Lessons in Detachment

I can’t believe I’m approaching my one-year anniversary at Leadership Now.  Is it possible that a whole year passed?  Is it possible that only a year passed?  Similar to my first year of teaching, my first year in ministry felt at times like walking through a beautiful field.  A field filled with blooming flowers and tall grasses.  A field fraught with hidden divots and holes.  And true to me, I seem to be someone that not only steps in the hole but falls head first into it.  I only seem to learn from truly tumbling.  Making a complete mess of myself.  I must be a disciple of Christ, for like Jesus’ followers, I seem to learn not from listening and watching but from jumping in the middle of the mess and experiencing life myself.  Maybe that’s why I am so attracted to the idea of the Incarnation—God in the midst of life.  It seems to be the only way that I begin to grasp the lessons life and God attempt to teach.
And one of the lessons (repeated in a myriad of ways) of this first year has been a lesson in detachment.  Originally a scary concept for me—as I have been known to live in the world of my head—this is a different kind of detachment.  Not the kind of escapism, intellectualism, or dissociation.  Rather an incarnational detachment.  The recognition of my need to step back and get out of my own way.  The need to be still, so I could know God.  The need to truly see how fragile and flawed we human beings are—and most notably to realize that–though I seem to disparage this—I, too, am one of these human beings.
Whether recognizing my powerlessness with a boyfriend’s substance additions, with patients’ ailments and deaths, with the conflicts and struggles of the church, and with my own families chaos, this year challenged me to live what I claim to believe: Christ redeems and saves (not me).  Seeing all of this, feeling all of this, truly taking it in.  Now that has been the lesson of detachment.  And the part I find most amazing is that in this detaching, I feel a freedom to chose to speak or be silent, to sit or stand.  I start to release the pressure of perfection and instead seek God.