach.
To serve.
To extend compassion.
“To invite others into the hope, fellowship, and transformative love made available through Jesus Christ.”
This is where my understanding of belonging continues to evolve.
For much of my life, I searched for spaces and places where I could feel accepted, appreciated, and valued. Yet through my spiritual journey, I am increasingly recognizing that belonging is not merely something I am meant to receive. It is also something I am called to help cultivate through my relationship with Christ.
I am not called merely to locate spaces and places where I feel accepted.
I am called to participate in the work of making Christ known.
To use my gifts in service to others.
To contribute to the growth, care, and strengthening of the Church, the Bride of Christ.
To cultivate communities where others can experience compassion, dignity, fellowship, and spiritual connection.
To make disciples, not merely accumulate accomplishments.
To remain faithful even when obedience requires me to walk a path that others may not understand.
And perhaps one of the most meaningful scriptures in this evolving understanding of belonging is John 15:16, where Jesus reminds His disciples that He chose and appointed them to bear lasting fruit.
There is something profoundly reassuring about that distinction.
As a child, I longed to experience the feeling of being included, chosen, and welcomed into a community where I could thrive. As an adult, I pursued educational and professional opportunities that would allow me to cultivate my gifts and contribute meaningfully to the world around me.
Yet through Christ, I am coming to understand that my identity is not ultimately dependent upon being selected by an institution, affirmed by a professional community, or accepted into every space and place I encounter.
I belong to Christ, and that belonging carries both the assurance of His love and the responsibility of faithful service.
John 15:5 reminds me that lasting fruitfulness comes from abiding in Christ. Before I can pour meaningfully into others, I must remain connected to the One who sustains me.
That is the relationship from which everything else must grow.
The teacher, the scholar, the author, the leader, and the person I am becoming are not separate from that spiritual calling.
They are different expressions of gifts I have been entrusted to steward.
My purpose is not fulfilled simply because I have earned credentials, entered new spaces and places, or received recognition. It is fulfilled through faithful obedience, intentional service, and my willingness to share what God has entrusted to me.
The long arc of belonging has taught me that being welcomed into a community is meaningful. But being called to participate in something greater than myself is transformative.
And as I continue navigating new chapters of life, leadership, scholarship, and ministry, I am learning that my responsibility is not to pursue every space and place where I might fit in.
It is to remain rooted in Christ, discern where He is calling me, and faithfully bear fruit wherever He plants me.
The root remains the same, even when the branches extend into unfamiliar spaces and places.
The Long Arc of Belonging
From imagining Hillman College to earning my doctorate at Clark Atlanta University—a journey of perseverance, possibility, and belonging.
When I look back at the young girl who watched A Different World, I recognize someone searching for possibilities she had not yet experienced.
She wanted to know what it felt like to be surrounded by people who believed in education, intellectual development, Black excellence, and the promise of a future beyond immediate circumstances.
I honor that longing.
I honor the significance of representation.
I honor the educational communities that made new possibilities visible.
“And I honor the journey that eventually led me to Clark Atlanta University.”
But today, I also recognize that the long arc of belonging extends beyond any campus, credential, title, professional community, or human relationship.
My deepest belonging is grounded in Christ.
That does not eliminate the importance of earthly community. It gives me a foundation from which to participate in community without allowing acceptance or rejection to determine my worth.
I can appreciate the people who celebrate me without making their approval the measure of my identity.
I can recognize environments that are not healthy for me without concluding that I have no place in the world.
I can continue seeking fellowship without compromising my convictions merely to be included.
And I can celebrate the gifts God has entrusted to me while remembering that those gifts were never intended for my benefit alone.
Perhaps the most profound transformation is this:
I once imagined belonging as finally arriving somewhere that would make room for me. Today, I understand belonging as being rooted in Christ and helping make room for others to encounter His love.
The little girl who imagined Hillman could not have known every turn her journey would take.
She could not have anticipated the challenges, achievements, disappointments, or moments of extraordinary grace ahead.
But the woman writing these words today understands something she is still learning to live more fully.
I do not have to spend my life trying to earn a place in every room.
I have been called to live faithfully, steward my gifts, love others, and participate in the work of God's Kingdom.
The long arc of belonging has not simply brought me to an institution.
It continues to draw me toward Christ.
And that is a belonging I do not have to earn through achievement.
It is a gift of grace.
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Dr. Courtney Nicole Johnson
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