Scripture: “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor… then come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21)
Mel Robbins (Chapter 2): “Detachment is not the same as indifference. It is loving someone without needing to control them.”
It is ok to let people go.
It might hurt like hell, but – there are no spiritual promises that life is supposed to be easy.
Robbins teaches about this thing called “detachment.”
Sounds harsh. And cold.
It could even seem as if we are giving up or cutting someone off from our love.
For many raised in religious spaces where love was supposed to look like constant presence, constant effort, constant sacrifice—it can even feel wrong to back off.
But detachment—the healthy kind—isn’t rejection.
It’s not indifference. And it certainly isn’t wrong.
It’s love without strings.
Mel Robbins describes detachment as the ability to care deeply without needing to control the outcome.
Which might sound easy, but like we said in yesterday’s meditation, it’s easy to talk about, not so easy to do. Because when the outcome is not what we want it to be, there is pain associated with that.
Our pain.
And last time I checked, we typically try to avoid that at all costs.
But – what if we frame this with a different perspective?
What if we learn to see that detachment is staying grounded in our own peace instead of getting yanked around by someone else’s stuff?
It’s being able to say, “I love you… and I’m not going to carry what isn’t mine. This is yours. I love you. I respect you. I honor what you need. And . . . here is what I need.” Then – you have the opportunity to set boundaries. Healthy ones.
That’s exactly what Jesus modeled with the rich young ruler.
He looked at the man—really looked—and loved him.
Then he offered an invitation.
And when the man said no?
Jesus didn’t take it personally.
Didn’t emotionally collapse.
Didn’t try to renegotiate the terms.
He loved… and let go.
That’s what real detachment looks like.
We struggle with this, don’t we?
When someone we love is hurting, stuck, spiraling, or self-sabotaging, we want to jump in and fix it.
We want to rewrite the ending.
We want to make the choice for them.
But every time we try to take responsibility for someone else’s healing, we lose access to our own.
Buddhist philosophy calls it “non-attachment”—the practice of releasing our grip on people, outcomes, and identities we can’t control. Stoicism echoes the same: focus on what is yours to carry and let the rest go.
Jesus practiced it long before anyone named it.
He never stopped loving the man.
He just didn’t chase him.
Who are you chasing? Is it time to “let them?”
Thought to Ponder:
Where are you loving with strings attached? What would it look like to shift into a posture of open-handed love—where you show up with compassion, but stop trying to carry and control what isn’t yours?
Grace and Peace,
Andrea