The Power of God and the Power of the World

The focus this past Easter morning [in 1991] at Sojourners Community worship was the power of God, and the power of what the Bible calls the world system, which is governed by sin and death. The question before us this Resurrection Day was, Which power do we really believe is ultimate?

The response of the first disciples at the tomb, upon hearing the good news of the resurrection, was that it scared them to death. It filled them with "terror and amazement."

In his book Resurrection, Morton Kelsey says:

Suddenly they were confronted with a world in which God was more powerful than the Temple, or Rome, or any other power ... Of course part of them rejoiced in the hope that Jesus had risen, but still more of them were stupefied, paralyzed with fear. The world was the way Jesus had described it. They had never quite believed him ... If it were true, and that bright immensity that encountered them could not be denied, then they had built their lives on all the wrong assumptions.

Finally, says Kelsey, "If the Resurrection is true, then this world is not what it seems to be, and I may be called to follow the way of love revealed in this event." Now that is enough to scare anyone.

These disciples had followed Jesus, they loved him, they thought they had given their lives over to him. But when it appeared that what he was saying might really be true, that the world was not as it appeared to be but was as he said it was, they got scared.

If we really experience the resurrection, it will scare us to death too, and perhaps even scare us to life. We will know the disciples' joy and terror. Because to be honest, most of us aren't really sure about Jesus. We believe him, we admire him, but we really aren't absolutely convinced he was right. At least we haven't totally bet our lives on it. We are still hedging our bets.

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the power of God over the power of the way the world seems to be. And the choice between the two causes us to wrestle with the ultimate questions of faith.

THE LENTEN FAST I undertook from Ash Wednesday to this Easter morning became that kind of time for me. It was the interior battlefield of the 1991 Gulf war. I undertook the fast when I felt I had done everything else in my power to prevent the war.

We had all done what we could think of to do, and it was evident that it was not enough. We watched the war overtake the country, and there was nothing we could do or say, no sacrifice we could make, no strategy we could create that would stop it. We knew it could plunge us into a spiritual crisis.

But 47 days on just water and juice brought on many changes in me. When the ground war began and ended so quickly, and national euphoria ensued, we witnessed the public vindication of everything we had so long and deeply opposed. Yet there was, inexplicably, a very strange peacefulness in my spirit. The fast began to bring about a kind of rest and belief and even trust in the power of God in the midst of our powerlessness.

That is certainly not characteristic for me. I do not rest; I organize and speak and act, and often I despair over how little difference I make. That's more the spiritual paradigm of my life.

Where my hope really lies became the question. Is it in the power of the world to save itself, to reform itself, and even to transform itself? Is it in our power to impact, influence, and change the world? Or is it in the power of God to bring salvation to our lives and to this earth?

We know that simply to hope in the results of our work, our efforts, and our strategies is to hope in ourselves, and finally to hope in the power of this world. How do we find our hope in God instead?

The various kinds of fasting, praying, and waiting we have been doing have helped us to weep over the war's destruction and suffering. But at a deeper level, for me, the fast has begun to help me shake my head, and smile, and even laugh at the warmakers. Who do they think they are on Easter morning?

Through Lent and Good Friday, and the long vigil of Easter, we have wept over death. But on Easter Sunday morning, by the power of the resurrection and the grace of God, we were enabled to laugh at it.

In these days, Pax Americana has declared its own total victory. But I recall that at the time of the resurrection, there was also something called Pax Romana. It claimed total victory and control as well.

What finally undermined Pax Romana was its arrogance, its corruption, its injustice, its overextension. But it was also undermined by a little band of people, a growing movement that didn't accept its victory. They spoke instead of the victory of Christ. They actually believed the power of God was greater than the power of Rome. They had seen the Lord, and it had changed the way they would live forevermore.

Their actions demonstrated their belief, and some died for their belief. And the amazing thing is that when they died, they were still singing and praising God, something which confounded their persecutors. Because of the way they lived and died, they were not known as a depressed or discouraged remnant. The early Christians were a people who believed that their faith held the key to history. That's what made them such a problem for Rome.

Brothers and sisters, let us not be known as a depressed or discouraged remnant. Let us be known as a people who live, and when necessary die, singing.

Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.