Redefining Family: Finding Belonging Beyond Bloodlines
Holding On
What makes us cling to the idea of “family,” even when there’s no relationship to speak of?
Why do we claim connection to people we’ve barely met or have no bond with, simply because of a shared name or bloodline?
Is it a cultural phenomenon? A way to satisfy our human need for belonging? Or is it rooted in something more primal, perhaps an ancient attempt to maintain genetic diversity?
The Bible speaks often of family and lineage, particularly the second and third generations:
"The Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin. Yet He does not leave the guilty unpunished; He punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation." (Exodus 34:6-7)
These verses remind us that family ties carry weight, spiritual, emotional, and generational. But does the significance of family extend beyond these inherited connections if there is no relationship, no love, or no effort to nurture one another?
The Illusion of Family
Yesterday, I was challenged repeatedly to examine what “family” truly means. Growing up, I had a fantasy of what family should be. I dreamed of creating something I didn’t have as a child—an idealised vision of love, support, and connection. But reality rarely matches the fantasy.
My mum’s side of the family was large and well known within a closed church community. I used to proudly say, “My mum’s a Manser,” as if it gave me an identity.
But as I grew older, I realised that knowing of people and truly knowing them are two different things.
Yes, we visited them on holidays, but I also witnessed the judgment and criticism they directed toward my mum.
And then there was my dad’s side, practically non-existent after his death. My mother’s commentary shaped my view: “They were just after his money.” I was too young to challenge her words, but the memory of strangers rummaging through cupboards after his passing became etched in my mind. Whether they were helping us pack or taking what they could, the damage was done. They disappeared from our lives entirely after that.
Why do we cling to titles “Aunty” “Uncle,” “Cousin”, when there’s no relationship to back them up? Why do we hold onto photos of people who play no role in our lives? Are these just labels meant to remind us of what should have been?
The Weight of Estrangement
Recently, I told my dad’s sister; a woman I’ve spoken to maybe twice in my life, that I didn’t want a relationship. It felt strange and awkward, but the truth was undeniable: this woman is a stranger to me.
When I met her five years ago, her apology was blunt: “Sorry, when your dad died, we forgot about you.” I appreciated her honesty, but her words revealed an uncomfortable truth,
I was never part of her world. So why was I trying to maintain a connection that never existed?
Her response to my distancing was poised, even gracious. But the situation forced me to confront why I still gave her the title “Aunty.” What had she done to earn it? Titles like these, I’ve come to believe, are not automatic; they must be lived out through love, effort, and presence.
Family Beyond Blood
My experience with “family” has been a patchwork of hurt, love, and lessons learned. My mum’s sisters, for example, played vastly different roles in my life. One aunt was present during my childhood but fell out of contact with when I moved out of home . Another aunt, who lived interstate, took me in during my darkest times. Her kindness and discipline shaped me in ways I can never repay.
But these relationships pale in comparison to the love and care I’ve received from non-blood relatives, friends and strangers who showed up when I needed them most.
Over the years, I’ve lived in 24 different places, taken in by families who offered me a home and taught me about compassion and resilience. These people, those who fed me, sheltered me, and treated me as their own—are my true family.
Adopted Into Christ
The beauty of the gospel is that it redefines family entirely. In Christ, we are adopted into God’s family, becoming His children and heirs:
"So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are His child, God has made you also an heir." (Galatians 4:7)
Through this adoption, we gain a family that transcends bloodlines. It’s a family united by a common goal: to love God and do His will.
I’ve come to deeply value the friends who have walked alongside me in life. For years, I didn’t fully grasp the extent of their love. But looking back, I see how they’ve shown up time and time again, loving me and my children unconditionally, even when they had no obligation to do so. Their faithfulness has reminded me of Jesus’ words:
"Whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother." (Matthew 12:50)
These friends have embodied Christ’s love in ways I never expected, teaching me that true family is found in shared faith, love, and purpose.
Forsaking to Find Belonging
"Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10:37)
Letting go of earthly family ties is not about rejection but about prioritising our relationship with God. In doing so, we discover a deeper belonging in the family of Christ—a family that strengthens us, heals us, and walks with us.
To my friends who have been my family: I see you. I appreciate you. Your love has been a lifeline, a reminder that I am not alone. You’ve taught me what it means to belong, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Holding on to empty titles weighs us down. Instead, I choose to hold on to the people who reflect God’s love, and who remind me, I am never truly alone.
