When Jesus stood before Pilate, the conversation turned quickly to power. “Are you a king?” Pilate asked. Jesus didn’t deny it. But he did redefine it. “My kingdom is not of this world.” With that sentence, Jesus named two different kingdoms, and two very different ways of understanding power.
The kingdom of this realm operates on a familiar logic. Power is exercised over others. There is a greater and a lesser. Order is maintained through force, threat, or coercion. When something is broken, someone must pay. When justice is violated, it must be satisfied. This way of thinking feels natural to us because it is the air we breathe.
The kingdom of God, however, runs on an entirely different current. Its power is not coercive but self-giving. It does not overcome enemies by force but absorbs violence without returning it. It’s authority is not proven by domination but revealed through love. This is the kingdom Jesus embodies, and it is here that our thinking often fractures.
Historically, some Christian interpretations of the Cross have been shaped more by the logic of the kingdom of this realm than by the kingdom Jesus personifies. In the 11th century, Anselm framed the Cross as necessary to restore God’s honor. In the Reformation era, the emphasis shifted to justice: God’s justice must be satisfied; the penalty must be paid. Different language, same structure. God needed something, and the Cross accomplished it.
But what if that assumption is where our thinking warrants a second look?
What if the Cross was not accomplishing something for God, meeting a need, satisfying a requirement, but revealing something about God? What if nothing was lacking in God that needed to be fixed, repaired or appeased?
Seen through this lens, the Cross does not change God’s posture toward humanity; it reveals it. It exposes the way human power operates when threatened. It unmasks violence, fear, and domination, and refuses to mirror them back. Jesus does not seize power; he gives himself. He does not retaliate; he forgives. He does not overcome by force; he outlasts evil with love.
Here is the uncomfortable question this raises for us: If we claim allegiance to the kingdom of God, why do we so often imagine God acting according to the power structures of the kingdom of this realm? Why do some of us picture the Cross as God applying a greater force in order to satisfy something God needed?
Perhaps the Cross is not a transaction to be explained, but a revelation to be trusted; not a mechanism God requires, but a window into how God has always been.
As you reflect on power, kingdom, and the Cross, which understanding of power most influences your thoughts and actions especially when life presses in?