When God Removes What We’ve Been Worshiping
There’s a peculiar ache that comes when something we’ve built our life around suddenly disappears. A relationship ends. A dream dies. A scholarship is lost. A position we fought for slips through our fingers. Children we raised and gave everything for grow up and move away. The comfort we once found in something evaporates overnight.
And in that hollow space, we discover something unsettling: we’re not just sad. We’re lost.
That’s the moment we realize we’ve been worshiping at an altar we didn’t even know we’d built.
Hidden Idols
The quickest way to recognize an idol in your life is to notice your response when it’s taken away. Not just disappointment—but devastation. Not just grief—but a crisis of identity. Not just loss—but the terrifying sensation that the ground beneath your feet has vanished entirely.
Because idols don’t always look like golden statues or obvious sins. Sometimes they wear the disguise of good things: dreams we’ve chased, people we’ve loved, security we’ve worked for, or comfort we’ve earned. The danger isn’t in the thing itself, but in the throne we’ve given it in our hearts.
As the prophet Ezekiel warned God’s people: “Son of man, these men have set up idols in their hearts and put wicked stumbling blocks before their faces” (Ezekiel 14:3). The idols were internal, invisible—until they were threatened.
The Mercy Hidden in the Loss
Here’s what we often miss in our pain: when God removes what we’ve been clinging to, it’s not cruelty. It’s rescue.
God will remove what we’ve been clinging to so we can finally see what’s been quietly taking His place in our hearts. Sometimes this is sudden and other times slowly. He loves us too much to let us worship anything less than Him. He’s too jealous for our souls to share His throne with our temporary treasures.
The Israelites learned this the hard way. They wanted a king like the other nations had, and God gave them Saul—then let them experience the heartbreak of trusting in human leadership. They built their confidence on military might, and God allowed their armies to fail so they’d remember where true strength comes from.
“Those who cling to worthless idols turn away from God’s love for them” (Jonah 2:8). Every moment we spend bowing to lesser things is a moment we miss the faithful love of the One who never wavers, never leaves, never fails.
The Revelation in the Rubble
It’s not easy, this discovery. Because idols don’t always look like statues, and they rarely announce themselves. Sometimes they look like:
- The dream that became more important than the Dream Giver
- The person whose approval we needed more than God’s
- The position that defined us more than our identity in Christ
- The comfort that numbed us more than His presence fulfilled us
- The control we grasped more tightly than His sovereignty
But here’s the holy paradox: the moment something shakes and we feel lost without it, that’s when God gently reveals what we’ve begun to worship. The pain is actually an invitation. A doorway back to the only One who deserves our whole heart.
“You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3) wasn’t a restriction—it was protection. Because everything else will eventually fail us, leave us, or be torn from our hands. Only God remains.
Returning to the One Who Never Changes
If it hurts when it’s taken away, let that pain become a holy invitation to return to the One who never changes. The One who gives and takes away, but always—always—for our good and His glory.
David understood this when he wrote, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:25-26).
Everything else will fade. Everything else will fail. Our flesh and hearts will give out. But God? He remains the strength of our hearts when everything else crumbles.
The Prayer of Surrender
This is the courageous prayer: “Lord, strip away every idol until all that’s left is You.”
It’s terrifying to pray it. Because we know—we know—that He’ll answer. And the stripping away will hurt. The removal will sting. The loss will leave us gasping.
But here’s what we discover in the aftermath: in losing what we thought we needed, we might just find what our souls were truly made for. Not the dream, but the Dream Giver. Not the person, but the Person of Christ. Not the comfort, but the Comforter. Not the position, but our position in Him.
As Paul declared with hard-won wisdom: “But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ” (Philippians 3:7-8).
The Only Worthy Throne
The One who gives and takes away is the same One who loved you before you achieved anything, who’ll love you after everything is stripped away, who loves you not for what you bring but simply because you’re His.
He’s the God who doesn’t change with your circumstances. Who doesn’t waver with your performance. Who doesn’t disappear when your props are removed.
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).
Everything else will shift. Everything else will shake. Everything else will eventually be taken away—if not in this life, then certainly when we step into eternity and only what’s eternal remains.
So let the shaking come. Let the idols fall. Let the false securities crumble.
Because in losing what we thought we needed, we’re finally free to receive what we were made for: the unchanging, unfailing, all-satisfying love of God Himself.
May we have the courage to say, “Lord, strip away every idol until all that’s left is You.” Because in losing what we thought we needed, we might just find what our souls were truly made for—Him.