Rethinking Power, Part Five: The God Powerful Enough to Risk Rejection

Is Love That Cannot Be Refused Really Love?

Power and authority are like weapons—they can be wielded for good, withheld from proper uses, or utilized for evil. All too often, humans choose to exert strength and authority over others to control and manipulate.

Interestingly, God—who possesses all authority—often chooses to limit his own exercise of power in ways that we would not expect. 

Why? Perhaps the answer lies not in his use—or restraint— of power, but in the nature of his love. He created a world in which love can be rejected. By allowing us to choose to love—or not—he voluntarily refrains from exercising his power coercively, while at the same time, making it possible for us to demonstrate, experience, and enjoy genuine love.

We can see why this matters when we compare it to what the alternative would be. If God’s goal were simply submission rather than love he might demand to be loved, in the same way the authoritarian expects and demands loyalty. This renders disingenuous any love shown.

To illustrate, consider this story: A wealthy grandfather longs for a relationship with his granddaughter. She rarely visits. As her high school graduation approaches, he writes: "I'd like to pay for your college education." She writes back. "Thank you. Please mail the check." His reply comes quickly. "The check is waiting here. You'll need to come see me."

On the surface, it seems generous, but beneath the gift lies a demand. The money isn't simply a gift. It's leverage.

The granddaughter now faces an uncomfortable question: "Does he want me? Or does he simply want the appearance of being loved?" Money can purchase a visit. It cannot purchase affection.

Love compelled by power isn't love at all.

Imagine building a robot. You program it to tell you every morning, "I love you." It smiles. It hugs you. It obeys every command.

Has anything resembling love actually occurred? Or has the machine simply executed code?

If love cannot be refused, can it really be called love?

From a theological point of view, the question might be:

If God desired creatures who could genuinely love him, could he have created them incapable of saying no? 

The opening chapters of Genesis contain one of Scripture's greatest mysteries. God places two trees in the garden.

One offers life; the other offers the knowledge of good and evil. He warns Adam and Eve not to eat from the second tree, giving them the choice of not remaining in his love and protection.

Why place the second tree there at all? Scripture doesn’t fully explain, but if love requires genuine freedom, its presence begins to make profound sense. Perhaps the possibility of saying "no" is inseparable from the possibility of saying "yes." A world without choice could produce obedience. It could never produce love.

From the beginning, God risks rejection. Throughout Scripture he continues taking that risk. Israel rejects him. Prophets are ignored. Jesus is rejected and crucified. The Holy Spirit is resisted.

Nowhere is God's willingness to risk rejection seen more clearly than at the cross. Rather than overwhelming humanity with irresistible power, Christ entered our world in vulnerability. He healed, taught, forgave, and loved—even knowing many would reject him. The cross is not simply the price of human freedom; it is the clearest revelation of a God whose power is expressed through love and service.

At every point, God invites, persuades, woos, waits, warns. Throughout Scripture, his primary posture is invitation rather than coercion.

God’s Grace Goes Before Us, Is All Around Us, and Works Within Us

God’s grace is always at work. In the Methodist tradition, we speak of prevenient grace. Prevenient comes from a Latin word meaning “to come before, to anticipate.” According to John Wesley, this speaks of God’s grace that goes before us.

We begin not with what we have done, but with what God has already done for us. Before we understand, before we can name it, before we even know how to respond, God’s grace is already at work—seeking us, welcoming us, drawing us into life. (“What Does It Mean to Believe in God & One Another.” UMC Discipleship Ministries)

God’s love is all around. It invites. It waits. Yet it does not imprison.

This has profound implications for how we build churches, communities, and nations.

Authoritarian systems share at least one assumption: People can be made good— or manipulated to be useful to malevolent dictators—through coercion or control.

God’s kingdom assumes something very different: People become good when they choose to love others rather than to manipulate and control.

Perhaps America’s greatest strength is that it is based on the premise that citizens who choose responsibility and service will form a “more perfect union.” Self-government depends upon people who willingly practice virtue rather than having virtue imposed upon them.

Freedom is risky. People make bad choices. But removing freedom doesn’t create love; it merely creates obedience.

FOR REFLECTION

Consider the statement: “Politics is just another word for how we treat our neighbors?” If this appeals to you, how would your politics be different? How would this affect how you view your neighbor?

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER

• Where in your life are you tempted to control rather than love?

• Can genuine faith exist if it is compelled?

• How do we encourage virtue without demanding conformity?

• What might change if we treated freedom not merely as a political right but as one of God's gifts?

CALL TO ACTION

This week, notice one conversation in which you feel the urge to win. Instead of overpowering, ask another question. Listen a little longer. Ask yourself in the moment: How can I respect the other person’s freedom?

A Conversation Beyond Christianity

While this Pilgrim Note reflects my understanding of the Christian story, many people of other faiths—and many with no religious faith at all—also believe that human beings are entrusted with responsibilities that extend beyond themselves.

Jews speak of helping repair the world. Muslims describe humanity as stewards of creation. Others find similar callings through different traditions or through a shared commitment to the common good.

Wherever we begin, perhaps we can ask the same question:

What kind of people must we become if we hope to leave our communities better than we found them?

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