Curious Christian

When I consider what it could mean for Christians in the West to truly follow Christ, I can’t help but notice our attachments to influence, privileges, and power. It’s almost second nature to us, shaped by a culture that prioritises security, control, and success. But when I look at the life of Jesus, I sense we’re clinging to the very things he calls us to release.

Collectively, we’ve often tied our Christianity to systems of power, to cultural dominance, or to the idea that the church should always have a central voice in public life. But is that voice truly Christ’s, or is it more about preserving our own status? Jesus didn’t model a path that sought worldly power. He modeled humility, servanthood, and solidarity with the marginalized. If we are honest, how often do we, as the church, align ourselves with power structures rather than standing with those on the margins? How often do we speak out for justice when it costs us something?

We have to ask ourselves hard questions. What privileges do we as Western Christians enjoy that others don’t? Access to resources? Freedom from persecution? Cultural influence? And how are we using those privileges, not for self-preservation, but to embody the radical love and justice of Christ? Too often, we use these advantages to protect ourselves, to build walls rather than bridges, and to insist on our comfort rather than embracing the discomfort of the cross.

I wonder if part of our collective calling is to learn to let go—to step out of the center and make room for others. To listen more than we speak. To divest from systems of power that exploit or exclude, and to invest in relationships, reconciliation, and a faith that looks less like dominance and more like service. What might it mean for us, as a church, to live with open hands? To give up the need to control culture, politics, or narratives, and instead to embody Christ’s humility, love, and courage in a world that so desperately needs it?

This isn’t easy work. It’s hard to let go of what feels familiar or secure. But I believe that when we do, we create space for the kingdom of God to break through. A kingdom where the last are first, where power is redefined as self-giving love, and where the church truly reflects the heart of Christ—not by grasping for influence, but by laying it down.