Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost: October 13, 2024
Laura Meyers
Mark 10: 17-31
On the drive in this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the powerful visual that Holy Spirit offered to me. Leaves, with their natural cycle of budding, flourishing, and falling, offer a beautiful metaphor for the spiritual act of letting go and trusting in God. By observing the life of leaves, we’re reminded that letting go is not about loss or defeat but about opening ourselves to the gifts and possibilities God has waiting for us.
“Let go and let God.”
I first heard this phrase through the teachings of Alateen and Al-Anon, both fellowship groups that provide support for families and friends of people struggling with alcohol addiction.
Over time, this simple yet powerful saying has become a famous spiritual mantra beyond AA, as it captures an invitation to surrender worries, fears, and our attachments, creating space for peace and for God’s guidance to take root in our lives. When we let go, we acknowledge that while we do our part, there’s a larger plan at work beyond what we can see. It’s a practice of faith, where we trust that by releasing our struggles, we open ourselves to receive divine wisdom, strength, and peace.
The story of this young man centers profoundly on the theme of attachment—on how the things we hold close, the things that define us, can also hold us back from fully embracing God’s kingdom. This man approaches Jesus seeking eternal life, eager and respectful, but when Jesus invites him to let go of his possessions and give to the poor, he walks away grieving. He is bound by his attachments; his wealth isn’t just something he possesses—it possesses him.
The man’s attachment to wealth reveals a truth that extends beyond material riches. Attachments can take many forms: our jobs, social status, relationships, personal dreams, or even ideas about who we are. The possessions of this young man were his security, identity, and source of worth. But when Jesus invites him to follow, the weight of these attachments is exposed. Jesus offers a life of radical freedom in the Kingdom of God, yet the man’s attachment to his wealth keeps him bound.
Our own identities, as well, can be a form of attachment that keeps us from fully experiencing the Kingdom of God because it often centers on ego, self-definition, and earthly concerns.
Our identities are usually shaped by roles, labels, and achievements we cling to. These constructions can become barriers because they create a false sense of self, centered on earthly values and distinctions. Jesus often spoke about letting go of self-centeredness and attachments as a way to move closer to God, emphasizing that we must lose ourselves to truly find ourselves (Matthew 16:24-25).
Our identities often include defense mechanisms—ways we protect ourselves from pain or vulnerability. When we cling to these, we resist surrendering to God and trusting in divine love and protection. Jesus encouraged openness to God like a child, implying innocence, trust, and a shedding of defenses that prevent us from fully relying on God’s grace (Mark 10:15).
To experience the Kingdom of God, we’re called to release the attachments that tether us to worldly definitions of self and embrace a divine identity as beloved children of God, free from ego, striving, and separation. This path asks us to live with a spirit of openness and humility, one that transcends constructed identities and allows us to experience God’s presence directly.
As the young man walks away, Jesus turns to His disciples and says, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God.” His words challenge not only wealth but the broader concept of being tied to anything that might compete for our trust in God.
This story asks us to reflect: What are we holding onto that prevents us from stepping fully into the life God offers? For the young man, it was wealth. For us, it may be fear of change, a relationship, the pursuit of success, or even a need for approval. Attachments may fill a temporary void, but they ultimately keep us from recognizing the profound and lasting abundance God has for us.
Jesus’ words about the difficulty for a wealthy person to enter the kingdom invite us to consider the freedom of a life without attachment. When Jesus asks the man to sell his possessions, He isn’t condemning wealth itself; He is inviting the man to a life of detachment—a life where his worth and purpose are not tied to anything external.
In letting go, we make room for something new: a life centered on love, generosity, and trust in God’s provision. Jesus models this throughout His ministry, showing us that a detached heart is not empty but abundantly free. True freedom is being able to let go of what binds us, stepping into the life of surrender, knowing that God will fill us with what we truly need.
Spiritual teachers and mystics often speak of the path to God as a journey of detachment, a series of gentle, often painful, “letting go.” This journey is not about abandoning our responsibilities or denying our loved ones, but about holding all things lightly. When we can live without clutching, we find ourselves more open to God’s grace, more generous with our love, and more compassionate toward others.
In our own lives, the practice of letting go can look like releasing grudges, loosening our grip on how we think things “ought to be,” and freeing ourselves from the need for validation. Jesus’ invitation to the rich man is an invitation to each of us: to surrender our attachments, making space for the abundance and peace that only God can provide.
When the disciples ask, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus reminds them, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” Letting go of attachments is challenging—perhaps even impossible on our own. But the grace of God does what we cannot do alone. Jesus assures us that we are not left to carry this burden alone; the Spirit is with us, transforming our hearts and guiding us toward freedom.
During my first month in Clinical Pastoral Education, our supervisor guided us through a meditation to deeply reflect on life’s values and the impermanence of worldly attachments. Using colored slips of paper, we were instructed first to write down significant possessions, natural treasures, activities, and relationships, each item symbolizing an essential part of our lives.
As the meditation continued, we were invited to imagine discovering a potentially life-threatening illness, which led us to release these slips by crumpling and discarding them, one by one, as we grapple with loss, grief, fear, and acceptance. With each phase in the illness—doctor’s visits, treatments, and the waning support from friends and family—we let go of more slips, symbolizing how illness gradually strips away parts of life’s cherished aspects.
In the final moments, we are asked to relinquish our last slips, symbolizing our last breaths. We are left to contemplate their transition and to reflect on our journey and mortality. This practice encouraged a profound awareness of life’s transience, a letting go of attachments, and a deepened sense of gratitude for the present.
Mystics describe this transformative journey as purgation, a process of purifying the soul by letting go of attachments that cloud our relationship with God. Some refer to this experience as the “Dark Night of the Soul,” a period of profound inner darkness and seeming distance from God. This is a time when God may feel absent, yet it is in this very hiddenness that the divine is at work, preparing the soul for deeper union and spiritual renewal. It’s a journey of trust, as we release what binds us, allowing God to work in unseen and unimaginable ways.
I wonder if we might step into both letting go and receiving from the Holy Spirit, while also giving in a way that invests in a community of love. What attachments might you release today? What would it look like to trust God with the areas of your life where you cling most tightly?
Jesus’ invitation to the young man—and to us—is not to empty our lives, but to fill them with true treasure. May we learn the freedom of detachment and open ourselves to the fullness of God’s love. Amen.