In age of worldwide turbulence, recent report reframes power through a biblical lens

As geopolitical tensions escalate and public trust in institutions continues to erode, a recent theological report is offering a fresh perspective to each Christians – and non-Christians alike – on one of the contested concepts of our time: power.

A Theology of Power, published by Theos think tank last month in collaboration with Christian Aid and authored by theologians Madeleine Pennington and Paul Bickley, explores how the Bible frames power – not as something inherently corrupt, but as a divine gift that may either be stewarded properly or disastrously misused.

At a time when global headlines are dominated by military aggression, nationalist rhetoric and what many describe as a fading “rules-based order,” questions on who holds power and the way they use it have change into increasingly urgent.

The Prime Minister of Canada, Mark Carney, recently remarked on the World Economic Forum that the world appears to be entering “an era of great power rivalry” where “the strong can do what they will, and the weak must suffer what they need to.”

Yet the report argues that instinctive suspicion toward power, while comprehensible, tells only half the story.

Western societies have grown deeply wary of authority. From political corruption and company scandals to institutional racism and clerical abuse crises inside churches, the misuse of power has left scars. 

In response, many have adopted what the authors describe as a “hermeneutic of suspicion”- equating power domination, coercion, and elite self-interest. But Pennington and Bickley suggest that retreating from power altogether is neither realistic nor faithful.

“Trying to avoid power,” they argue, “isn’t all the time a superb thing.”

Refusing responsibility, neglecting justice, or failing to guard the vulnerable could be as harmful as overt abuse. Instead, the report proposes a more nuanced theological framework – one which recognises power as each crucial and accountable.

Rather than starting with politics, Pennington and Bickley trace the concept of power at the center of Scripture.

In the opening chapters of Genesis, power is first revealed not as coercion but as creativity – God brings order out of chaos, life out of nothing. Creation itself is presented as an act of generous strength. From this attitude, power is fundamentally relational and life-giving. Humanity is entrusted with “dominion” over creation – not as tyrants, but as stewards bearing God’s image. 

Even spiritual beings are depicted in Scripture as sharing delegated authority. But delegation introduces risk. The biblical narrative quickly records repeated failures: revolt in Eden, violence in early humanity, the arrogance of Babel, and later the corruption of Israel’s kings. Again and again, power drifts from stewardship into domination.

Throughout the Old Testament, prophets condemn not power itself but its distortion – idolatry, political and social oppression of the poor, and the concentration of authority without accountability.

If the Hebrew Scriptures establish power as divine gift and human responsibility, the New Testament reshapes the conversation even further. The Greek vocabulary used to explain Jesus’ authority – terms comparable to ‘dunamis’ (dynamic, power) and ‘exousia’ (authority or rightful jurisdiction) – points not only to miracles but to a divine dimension entering human history. Yet probably the most startling claim of the Christian message is that true power is revealed in apparent weakness.

Paul’s assertion that God’s power is “made perfect in weakness” overturns conventional assumptions. The crucifixion, a type of execution designed to display imperial dominance, becomes, in Christian theology, the decisive moment of divine victory.

The resurrection confirms not domination but sacrificial love as the last word force in history. Philippians 2 describes Christ “emptying himself” and being exalted precisely due to that humility. Power, the report argues, isn’t abolished but redeemed.

The authors also engage with Paul’s references to “powers and dominions” – a phrase variously interpreted as spiritual forces, political systems, or each.

While debate continues over how literally these needs to be read, the report maintains a balanced view: structures of authority are a part of creation, but they will change into distorted after they elevate themselves above God’s purposes. Christ, they argue, doesn’t destroy power but “disarms” its pretensions.

The struggle between rightful authority and corrupted power continues, as Christ’s conquer the powers has been secured, yet the whole restoration of creation stays to be realised.

Crucially, A Theology of Power doesn’t advocate withdrawal from political or institutional life. The New Testament, the authors note, affirms governance, leadership and the responsible use of resources. Christians are instructed to respect authorities and steward their gifts properly.

At the identical time, the authors emphasise 4 guardrails: all authority is ultimately obtained from God; leaders and institutions are all the time at risk of corruption; Christian leadership have to be marked by humility and repair slightly than dominance; and lasting change often unfolds step by step and persistently, like yeast working through dough or a mustard seed growing into something far larger than its beginnings suggest. 

In this framework, power is neither idolised nor rejected, but exercised with accountability, love and submission to God’s purposes.

The report closes with a challenge aimed particularly at contemporary Christians, who often hold roles of great economic, social and political influence.

In contrast to early believers living under persecution, many believers today hold considerable power.

The query, due to this fact, isn’t whether power needs to be rejected, but the way it needs to be wielded.

The authors conclude: “Power isn’t inherently negative … power is given for a purpose, and will likely be judged.”

In an era marked by rivalry and distrust, A Theology of Power invites readers to assume a unique narrative: one where strength is measured not by coercion, but by “righteousness, self-control and judgement to return.”