Idolatry is relational poison of the heart. As such, it is the opposite of love for God, neighbor, and oneself.
When anything becomes more essential to us than God—even if “anything” is itself a good thing—it becomes as a poison. It becomes to us an idol, a false deity, a a controlling functional lord, an impotent messiah, a pretend Jesus. According to God, who is our true and everlasting Husband, we become spiritual adulterers.
An idol is any person or idea, any created thing that captures our deepest affections and loyalties and will, and in doing so steals our attention from God. An idol is anything that has become more precious to us than he. It’s not that we love the thing too much, but rather that we love God too little in comparison to it.
I want to explain to my husband how, with every passing day that I am a mother, I feel the joy and the pain of letting go in a thousand, tiny increments.
I want to tell him how, as a mother, I live daily in the space between joy and grief. I want to tell him how, with every passing landmark of their childhood, I feel a little more disoriented. I keep pulling out the map, trying to locate where we are.