Re-imagining Power

by  Traci Hubbard

Micah 5:2–5a; Matthew 2:1–15

Peace is a word that evokes tranquility, but in reality, peace often feels as rare as a sunny winter day in Lake Country. Peace isn't the absence of noise or conflict. It is the presence of something deeper within us, a steady calm even when life has us running around like a squirrel looking for an acorn.

We all search for peace.  Some of us look for it in nature, some of us try yoga and end up stuck in a pose, calling it 'resting', and some of us just hope Christmas dinner will not involve any kind of tension. But peace is not just a destination—it's a journey, and sometimes, it’s found in the most unexpected places.

If you are anything like me, you can allow leftovers to steal your peace. For example, Thursday morning I had leftover cold spaghetti for breakfast, and I began stressing over the thought, “Do I pray – offer thanks for this…like, hey Holy friend, it’s me again with my pasta, thanks.” It’s amazing really, the things we allow to steal our power and peace.

There’s a saying, “How we live into our power shows who we really are.” Scripture takes this further by teaching the kind of power we choose determines the kind of peace we experience. Jesus models one kind of power. Herod models another.

It is evident that the world still offers both. One stems from love for and respect of all humanity, while the other stems from fear, greed, and disdain for humanity as we witnessed this week the leader of the free world called a governor the “R’ word and a Somalian Congresswoman “Garbage”. The sad thing is, there will always be Herod’s among us as long as cultures live with the mindset of scarcity and self-interest instead of generosity. 

There’s another saying: “Power shows a person’s heart.” I once heard a child define power this way, “Power is when the TV remote control is my hand.” I thought, “You know what? A lot of global conflicts could be solved with that level of honesty.” But Scripture gives us a different vision of power—one that surprises us, disrupts us, and ultimately calls us to reimagine what real power could be – a kind peaceful presence.

Our texts introduce us to two rulers: Herod, sitting on his throne in Jerusalem, and Jesus, lying in a feed trough in Bethlehem. Generations earlier, Micah had already told Israel that their true shepherd-king would come from “Bethlehem… too small to be among the clans of Judah.” In other words, their long-awaited king would come from a place you wouldn’t expect to find greatness. The power of the Divine loves to arrive through the side door, unnoticed, wearing jeans with holes in them or wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Herod is the opposite of peace. He hears a rumor about a baby king and panics. A full palace meltdown ensues and on Thanksgiving, he posts 160 texts calling people vile names, spewing lies and conspiracies, discrediting and dehumanizing anyone who perceives things differently or dares to hold him accountable. Herod uses power the way a scared person uses a flashlight during a flood, wildly, frantically, shining it everywhere except where it would help.

Years ago, at a church Christmas pageant, the little boy playing King Herod took his role a little too seriously. When the Magi walked onstage, he stood up, stomped his foot, and shouted, “I will NOT be replaced!” Parents in the audience whispered, “Method acting…impressive.” But the boy captured Herod perfectly. He portrayed him as insecure, grasping, and terrified that someone might take his spotlight.

In Matthew, Jesus and Herod never speak to each other, but their stories collide in a cosmic showdown about what real power looks like. Herod uses power to control. Jesus embodies power to heal. Herod clutches. Jesus releases. Herod rules with fear. Jesus rules with peace and love.

Micah points us to Bethlehem, a place so small it barely made the map. In his writing, the Holy says, “Watch what I can do with something small.” Folks, this is good news because most of us feel small sometimes. We feel small in ability, small in influence, and small in energy (moms and ministers feel this way especially around December 24th). But Holy Peace specializes in small. Small towns. Small moments. Small congregations. Small people with willing hearts.

Matthew shows us that LOVE’s power never looks like domination. It looks like vulnerability, soft strong courageous presence, and sacrificial love. We learn that the baby and his parents must flee as refugees. The Jew called to change the world begins life not with the power of a throne, but with imminent danger. And yet, Micha says this powerless-looking child is the one who will “be our peace.” In other words, when we embody the ways of Jesus, the peace of Love becomes who we are and how we live, even while chaos, danger, uncertainty, grief and greed swirl all around us. Friends, we are free to create an inner sanctuary, a place inside us where we can center ourselves and renew our strength, refocus our vision, and reimagine our ways of being, of living in our power. And the good news is, nothing, no one, no thing, can take this place of peace away from us.  Peace is the result of retraining our minds to process life as it is, rather than as we think it should be. Herod’s power dies with him. Jesus’ power grows, multiplies, and still transforms people today.

So, what does re-imagined power look like for us? Power becomes service, not status. Power becomes lifting up others, being vulnerable in how we love, and not guarding ourselves. Power becomes courage, not control. Power becomes peace-making, not peacekeeping, which often requires a type of militant behavior.  And Power becomes compassion, not competition.

Sometimes power is simply choosing gentleness when anger would be easier. Sometimes it’s telling the truth kindly. Sometimes it’s noticing the person who feels invisible. Sometimes power is staying in or leaving a relationship or forgiving or trying again. Jesus shows us that power is love with steel toed boots on our feet.

Each day we choose which kind of power we will live by. Will we cling to things like Herod? Cling to our failures, the past, our fears, our titles, our comfort? Or will we allow the Spirit to work through us in quiet, unexpected, Bethlehem-sized ways?

The world has enough Herod’s. Not just the historical Jesus, but the Universal Christ, the Cosmic Christ, who is the blueprint for all creation, is inviting us to be Bethlehem people—small but faithful, humble but courageous, gentle but strong.

Folks, Micah’s prophecy, his intuitive words still resonate, “He shall be great… and he shall be our peace.”And every time we choose Jesus’ way of power, the peace of Holy Love and Mystery grows a little more in us and through us.

A poor man lived with his wife and six children in a very small one-room house. They were always getting in each other’s way and there was so little space they could hardly breathe! It was difficult to find peace.

The man spoke with his rabbi about how miserable things were at home, all of them eating and living and sleeping in one room. “We’re even starting to yell and fight with each other. Life couldn’t be worse.”

The rabbi thought very deeply and said, “Do exactly as I tell you and things will get better. Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

The rabbi then asked the poor man a strange question. “Do you own any animals?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have one cow, one goat, and some chickens.”

“Good,” the rabbi said. “When you get home, take all the animals into your house to live with you.”

The poor man was astonished to hear this advice from the rabbi, but he had promised to do exactly what the rabbi said. So, he went home and took all the farm animals into the tiny one-room house.

The next day the poor man ran back to see the rabbi. “It’s awful. I did what you told me, and the animals are all over the house! Rabbi, help me!”

The rabbi calmly said, “Go home and take the chickens back outside.”

The poor man did as the rabbi said but hurried back again the next day. “The chickens are gone, but the goat is smashing up all the furniture and eating everything in sight!”

The rabbi said, “Go home and remove the goat and may God bless you.”

So, the poor man went home and took the goat outside. But he ran back again to see the rabbi, crying and wailing. “What a nightmare you have brought to my house, Rabbi! With the cow it’s like living in a stable! Can human beings live with an animal like this?”

The rabbi said sweetly, “My friend, you are right. May God bless you. Go home now and take the cow out of your house.” And the poor man went quickly home and took the cow out of the house.

The next day he came running back to the rabbi again. “O Rabbi,” he said with a big smile on his face, “we have such a good life now. The animals are all out of the house. Our home is peaceful now and we have room to spare!”

The Peace of the Holy is already inside of us. Our job is to re-imagine living there and loving from there. That’s divine power. Friends, faith and fear both demand us to believe in something we cannot see. We are free to choose which one we will serve. This Advent, may we walk with the Prince of Peace that passes understanding. Micha got it right – may we walk in justice, love kindness and live humbly with one another. May it be so, amen.