Letting Go of The Right Things

I’ve been there—the one watching the face contort and the brown eyes squeeze out dollop-sized tears and then trying to scoop up strewn marshmallows and tears and flailing boy and console us both. A bowl of marshmallows can be refilled, but he remains unconvinced until the bowl is full. How often do I resemble my son, I wonder, so worried about the marshmallows that I fail to see there is more beyond my vision? That I am perhaps hung up on the wrong things? That sometimes the letting go helps me to grow? That learning what does matter clears my vision to see what doesn’t matter, and letting go of the right things frees me to be who I was meant to be.

Perhaps you too have a bowl full of “marshmallows,” though you may know them by different names. A spotless house, a completed to-do list, a work promotion, a bigger house, space to decompress, being recognized for our help or achievement or originality—these can all become “marshmallows” in our bowl. We are quick to guard the things we think will earn us wholeness and belonging. As research professor and best-selling author Brené Brown concludes from her research, “A deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need of all women, men, and children” (26). Yet in our pursuit of been seen, known, loved, and connected, we sometimes hold onto the wrong things, allowing them to become more important than what we hope to gain through them.

When I loosen my grip on my own bowl of “marshmallows,” I begin to more easily discern what I am actually holding onto. My “marshmallows” have names like being the host that has overlooked nothing, topping my last performance, keeping the peace, being right, making my potluck item or dinner spread all from scratch, and being the first to serve and the last to complain because it hurts less than a sorry. It’s not pretty, but I’m finding that naming the non-pretty is essential to learning to when I am holding onto the wrong things.

With Enneagram-insight, my deep dive into my “marshmallow bowl” becomes even more painfully honest. The Enneagram, for those new to the term, is similar to personality profiling tests, but it zeros in on our core motivations rather than what we display externally. It helps us to better understand how our default way of seeing is simply a lens, not the whole picture. Further, the Enneagram invites us to do the hard work of growing in ways that push against our grain, draw out compassion for others whose core fears are different than our own, and cultivate a tender heart open to the Holy Spirit.

As a Peacemaker (Enneagram 9), I struggle to show up with my vulnerable real. Also in my “bowl of marshmallows” is that I am apt to serve and give and listen—but not always for the right reasons. Too easily picked choices like keeping a mile-wide boundary between me and any sort of conflict and saying yes because a no may make a wave come at a premium price. Self-drawn conclusions that my voice isn’t worth being heard can be tinged with unwelcome resentment. My default to hold onto the wrong things is beyond simply a preference or personality nuance—is it a by-product of beliefs I’ve allowed to define me that are not my true identity.

Perhaps there are faulty beliefs you too have long believed—that you need to earn the right to speak, or strength is never showing weakness, or that your worth is set by how much others need you. You may have believed them so long you can’t separate what you feel about yourself from their undercurrent. These beliefs 100 percent effect you, and we will come back to this, but thinking that our miss-founded beliefs about our identity affect only us is another signal that we are underestimating our value.

You are worth infinitely more than you can imagine. And you owe it to yourself and to all who love you, to the fridge friends, to the neighbors on your block, to the people you have yet to meet or invite in close or notice for the first time—to learn to discern which things to hold tight to and which to let go of.

In last week’s post I shared how we need steady proximity to Jesus in order to imitate Him, and we imitate Him so others may “imitate us as we imitate Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1, GW). Because our identity as Christ-followers entails we share the family mission of being disciples who make disciples who make disciples so God can be glorified all across the earth, our faith is to be personal, but not private. We live out our faith in community, inviting others into a space of proximity where the things God is doing in our lives can rub off on others as we do life with together. Consequentially, when we hang tight to things that God does not say are true of us, these faulty messages about our worth have an effect that ripples out far beyond us.

So, what are some clues that our “marshmallows” are not breathing life into us?

1 – The things I am holding onto are not increasing my peace.

John 14:27, TPT—Jesus’s words spoken deep: “I leave the gift of peace with you—my peace. Not the kind of fragile peace given by the world, but my perfect peace. Don’t yield to fear or be troubled in your hearts—instead, be courageous.” Contrast this with scrambling and hustling to make a name for ourselves or protect the image we project. If what we are clinging to is withering us on the inside instead of filling us with the gift of peace, friends, let it go.

2 – The things I am holding onto are not making me look more like Jesus.

More words from the book of John: “You show that you are my intimate friends when you obey all that I command you” (John 15:14, TPT). Jesus calls us up—up into deeper relationship with and purer reflection of Him. If what we are holding fast to is not drawing us into transforming closeness with the Lord, let’s do the simple yet hard work of loosening our grasp.

3 – The things I am holding onto tell me that my identity has to do with me.

If it can be earned, it’s not our true identity. “He came to save us. Not because of any virtuous deed that we have done but only because of his extravagant mercy,” explains Titus 3:5, TPT). If we are striving for recognition, hyper-sensitively over-overanalyzing our efforts, or shaming ourselves for our failures, it’s time to let go and let God remind us of who He says we are.

When it doesn’t matter is when our eyes look too low, surveying ourselves, our efforts, our standing before men. When it doesn’t matter is when we self-protect, constantly justify, or feel hollow inside. When it doesn’t matter is when we build our own platforms, disengage from community, or strive to be first and best. When it doesn’t matter is when the “marshmallows” in our bowl block from our vision the One waiting intently for us to listen.

And the words He speaks—these are incomparable treasures. Daughter. Son. Chosen. Joint heir. Friend. Justified. Pursued. Redeemed. Holy and beloved.

His voice cuts through the dross to find the true though yet unrefined. It reverberates like music awakening the soul. It draws us to its beauty, beckons us to more. It touches soul-deep, heals layers deeper.

Friends, the “marshmallows” are not even on the same playing field. We forget when we let the time lapse long, when the weight of His glory fades to dream. But return again we can—for this He longs—because, as Jason Upton sings, “In the silence / You are speaking / In the quiet I can feel the fire / And it’s burning, burning deeply / Burning all it is that You desire to be silent, in me” (“In the Silence”).

He wants us to be free, and that’s why He calls us to Himself. He sees us burdened, broken, alone, afraid—and He desires to replace our “marshmallows” with a fire to pursue simply, solely Him.

Prayer: Letting Go of the Right Things

Father, You say we are enough, not because of us, but because of You.

You know our motives. Help us to name them too.

Grant us the courage to walk away from our “bowls of marshmallows” and pursue You instead.

Brown, Brené. The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are. Hazelden, 2010.,

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