Many years ago, I had the opportunity to speak about religious things at a gathering of Dallas area teenagers. I was a new Christian, still trying to find my way around a new culture, honored to be asked to speak in public for the first time in my life.

I was nervous, and really wanted to hit it out of the park, so I worked for days trying to get everything just right. When showtime came ’round, I spoke with confidence, told a few jokes, and held everyone’s attention for the entire 30 minutes. Of all my public speaking engagements, this might’ve been the best. That’s my perspective of course. Preachers tend to be the worst at judging thier own stuff.

Afterwards, multiple people went out of their way to compliment my words, some who I’d never spoken to before. In that moment, I was convinced that I had a gift (again, my perspective). In the year that followed, I never wondered why the group never asked me to speak again, I was too busy basking in the glow of that one moment.

I wanted more.

Not long after, I made a huge career switch and enrolled at Dallas Theological Seminary where I was formally trained in the art of “homiletics,” i.e., preaching. I then raised a bunch of money and started my own church. Floating around in the back of my mind was a longing to preach, to experience whatever I had experienced that day in Dallas.

I’ve preached many sermons since, some great, some awful, and all points in between. There are 100 things I love about communicating and influencing, but I can’t say that I don’t enjoy the power. Speaking to a large group of people, most of whom have glued their eyes to yours for almost an hour, is a little intoxicating.

Before you judge me, remember that we’re all struggling to do the right thing for the right reasons. If our motivations are 2% pure, we’re doing great, according to a friend of mine whose truth I’ve hung on to for dear life.

For whatever reason, humans love power. Give us a small taste and we’ll spend our days in hot pursuit. There’s no way to completely eradicate it, all we can do is try and wield it for good while keeping it from dominating our lives. War, theft, cheating, lying, controlling relationships, workaholism, whatever will always come part and parcel with the human story, and at the core of it will be an innate desire for power.

We could ponder why this longing runs so deep within us, or what God was thinking when he embedded it in all of humanity.

But I’m wondering why we only want a certain kind of power, why the power that’s in our laps isn’t the power we want.

The power we have

For example, consider someone who’s been beaten up by the world, roaming about in a zombie-like state of self-rejection and the depression that attends it. Those people are legion, by the way; some are “confident” and “successful,” well-trained in the art of hiding their hurt, others are homeless. The rest live somewhere in between.

The only way out of that mess is similar to the way in. When a trusted, beloved human convinces us that we’re not worth much, only another trusted human can convince us otherwise. My life has been forever changed by the latter.

That’s power.

If you’re an American Christian, like me, you’ve probably got some extra money in your pocket, and you’re free, like me, to do whatever you want with it. We can take some/half/all of that cash and support people in need: children, single moms, homeless people, others struggling to make ends meet in our city.

Evangelical Christianity – by itself – could put an unthinkable dent in global suffering.

Power.

Kindness, compassion, generosity, and forgiveness are much more powerful than their evil counterparts, rippling into the human corpus like nothing else. We can wield those whenever and however we want. If evangelical Christianity – by itself – chose to use these as much as Jesus commanded us to, the world would truly be a different place. We’ve chosen instead to wave our political plastic swords about because the devil’s politician whispered in our ears that we’re somehow more powerful than everyone else.

I have time, money, energy, experience, and resources that could be spent on behalf of folks who don’t have nearly as much, who would gladly accept my help without batting an eye. But I excuse myself. “I’m tired,” I say, while spending 7 or so hours a week writing things that will only ever bless a small congregation, hoping that it will one day blow up into something bigger.

The power we want

The power that you and I have is the power that everybody has. It’s “common,” “everyday,” “easy.” It comes without a PhD or some other sexy marker that might distinguish it from everyone else’s power. If we choose instead to wield the common powers, there won’t be any applause, or acclaim. Nobody cares, save the person we just saved with it, and maybe God.

“…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” ~ Matthew 25:40

By definition, only a relative few can wield sexy power. If more people find it, by definition, it becomes common. Is that the reason why so many will spend their lives chasing it, because nobody else has it?

A few years ago I preached another sermon, a short one that I threw together for a friend’s wedding on the ski slopes of Beaver Creek. I didn’t think it was any good, but people went nuts, like they’d never heard anything like it. I spent almost the entire reception fielding complements from complete strangers.

Fortunately, my wife was close at hand to help with the mild, post-sermon depression that followed the next day. I wanted more of the attention, the accolades, but it was over. That stuff always ends, but this was the first time I was ready to face it, to process it.

It was fun to walk around a slopeside cabin during the reception, like some kind of celebrity. I’ll never forget moments like that. But I’ve begun to realize that they don’t add anything to my life. They haven’t made me happy, or more mature, or able to appreciate the things I do have, the things that don’t disappear like a whisp.

I’ve also learned that the cosmos has placed much limitation on sexy power. The boundaries are as big and plentiful as the bruises I have from beating my head against them. The exact opposite is true for the more common powers – I can give, serve, help, love, forgive, etc. as much as I want, whenever I want.

You have to wonder why power’s boundaries are set up this way.

Regardless, we can spend our lives trying to find a way through immovable walls, or spend them walking through open doors. If fame and popularity somehow find their way to us while we’re doing so, great, grab them. But understand that whatever fame you find won’t change anything. Friends who’ve found much more than I have would say the same thing.

Sexy power has made nobody happy, nor has the money or whatever else that comes with it.

Go figure that scripture is full of commandments to wield the common powers while, so many times, condemning the pursuit of the sexy ones, always warning against their use, and never celebrating them.