Curious Christian

It feels like the ground beneath us is shifting, doesn’t it? For decades, we’ve lived under what people called a “rules-based order”. A framework that promised stability, cooperation, and some semblance of justice on the global stage. But now, that framework seems to be cracking. Nations are flexing muscles, alliances are fraying, and the old certainties are gone. In moments like this, it’s tempting to cling to power (whether political, military, or even cultural) as if that’s our lifeline.

But here’s the question: what does the cross say about power?

The victory of Christ wasn’t won through domination or coercion. It wasn’t the triumph of empire or the sword. It was a victory that looked, to the world, like defeat—a man hanging on a Roman cross, mocked and abandoned. And yet, that moment “disarmed the powers” (Colossians 2:15). Not by outmuscling them, but by exposing their emptiness. The resurrection declares that the ultimate authority doesn’t belong to Caesar, or to any system propped up by violence and fear. It belongs to the crucified and risen Lord.

So what does that mean for us, as followers of Jesus, in a world obsessed with control? Maybe it means we stop trying to play the same game. Maybe we resist the urge to baptize national strength or cultural dominance as “God’s plan.” Instead, we bear witness, quietly, faithfully, to a kingdom that doesn’t come through drone attacks or trade deals, but through self-giving love. That’s not weakness. Paradoxically, that’s the kind of power that lasts. God’s power “is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

The truth is, the “powers” haven’t gone away. They’re still at work, in governments, corporations, information networks, and even in our own hearts. But they’ve been unmasked. Their days are numbered. And that gives us hope. Not the kind of hope that says, “If we just fight harder, we’ll win,” but the hope that says, “Christ has already won. So we can live differently.”

Maybe that’s what the world needs right now. Not Christians scrambling for influence, but Christians who dare to trust the strange, upside-down victory of the cross. What do you think? Is that the kind of witness we’re ready to offer?