Love Without Power is Dead Faith

By Rev. Ryan Wallace, Sr. Pastor, Fairmount Presbyterian Church, Cleveland Ohio

Love Without Power is Dead Faith

“One of the great problems of history is that the concepts of love and power have usually been contrasted as opposites, opposites, so that love is identified with a resignation of power, and power with a denial of love…Now, we got to get this thing right. What is needed is the realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best, power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.”¹ 

Every single day, we witness the exercise of reckless and abusive power in this country. And for far too long we, the Church, have maintained that we are about love, not power. But here is the thing—we cannot disrupt abusive power with anemic love. 

James, the brother of Jesus wrote: “Imagine a brother or sister who is naked and never has enough food to eat. What if one of you said, ‘Go in peace!” Stay warm! Have a nice meal!’? What good is it if you do not actually give them what their body needs? In the same way, faith is dead when it does not result in faithful activity.”²  

Well, I will take it a step further. If someone is hungry because an authoritarian government took away their SNAP benefits and you offer them a sandwich today, what good is that tomorrow?  

Practicing love without power is dead faith. 

It is time for us to recognize that the only way to confront abusive power is by practicing power with love.  

Last fall, I gathered on Zoom with Christian leaders from across the country. Over the course of a few months, we studied and discussed three Christian confessional statements from the 20th century: the Barmen Declaration 1933-34 (Germany, 1933), the Letter From Birmingham Jail (United States, 1963), and the Belhar Confession (South Africa, 1982). Those conversations culminated with an in-person gathering in January to draft a new confessional statement–one for this place and this time in the Church’s witness. The statement begins: 

“We are facing a cruel and oppressive government…What confronts us is not only an endangered democracy and the rise of tyranny. It is also a Christian faith corrupted by the heretical ideology of white Christian nationalism, and a church that has often failed to equip its members to model Jesus’s teachings and fulfill its prophetic calling as a humanitarian, compassionate, and moral compass for society…We call on all Christians to join us in greater acts of courage to resist the injustices and anti-democratic danger sweeping across the nation. In moments like this, silence is not neutrality.”³ 

But making statements–no matter how bold–simply is not enough. 

In Germany, Christians organized underground seminaries and networks of resistance. 

In Birmingham, church leaders planned boycotts during Easter and staged civil disobedience. 

In South Africa, faith leaders were the tip of the spear in multiple anti-apartheid efforts and churches became central hubs for nonviolent resistance. 

“There are moments that call for repentance and resistance, courage and conviction, faith, and fortitude. This is one of those moments. The question is, what will we do now?”⁴

A couple of weeks ago, we gathered hundreds of people of faith from more than thirty congregations here in Northeast Ohio. We were Jewish, Muslim, and Christian. Black, white, and brown. From different denominations. Speaking different languages. Congregations, small and large. And we came together with a single purpose—to proclaim solidarity with our immigrant neighbors who are being targeted, persecuted, and abused right now.

But we did more than preach and pray. We organized into teams for aid, accompaniment, advocacy, and action. Simply put, we are building power for a faith-based movement of nonviolent resistance in our local community.

Because love without power is dead faith.