Power Wins.

Until it doesn’t.

You must have heard it, seen it on television - or at least, read it; “We live in a world… governed by strength, governed by force, governed by power.” Deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller speaking on behalf of the President of the United States of America. #Other comments are available.

And looking at the the seeming release of the four horses of the apocalypse by the occupier of Mar-a-Lago it sounds about right, doesn’t it? Feels like something Sun Tzu might nod at. Or Colin Powell. It’s certainly the provocative kind of thing you’d hear in a war room. It’s the voice of experience, hardened by reality. And plenty of people hear that and may think, “Finally - someone telling it like it is.”

But let’s be honest. What we often call “realism” is just surrender dressed up as wisdom. It’s the quiet decision to let the world stay broken and impose... That’s not insight. It’s just giving up on the idea that God still runs the place - not that everyone in the war rooms knows or appreciates that.

And Rome, they thought they were the greatest empire ever. Ever. Nobody like them. They said it all the time. The strongest. The smartest. Tremendous power. People were talking about it constantly. Everyone knew it. Or so they thought.

But Jesus saw right through it. He always does. Judea wasn’t safe, the kingdom didn’t come wrapped in comfort and yet, He stood there - eye to eye with the crowd and said the unexpected, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

Not the muscle-bound. Not the PR-savvy. Not the ones who win or fix the the vote or who own the algorithm.

The meek.

Meekness doesn’t mean you roll over. It’s not spiritual timidity. This isn’t Jesus with a clipboard. It’s Jesus with scars. Meekness means you’ve got strength, but it’s harnessed. It’s courage that doesn’t shout. Power that doesn’t need to prove itself. The meek don’t grab the world by force. They know who it belongs to, and they wait for Him to hand it over.

Jesus modelled that. When they tried to crown Him by force, He unceremoniously just walked away from them. Later, w\hen Peter having hear all that Jesus began to do and teach reached for the sword, Jesus told him to put it down. Finally, when after being beaten and whipped Jesus stood before Pilate, His fate seemingly in Pilate’s hands He didn’t reach for power. He spoke the truth, and let His Father decide the outcome.

That’s not just restraint. That’s kingdom confidence.

The world puts its faith in missiles, markets, and men with microphones. The church looks to a crucified King. It looks back on Psalm 20 asserting with confidence, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”

And the cross? It wasn’t an interruption to the mission. It was the mission. Rome flexed everything it had. It looked like the end. But it wasn’t. It was God, using surrender to conquer what force never could. Christ did not fail to overpower evil. He crushed it by enduring it.

And here’s where it engages us. When the church starts thinking we need to match the world’s power, play its game, speak its language - we lose more than our credibility. We totally lose the plot. The message gets shaped by ‘what works’, not by what’s true.

There’s nothing wrong with strength, but if it hasn’t been to the cross, if it hasn’t died there first, it’s not safe. The way of Jesus doesn’t sit alongside other strategies. It’s not one option on the table. It is the table.

So when someone says, “Power runs the world,” you don’t have to argue. Just look around. Ask yourself - who’s still standing when the dust settles? Who holds the earth? And then walk out and engage the world like you believe it.