The Road to Loss

Detachment

Loss is a hard thing to manage in most situations.

When I think of loss, I think of what can fill that void. My natural instinct is to find something that can fill the void of something that is missing that was once very dear to me. Often times, I look not to God first (sadly) but I look to worldly things. I look to the goods of multimedia, shopping through until I find the one that seems to be the most promising…and then delve into hours of idol-worship because I've found the thing that I think can fill the void of whatever it was that went missing.

When I think of detachment, I automatically think of material possessions. I think of (what few) things I've accumulated in my life and then imagine what life would be like without them. Honestly, it's really hard for me to imagine that. I, along with the greater society, have bought into the notion of the so-called “American Dream”(Whether or not it still exists is another question).

If and when we ever have the ability to own a house, I'll want to outfit it the best way possible. I'll want to keep the lawn in pristine condition (like dear ol' Dad). I'll want to have nice paintings up in every room. I'll want to have the latest technology to heat up food, to keep food cold, to store away food. I'll want to have the best television experience.

I could write a lot more about this house that I'm not even in yet, but I'll move along.

When we have kids, I'll want them to grow up to be model citizens. The kind of kids that newspapers write about and the kind that win first place awards, not participation trophies. I'll want them to grow up to be successful and when I go the way of the earth, I'll know that I did it all. I lived this American Dream…(or my version of it).

But I'm suddenly brought back down from my elated space-walk.

What if we're not supposed to be like that? What if the things that we've strived for have secretly snuck into our upstairs closets and have tucked themselves away that we don't even realize we've acquired them? What if the things we thought would bring us security and comfort have instead brought us obsession and false identity? What if we've been striving after pseudo-joy, like chasing after a red kite that's spiraling higher and higher into the wind?

What if, indeed.

I know that I can treat suffering and loss as demerits in my relationship with God. It's like when a little kid gets a toy and it instantly becomes the new favorite. She lugs it around wherever she goes: to eat, to bathe, to sleep, to be. The next door neighbor's kid comes over to play and wants to play with the favorite toy. What's the reaction of the owner? Very often, there are fits of greed, anger, and despair.What they thought was theirs is suddenly in jeopardy. They have become so attached that they are blind to the fact that the very toy they have can bring comfort, friendship, and build trust to the one who is requesting it.

How many times have I been blind to God's request of a toy?

I'm learning more and more that God doesn't hand suffering and loss to me because He's dissatisfied with me. He hands them to me because He has more planned for me. He's more expectant of me. Sometimes, God blesses me so that I can bless others.

Identity

Detachment doesn't always demand separation of a trinket. Sometimes, it is a thought, emotion, or defense mechanism. What happens when we feel threatened? Do we get sarcastic? How about apathetic?

We certainly get defensive. The question is what does it look like and how is it best managed?

Certain situations summon our defense mechanisms: a more popular person enters the room, someone funnier shows up, a put-down remark is passed our way, a question about our authority or leadership is challenged. The list continues. In most of those mentioned situations, the common denominator is that we hold ourselves too tightly. We are not free to roam the plains of Detachment because in the plains of Detachment, we're free to shout “My identity is locked away somewhere else! You won't find it on me!”

Instead, we're searching all of our pockets before we head out the door into the big, bad world to make sure our identity is safely tucked away. It's the mace in our pocket when society mutters subtle threats. It's the street lamp in an otherwise dark alley. It's the getaway car when all hell seems to break loose and the plan has backfired.

The scariest of thoughts, though, is when the world catches us on an off day (better yet, an off week) and swipes our identity, unnoticed, when we're having lunch with a friend. We get home and realize it's missing, feel a surge of anxiety rush to the brain, instinctively flip the house upside down in search for it, and slide against the wall in vain as the tears come down our cheeks.

The way I see it, we have two options: 1) we live such a perfect life and be on our game every day for the rest of our lives so that we will always prevail when our identity is threatened. 2) We detach our identity from us completely and entrust it to someone else.

I'm going with the latter. The only way to keep our identity truly safe is to detach it from ourselves. But we then ask, “Who gets it? Who is worthy enough to hold such a precious thing? Who has my best interests at heart and won't betray me?”

You might go to your phone contacts or scroll through your Facebook friends and begin a hiring process in your head, examining your close friends that are most qualified. You would even narrow it down to three candidates that you feel pretty certain about, but just as you are about to hit 'send' on that text message, the question hits. “Can I truly trust this person?” They know you, they've heard some of your dark stories (not all of them), and they've stuck by you through some hard stuff. Yet, the question remains. It won't dislodge itself from your head.

You try and reason with yourself, presenting valid arguments, but it comes back to the fact that this is your identity we're talking about! It's like the muscles on your bones, and the skin over your muscles. Without them, we wouldn't be able to tell who you are.

Identity is like that. It needs to be protected.

The question is, “To whom or where must I go to keep this safe?”