You may be familiar with Lord Acton’s words, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Acton wrote those words in the nineteenth century, but they feel just as relevant (maybe more) today. You would be hard pressed to find a person who didn’t agree that we have a problem of power in our world. We see power abused for selfish gain, we see ugly conflict over power struggles, and we see authority figures harming those they are supposed to protect.
The problem is that we cannot just do away with power completely. The removal of those abusing power requires force, and assuming such a takedown of tyrants is successful, the void left must be filled. It will either be filled by one who uses power benevolently or another tyrant.
As author NT Wright points out, the struggle in Iraq in 2003-2004 provides an apt example. The tyrannical reign of Saddam Hussein was ended by U.S. troops, but no better replacement was set up. Therefore, the situation for the citizens of Iraq may have become worse after Hussein was overthrown because chaos and anarchy ruled instead, which most often means the weakest members of society suffer the most.[1]
From this, most can agree on at least these two basic things about power:
- We need people in positions of authority.
- Those people should use their positions for the good of those under their authority, instead of abusing their power for selfish gain.
The fact is that we don’t even have to look to major events like the one in Iraq or the injustices we observe in the United States to know that power is an inescapable reality fraught with potential pitfalls. If we’re honest, we could identify situations in our lives every day where we want to be in control. We have an idea of how things should be (both good and bad), and since no one else seems to be realizing them, we feel we should be placed in control to make it happen.
The situation regarding power can feel so bleak at times that new ideas for redeeming it can feel futile. The conception of power that the gospel provides, however, is so counterintuitive, so paradoxical in nature, it warrants at least brief consideration.
A Paradox
The gospel of Mark repeatedly recounts stories in which Jesus heals someone or provides some other miraculous sign and then immediately tells the person he healed (or the person who witnessed the miracle) not to tell a soul about it. This feels totally counter-intuitive in our world where influencers and creating a platform and an audience are so commonplace. Why would Jesus do this? Because he was changing people’s conceptions about power. He was redefining power itself. [2]
You see, the Jewish people had long been expecting a Messiah, a king to come and set up a military force to overthrow Rome and reestablish the nation of Israel. Had Jesus spread his fame and influence all over the world through his miracles, the Jews would have tried to make him their king right away. In fact, they did try to do that at one point (John 6:15). But that was not Jesus’ mission. He did come to set up a kingdom but in a different way.
We know this because the people closest to Jesus–his disciples–had to learn this lesson the hard way, and Jesus gave them an explicit explanation. Still thinking that Jesus was one day going to be king, two of Jesus’ disciples–James and John–asked to be placed in places of glory when he assumed his throne. The other disciples were miffed by this, probably because they wanted to be the ones in glory instead. As they were arguing about it, Jesus called them over and says,
“You know that those who are considered rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you. But whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave [or servant] of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:42–45)
Jesus was essentially saying that in his kingdom, in order to be great, in order to have true power, one must serve others and seek their good. Only one who is concerned for the good of others is worthy of a position of power. Moreover, Jesus showed himself to be the only one undeniably worthy of that power by revealing that he would die for the ultimate good of others—even for the good of those killing him.
He confirmed this later on when he was brought on trial before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor at the time. Pilate would have certainly been intrigued, concerned, and probably angry about this one whom people were calling the king. Jesus was, after all, teaching not about Pilate’s kingdom but about his own. That was blasphemy in Rome at the time. In response to Pilate’s interrogation, Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world” (John 18:36).
Just previously, Peter (one of Jesus’ disciples) had cut off the ear of a man with a sword who was trying to arrest Jesus. Jesus told Peter to put his sword away, and then Jesus healed the man Peter wounded. When Jesus said that his kingdom would come in a different way than by brute force, he meant it.
So if Jesus’ kingdom does not come through violence, how does it come? As Jesus alluded to in his rebuke of James and John’s request for power, it comes through love. In a moving scene in John 13 where Jesus stooped to wash his disciples’ feet, we read,
“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him. (John 13:3–5)
Jesus knew that all the power in the world was his for the taking. Yet instead of leveraging his power for his own selfish gain, he used it to serve. As he would go on to explain, washing the disciples’ feet was a metaphor for the death he was about to die so that they would one day be liberated from all the abuses of power that exist both in this world and in their own hearts, if only they would believe in him. This simple act of service pictured the ultimate act of service.
The same is true for you and me. By raising from the dead after his crucifixion, Jesus proved that all things truly had been given into his hands—even death. Jesus overcame the only power no one has ever been able to escape, and he did it so that those who trust in him and his power will be raised from the dead one day, too. His power is directed toward us for our ultimate good. Jesus doesn’t overcome evil power the way we would expect him to, but he does overcome it. And he does it in a way that proves we can trust him.
To know that someone is all-powerful is of no comfort to us, because they could use their power to harm us. But to know that someone is all-powerful and has proven unequivocally that they will use their power for our good—that is of great comfort to us. Indeed, there is no greater comfort or assurance.
This is what we know of Jesus. This is the paradox of power he gives us in the gospel. And it proves that he is worthy of our trust and therefore worth following.
[1] Broken Signposts, 162.
[2] Ibid.