No Longer In Control

Discussing powerlessness during these modern times of violent struggle for power, dominance and control seems counterintuitive at best; ridiculous and naive at its worst. Regardless of our political views (and maybe in spite of them), this world, in these times, is a chaotic, toxic stew of loud and blustery leaders, with and without power, who aren’t afraid of taking violent action to disrupt, corrupt, usurp and conquer whatever obstacles are in their way, to fight to the top of whatever governmental heap exists so that they can declare themselves king of the mountain. It would be a comical reenactment of childhood bullying and foolish power-games if it weren’t so tragic in its consequences.

I am not a politician, and I don’t follow politics either at home or abroad; it’s simply too difficult, disruptive, sad. I learned years ago that being too close to these stories of world violence and struggle for domination saps me of my hard-won peace. That’s not to say that I ignore it all together; I read certain publications in a measured quantity. And I pray. I pray often.

And I do what I can to live a life that eschews power struggles, having learned to walk away from the temptations that come from asserting power and control over others. I came to understand, especially in the last few years of my life, that power and control are not good bed-fellows with a life aimed at peace and grace and love.

I‘ve come to realize that in our own lives, we can easily become little despots in our own small kingdoms, wielding power with abandon, inflicting harm and exerting control in order to make ourselves feel powerful and secure. We all play our own versions of “King of the Mountain”, until hopefully one day, we awaken from our power-filled stupor to realize that we really aren’t in control of anything, and we have gained nothing of value by insisting on being in control. Being in control is illusory at best; destructive at its worst.

I came across a quote from Henry Nouwen (1932-1996), a Dutch Catholic priest and theologian well known for his own journey of giving up control and for his writings on spirituality, social justice and community. After serving as professor and scholar at several well-known universities around the world (including Harvard and Yale), he eventually ended up serving at L’Arche Daybreak in Toronto, a community caring for the severely disabled, where he found new purpose and a renewed, deepened faith in personally serving the residents there. He discovered in a deep and personal way that giving up power and control was the best (and maybe only?) way to personal and lasting peace:

“As fearful, anxious, insecure, and wounded people we are tempted constantly to grab a little bit of power that the world around us offers, left and right, here and there, now and then. These bits of power make us little puppets jerked up and down on strings until we are dead.” Nouwen went on to say that it is only through powerlessness that we can rightfully make a difference; only through serving from a place of weakness, and only in a life lived with little or no control can we ever hope to effectively love others.

Nouwen wasn’t the only person who served from a place of powerlessness; St. Francis, Mother Teresa - and yes, Jesus himself - as well as thousands more throughout history and into our own modern day, have understood the indescribable (and counterintuitive) beauty of giving up power in order to make a difference. For you see, regardless of our own position in society and in life, there is something silently, grandly and overwhelmingly powerful in someone who, of their own volition, with humility and full knowledge of the consequences, gives up their own power and wealth to serve.   It is a rare and beautiful thing — though probably not as rare as we would imagine.  Surely there have been countless thousands over the centuries who have willingly given up power and wealth and prestige in order to assist those who have nothing; millions who have walked away from being powerful and become powerless so that they might make a difference.

But it is not a popular position.  Our society does not understand powerlessness in its most elemental space; it does not see the true value of powerlessness but instead craves, like an addict, their substance of choice, the graven image of being a powerful person, a person of prestige, of wealth, of fame. Of power. If you don’t think that’s true, turn on your device of choice and read the news or view the images of the violent power struggles in far flung places in the world; or if you’d rather stay close to home - in Washington DC.  Listen to the vitriol spewed forth in the power-laden halls of government where men and women wrestle and fight with vicious words and untruths, distorted images of power and greed ever the goal, ever the worshipped-god to be appeased in numerous smoke-filled back rooms around the globe.  Or if you think that too depraved to consider, cast your eyes, instead, upon the board rooms of Wall Street, and Main Street — in New York or California, or London or Beijing - in fact, pretty much anywhere around the globe you choose, and observe the powerful and power-hungry wanna-be’s struggle for power and more power; for money and wealth. For absolute control.

I’ve come to understand a deep truth, one that has been clear to all those who have given up their own power over the centuries: powerlessness is not weakness. Oh, no. In fact, it is only in giving up our illusion of power that we can become strong. Acknowledging the inability of power itself to change lives, to improve the world, to make any difference whatsoever is truly the key to developing an inner strength that is fully cognizant of the deep inner core of true power, which is love. The only strength, the only power that truly transforms is love - pure and simple. If anything, history has taught us that violence and war do not bring about change or peace or lasting transformation; they simply destroy. True power is found in loving. It’s as simple —and complex— as that.

There is one thing, then, we can all do; one thing that will make a difference - maybe not on the world stage, but certainly in our own world, in each of our lives. We can daily choose the path of love, peace and harmony in our own relationships - whether spouse, child, family, friend, or coworker. We can choose to forgive others, even when we are convinced we are in the right; forgiveness is an active giving up of control in the name of love. We can choose to apologize first, even when we have been the victim; this kind of apology brings about the humility we need to continue to give up power and control, the need to always be right. We can abdicate strong opinions and loud arguments when we come to understand that ultimately, those opinions and arguments really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things; it is only our egos that care who wins.

If we choose to let go of power and control in the small things, we will begin to learn what it’s like to be powerless. If, in the small decisions of each day we choose the lesser way, the way of letting others decide, letting others choose, letting others “win”, we will learn a little bit more about the power of love. These choices, though small, will be hard at first, (and frankly, it will likely always be hard…) but letting go wields great personal peace, teaching us that truly, the least powerful, the meek, will truly inherit a Kingdom.