Freedom from Within
Detachment, Part 1
For me, the saddest flowers in all the world will always be yellow roses.
The last time I purchased them was decades ago, after the fifth or sixth breakup with “Sharon.” Yellow roses were her favorite.
Sharon and I were involved in an on-again, off-again relationship during high school, and, try as we might, we could never quite declare it at an end. I was much too immature to maintain a long-term relationship, but I was also too immature to detach myself emotionally from Sharon.
I felt so guilty that every time we decided to end the dates, I went out of my way to express to Sharon how special I thought she was—beginning with the yellow roses. And, of course, as these things happen in high school, that was inevitably followed by Sharon being reminded what a great guy I was. And since I thought she was so special and she thought I was so great, maybe we ought to give it “just one more try.”
It is one thing to be surrendered. It is another thing entirely to be detached. Surrender is an act of the will, accepting physical circumstances or situations God has ordained and looking for His good purpose in them. Detachment means we stop finding our meaning and security in people, things, positions, money, and power so they no longer lure us into actions we know are unwise or unprofitable. Surrender is about what we submit to; detachment is about what we yearn for.
Detachment is the attitude that helps us cooperate with God’s work as He shapes our desires, so we come to rest in the knowledge that what is truly valuable to the soul can only be given by God Himself: “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”
Freedom from Within
It is extremely difficult for us to deny ourselves what we truly desire. The great Reformed writer, John Owen, points out, “He hates not the fruit, who delights in the root.” We might have sporadic success at staying away from something that has captivated our heart, but it is unlikely we will have consistent success. To stop feeding on harmful things, we need to consider our improper appetites: “When the appetites are extinguished—or mortified—one no longer feeds on the pleasure of these things.”
Christians today can become so focused on stopping a sinful behavior that we can lose the practical nature of virtue. We want to stop sinning without examining and freeing ourselves from the root desires that are disordered. To be free from sin, we need to look at the internal cause rather than just focus on the action. When a Christian falls today, 99 percent of the spiritual effort is spent trying to control the “stumbling”—that is, we focus on outer strategies to help us avoid the situations in which we sin. A young dating couple will be told never to be alone together; an alcoholic will be warned away from bars or liquor stores. But if the heart is bent by an appetite that leads to sin, all the external discipline agreed on in moments of strength will wilt in the heat of desire.
Iron will—external discipline that creates physical distance but not spiritual deliverance—will meet with only limited success. If you have been fighting sin unsuccessfully, in large part because while you offer up the action, you can’t stop the craving, then you need the virtue of detachment. This virtue begins when we turn our eyes from the created to the Creator.
Chains of Silk
In Victorian novels, romantic tensions often occur when a member of the upper class falls in love with a member of the lower class. Back then, to love someone beneath you in society was considered poor taste. Rather than elevating the person in the lower class, it tended to deflate the reputation of the person from the upper class.
John of the Cross argues that when we love the created over the Creator, we do the same thing: We lower ourselves to the level of what we love. Just as we are raised when we are enraptured by God, so we devalue ourselves when we desire lesser things. “Anyone who loves a creature, then, is as low as that creature and in some ways even lower because love not only equates but even subjects the lover to the loved creature.”
When we love something God has created more than we love God Himself, we not only set ourselves up for huge disappointment but also set ourselves up to sin against God, over and over. This is the tragedy of our sin: “Since nothing equals God, those who love and are attached to something other than God, or together with Him, offend Him exceedingly.”
God offers us spiritual fulfillment, true character transformation, joy, peace, purpose, spiritual fellowship, and freedom—all the intangible blessings that mean the most. But we become fixated by anything else—everything else! Instead of interior peace, meaning, freedom, and fulfillment, we crave things that excite the mind, ego, and flesh for a brief moment but then usher us into all kinds of agony and frustration long-term. God, who can satisfy every true need, is standing beside us, waiting for us to revel in His presence and receive His good and holy gifts, while we set our desire on baser things.
Imagine the change that might take place in your relationships if you stopped looking to others and sought your deepest needs in a benevolent, ever-present God. You would no longer need to make wearying demands on a spouse. You could become a servant lover, instead of demanding one. If you were frustrated in your relationship with your parents, you could stop asking for something they couldn’t really give, and instead find acceptance and true love from your heavenly Father. If you were a parent, instead of burdening your children with your own expectations, hopes, and ego needs, you could concentrate on equipping them to become who God made them to be.
Demands ruin relationships. Unfulfilled demands turn relationships into a living hell and make us miserable. Unfortunately, it never occurs to most of us to learn how to have God fulfill our needs.
Detachment means that you relinquish every demand you place on things and other created beings—even legitimate ones. Requests are legitimate, but demands create spiritual chains. They make you vulnerable to an imperfect person who may use your wants to manipulate you, or who may simply lack the spiritual or emotional health to provide what you want or need.
François Fénelon warns, “Golden chains are no less chains than are chains of iron.” It doesn’t matter what binds you as long as it binds you. Whether the cords you are entangled with are made of silk or nylon; whether your yoke is made of steel or a beautiful piece of oak; whether your cage is rusted or polished, imprisonment is hell, and your demands are the bars that hold you.
The road and ascent to God, then, necessarily demands a habitual effort to renounce and mortify the appetites; the sooner this mortification is achieved, the sooner the soul experiences freedom and spiritual abundance. Until the appetites are eliminated, one will not arrive no matter how much virtue one practices.
The Glorious PUrsuithttps://garythomas.com/books/the-glorious-pursuit/This post focused on the need for detachment. The next post will explore how we can foster detachment and put it into practice.
For a more thorough treatment of this and other virtues, check out my newly revised book The Glorious Pursuit: Becoming Who God Created Us to Be. The Glorious Pursuit would be particularly helpful for individuals, couples, or small groups who want to grow in Christ by focusing on the positive–what we are to become—rather than the negative—what we should stop doing.
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