The quiet ways we trade our identity away
The Subtle Shape of Idolatry
It’s interesting that the word idol sounds so much like idle which means to be useless, inactive, or without purpose. That similarity feels ironic, because many of the idols in our lives do just that, they pull us away from what truly matters and leave us emotionally or spiritually stagnant.
In our modern world, we often make idols out of the things we love and care about. As a massive comic book fan and someone who enjoys reading, I get excited about adding to my collections be it figurines, statues, or memorabilia that reflect the stories and characters I admire. If I have a book collection, you can bet I’ve either bought or made something that resembles the story and proudly placed it alongside the books in my library.
But when I talk about idols, I’m not just talking about stuff you collect or decorate your shelves with. I mean how we start embodying what we idolize. Take someone who’s super into politics or social justice, they might change their whole vibe, their tone, even how they dress to fit that narrative. And sometimes, when you talk to them, it’s hard to see who they are beyond that one issue or identity.
Becoming the things we worship
Currently, with all the interviews, podcasts, and social media content, there’s a big push to “humanize” public figures like celebrities, politicians, influencers. And honestly, I like the idea behind that. It takes them off the pedestal and reminds us that they are just people. It’s kind of funny when you hear, “Wait, they eat toast like us!” or “They can’t do their own chores!” That whole mystic aura starts to fade, and, in a way, it makes it seem weird to worship them.
But sometimes, that humanizing effect backfires. Instead of pulling back, people lean in deeper. Because now their “hero” is relatable just a regular person like me and the worship becomes even more intense. The line between admiration and obsession gets blurry fast.
And that’s what saddens me. You can admire someone, sure. But worshipping them? That says more about us than it does about them. A celebrity wears something—it sells out. They share a political view and suddenly, that’s the right opinion. It’s like we’re outsourcing our thoughts and identity.
When good things become God things
We do this with things real or imagined. We trade little parts of ourselves to feel like we belong to something. And to be clear—having interests doesn’t make something an idol. But if it starts dictating your decisions, your time, your emotions? Then yeah, it probably is one.
For example: I like Batman. I’ve got comics, statues, cute little figurines my friends know it’s my thing. But it doesn’t define me. I don’t talk about it every day. In fact, there’ve been times when I’ve let go of things I loved because I realized they were taking up too much space mentally, emotionally, spiritually. And when something starts pulling me away from the one, I love, it must go.
Idolatry doesn’t always show up in dramatic ways. One of the more subtle forms I’ve noticed—especially while studying politics—is how people turn ideologies into idols. It’s not about healthy conviction anymore. It becomes moral superiority. And in the process, empathy disappears. People stop listening. They just parrot the opinions that make them feel smart, or safe, or “right.”
The reflections of Stanley cups
In a perfect world, our interests would just be accessories, parts of us, but not us. But what I see more often is people “Frankensteining” themselves. Cutting off parts that were once full of life and replacing them with whatever they’re obsessed with.
It’s not just you who loses something in that process-your family, your friends, your community, they lose you too. You slowly become a shell of who you used to be, shaped more by trends or tribes than truth. The way you think, speak, dress—it starts mirroring what you worship.
(And if you want a weird but perfect example of how deep this run: look at the Stanley Cup water bottle craze. People camping out, fighting over colours, hoarding ten of them “just in case.” It’s not about hydration anymore. It’s identity. A $40 bottle became a lifestyle badge.)
The truth is none of us are promised tomorrow. And when that moment comes—when you’re facing the end—your favourite influencer, fictional character, or political hero won’t be there to hold your hand. So, the question becomes: What have we done with the time we were given? Have we spent more of it scrolling and collecting and comparing than connecting with the people who love us?
That’s the real tragedy of idolatry; it doesn’t just take your time. It takes you and if you are not careful, you won’t even notice you’re gone.
ArrowsInk 