What is Your Narrative Around Power?
Ann Garrido
How do you feel when I call you a “person with power”? Excited? Nervous? Alarmed? Maybe you want to turn your head and see who is standing behind you because, surely, I can’t be talking to you. You are someone who struggles to make change happen. There are all these things you can’t do. Shouldn’t I instead be talking to the bishop, the CEO, the social media influencer with thousands of followers?
Over the past two years, I have. I’ve interviewed at length nearly fifty influential Christian leaders, and they feel much the same way as you. And much the same way as the those you work with as a counselor, spiritual director, or formator. It turns out even the bishop is a bit uneasy being labeled a “person with power.”
Psychology tells us that narratives are exceedingly important, and part of the unease we feel when asked this question might be attributed to the narratives our society holds around power. Many of us have grown up believing that power is inherently manipulative, even abusive. It perpetuates inequalities and fosters violence. In the oft-quoted words of Lord Acton, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Who wants to be associated with something so dangerous? And so we deny that we have it. We avoid exercising it. We tell others “the buck stops over there.” But when we avoid exercising power, changes that we could actually make happen—changes that protect the vulnerable, that create a more just society, that promote the common good—are not even attempted. Rather than acting generously, straightforwardly, and optimistically (all behaviors associated with people who feel powerful), we hold tight to what we have, shy away from confrontation, and become more defensive (all behaviors associated with people who feel powerless).[i] Indeed the possibility for abuse becomes even more likely as the most egregious behaviors are often exhibited by those who objectively-speaking do have power but subjectively don’t believe they do and act as if they do not.
The true challenge facing both us and those we serve is how to use the power that is ours in healthy and holy ways. Such a quest begins by developing a more positive of narrative around power.
As those who work at the intersection of psychology and religion, we recognize that faith traditions can often provide meaningful alternative narratives to those provided by the wider culture. The Judeo-Christian tradition provides such an alternative narrative in the very first chapters of the very first book of the Bible. The two creation stories that open Genesis were likely scribed in the “post-exilic” period of Israel’s history (around 500 BCE). They use symbols and tropes common to other creation myths from the ancient Near East at that time, but their message is strikingly different.
In contrast to popular creation stories in the wider region that tell of multiple gods in violent competition with one another, the biblical creation stories present one God whose power is so great and abundant that it has no rival and fears no threat. Rather than entering into battle, God simply needs to speak for things to come into being. And, in contrast to the more well-known creation stories of the time that identify human beings as playthings of the gods, created to function as the gods’ kitchen servants, the biblical creation stories talk of human beings made in God’s own image, meant to serve as God’s representatives on earth and engaging in the same kinds of power that God exercises (speaking, working, convening, judging, etc.) In the Bible, humans do not prepare food for the gods. God provides food—indeed an entire garden—just for them. Finally, in contrast to their neighbors’ stories in which time cycles continuously with no real purpose or end, the biblical creation stories speak of a “seventh day” of harmony and peace. The human exercise of power or “dominion” is not meant to be an end in itself but a way of moving history forward toward that seventh day. Human dominion is about the nurturing of our common “domus”—making for all things a “home.”
Historically, the biblical creation stories certainly have been interpreted in ways that are problematic (i.e. justifying harm to the created world and the subjugation of women). Engaged rightly, however, they have the potential to serve as a corrective to contemporary narratives around power that only see it as a negative and something to be avoided.
Imagine how life might be different if we truly believed power was abundant rather than scarce and could be shared rather than defended. Imagine how life might be different if we truly believed each of us were God’s representatives on earth, imbued not only with dignity but agency, whether we always felt it or not. Imagine how life on would be different if we truly believed our power had a purpose beyond the exercise of our own will. A different narrative around power could lead to a different kind of world.
In the interviews that I conducted with Christian leaders, I found the healthiest, holiest, and, yes, happiest interviewees were those whose focus did not linger on what they could not do, but on what they could. They were those who accepted the label “person of power” with a degree of not only acceptance but joy. They lived out of a sense of abundance and agency, tempered by a strong sense of responsibility toward a purpose larger than themselves. And, unsurprisingly, whatever environment in which they chose to serve began to look just a bit more like Eden.
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Ann Garrido is an Associate Professor at Aquinas Institute of Theology in St. Louis, MO where she has been involved in spiritual and pastoral formation for over 20 years. She is the author of Redeeming Power (Ave Maria Press, 2024) and host of the Waking Up Goliath podcast for Christian leaders, accessible through her website: anngarrido.com
[i] For fuller data on the specific psychological studies referenced here, see Julie Diamond, Power: A User’s Guide (Santa Fe, NM: Belly Song Pres, 2016)
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