Words from the Minister

I’ve been thinking a lot about power lately—not only the kind we see in governments and institutions, but the quieter kind that lives in ordinary life. Power is not always loud. Sometimes it is simply the ability to shape a room, steer a decision, set the tone, or define what is “normal.” And here is the hard truth: even when we don’t mean to, each of us carries some measure of power over others.

The danger is that power can make us sleepy inside. When we are used to being listened to, deferred to, or rarely challenged, we can lose self-awareness. We may not know or realize we do it, but all of us, in one way or another, can slip into unchecked influence. And because it feels ordinary to us, we may excuse it when someone names it. We might deny it, or worse, justify it.

 

Scripture gives us mirrors for this. Pharaoh in Exodus had unchecked power over the Israelites. He was used to being unchallenged and acting without consequences. When his “more and more” demands were resisted, he tightened the grip. That is often what unchecked power does: it escalates. It doubles down. It becomes harsher when it feels threatened. And yet the story tells us that the people still left. The ones who were treated as if they had no choices found a way forward.

 

The book of Esther holds up another mirror. Haman uses his position to target an entire people, assuming he can act without consequence (Esther 3). His plan depends on silence—on nobody daring to confront him. But Esther risks her safety and speaks truth (Esther 7). When the king sees what has been done and why, everything turns. Haman falls; Mordecai is raised up (Esther 7–8). Esther’s courage changes the fate of many. She notices the danger of unchecked power, and she refuses to look away.

 

These stories aren’t only about “villains out there.” They also invite us to ask: where might I be blind to my influence? Where might I be using my position, personality, or social standing in ways that wound others—even subtly?

 

Here are a few places our blindness can show up, often without us noticing:

At work or in volunteer settings, power can look like asking for more and more from others while protecting our own comfort. It can look like holding information, making decisions in side conversations, or using expertise as a shield: “Trust me, I know best.”

 

In families and friendships, power can look like controlling the emotional climate—punishing with silence, using guilt, or turning every conflict into a courtroom where we must win. It can look like always needing the last word, or always needing to be right.

 

Online, power can look like sarcasm, piling on, public shaming, or sharing stories that aren’t ours to tell. And yes, it can look like gossip—using “concern” as a cover for tearing down someone’s reputation. Words can be weapons. Reputations can be harmed without a single bruise showing.

 

Even in church life, power can show up when we confuse our preferences with God’s will. When we treat certain voices as more credible than others. When we resist change because it costs us something. When we protect the institution more than we protect people.

 

If we are serious about being the change we want to see in the world, we cannot start with “those people.” We have to start where we are—with our own habits, our own blind spots, our own shadow sides. Not in shame, but in truth. Not to punish ourselves, but to become freer and more faithful.

 

This matters because history teaches us what unchecked power can do when it becomes normal. In Canada, governments, churches, and social systems held immense power over Indigenous peoples—First Nations, Inuit, and Métis—and used it to suppress language, culture, family bonds, and spiritual life. The harm was not accidental. It was structured. And even today, there are still voices that minimize it or try to justify it. A church that follows Jesus cannot be casual about this. We are called to truth-telling, to humility, and to repair.

 

So what do we do—personally, as a congregation, and as neighbours?

We can pray with honesty. Not polite prayer, but courageous prayer. “God, show me what I don’t want to see. Show me where my influence has become careless. Show me who pays the cost of my comfort.”

 

We can choose accountability over image. If someone names something in us, our first response does not have to be defense. It can be curiosity: “Help me understand.” Repentance is not grovelling. It is turning. It is changing direction.

We can use power the way Jesus uses power. Jesus does not crush people. He restores them. He does not build status; he builds community. He does not demand loyalty through fear; he invites trust through love. He kneels to wash feet. He speaks truth without contempt. He protects the vulnerable, even when it costs him.

 

Friends, this is a gentle but real invitation. If any part of this feels like a mirror, it may be because God is offering you freedom—not condemnation. The Holy Spirit does not expose us to humiliate us, but to heal us. And the world does not need a church that is defensive. The world needs a church that is awake.

 

Let’s begin where we are.

 

Rev Marco