Power Corrupts: And Christians Keep Forgetting That

Power is a funny thing.

Not funny-ha-ha, but funny in that it always seems to change people, and not usually for the better. We’ve watched it twist people we love into combative, hardened versions of themselves. And the wild part? They don't even see it. They say they're just finally "speaking the truth." But it's not the Spirit's truth. It's something else; louder, angrier, more controlling.

Let's just say it plainly: power corrupts. And Christians keep forgetting that.

This isn't new. It's ancient. It's baked into the human condition, and God told us from the beginning.

When Israel asked for a king in 1 Samuel 8, God didn't celebrate their desire to build a stronger nation. He warned them.

"This is how a king will reign over you,” Samuel said. “He will draft your sons... take your daughters… take away the best of your fields… demand a tenth... And when that day comes, you will beg for relief from this king you are demanding, but then the Lord will not help you.” But the people refused to listen to Samuel's warning. "Even so, we still want a king," they said. —1 Samuel 8:11–19 (NLT, selected)

They no longer wanted to be a set-apart people. They wanted to be like the other nations. And God allowed it, even though it grieved Him. (see Hosea 11) Right before Samuel gave this warning, the Lord told him, "...they are rejecting me, not you. They don't want me to be their king any longer."

Or later in Ezekiel 34, when God called Israel’s leaders to account for feeding themselves instead of "the flock." He said:

“You take the milk, the wool, the best animals—but let the flock starve. You ignore the weak and rule them with cruelty.” —Ezekiel 34:3–4 (NLT, condensed)

Then he judges them:

This is what the Sovereign Lord says: I now consider these shepherds my enemies, and I will hold them responsible for what has happened to my flock. —Ezekiel 34:10 

Fast forward to Jesus, who was tempted in the wilderness in Matthew 4. Satan offers Him all the kingdoms of the world if He'll just bow down. And Jesus says no.

He walks away from the thing we keep chasing. His kingdom is not of this world. Not because He doesn't care about this world but because His power looks nothing like ours.

When the Church Gains Power

The early Church had no political influence, no army, and no voting power, yet it spread like wildfire because of the radical love of its people. But once Constantine legalized Christianity and gave it imperial backing, something changed. The Church stopped being a persecuted minority and became the ruling class. And we've been wrestling with that shadow ever since.

Let's be honest. Nearly every time the institutional Church has held significant political power, atrocities "in the name of Jesus" have followed. 

• The Crusades weren't about loving our neighbor.
• Colonization wasn't about making disciples. It was about domination.
• Slavery was defended from pulpits.
• Residential schools in Canada and the U.S. were run by churches trying to "civilize" native children by erasing their families.

I know, I know—there were exceptions. Not everyone bought into the power game. There were monks who cared for the sick, reformers like Bartolomé de las Casas who spoke truth to kings, and abolitionists who challenged the system. But let's not pretend those were the norm. They were the minority voices trying to call the Church back to Jesus.

And now, in America, we're doing it again.

Same Game, New Jersey

This time, it’s campaign rallies and holy wars fought in comment sections. The Church today is so afraid of losing influence that we've made peace with doing things Jesus never blessed as long as it "gets results." Christians justify cruelty for the sake of "the good of the nation." They ignore corruption and defend the powerful, while silencing the vulnerable. And all the while, they claim they're fighting for Jesus.

But it looks nothing like Him.

Jesus laid down power. We keep grabbing for it.

Jesus emptied Himself. We puff ourselves up.

Jesus washed feet. We scream into microphones.

Jesus was crucified by the empire. We cozy up to it.

It's not just a bad look. It's a total departure from the gospel.

What Kind of People Are We Becoming?

Paul gives us a gut check in Galatians 5:

When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, sorcery, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, dissension, division… —Galatians 5:19–20

Sound familiar?

But then he describes what the Spirit actually produces:

But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. —Galatians 5:22–23

Which list are you producing more of? Imagine if the loudest Christians looked more like the second one… Or in 2 Timothy 3, Paul warns of a different pattern:

You should know this, Timothy, that in the last days there will be very difficult times. For people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud… They will act religious, but they will reject the power that could make them godly. Stay away from people like that! —2 Timothy 3:1–2a, 5

Power, in human hands, almost always turns ugly. But in Jesus' hands, it looks like service. Surrender. Sacrifice.

Not So With You

In Mark 10, Jesus tells His disciples that the rulers of the Gentiles love to lord their power over people—but "not so with you."

"But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be the slave of everyone else. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many." —Mark 10:43–45

That's kingdom logic. And it doesn't win elections. But it might just save your soul.

The Cross is not a tool of domination. It's the end of the power game altogether. It's where God shows us that victory looks like vulnerability, that love is stronger than hate, and that resurrection comes from surrender, not conquest.

So What Now?

I'm not writing this because I've figured it out. I haven't. I feel the pull of influence and platform just like anyone else. I want to be heard. I want to be right. I want to see the world made whole. And I'm tempted to think that can only happen if people start listening to me.

But then I look at Jesus. The one who shows up in Revelation more often as a slaughtered lamb than a crusader. He didn't conquer Rome. He let Rome kill Him.

And somehow, that is how the world began to change.

I no longer trust the kind of power the world offers. I trust the King who said, “Not so with you.” I trust the stories of people who would rather die than bow to Caesar.

And I’m trying, imperfectly and slowly, to reject the lust for power I was born with and follow Him there.

Jesus is Lord. And President—I mean, Caesar—is not.

From the March,

R.A. Fen