A Theology Without an Expiration Date

By Josh Scott

Amipotence is a gift that places at the center a God whose essence is an uncontrolling love and who invites us to play a unique role in the world.

The most transformative experience of my life has been becoming a parent. I am now the proud dad of five amazing kids, and their arrival has impacted every area of my life, including my theology. That reality has been top of mind recently because I have entered a new phase of the parenting journey, one for which I feel woefully underprepared some days. I am now, friends, the parent of a teenager. There are complex emotions, mood swings, along with plenty of confusion, and that’s just on my end. It seems this is one of those “build-the-plane-as-you-are-flying-it” moments for both me and my teenager.

As a result, I have found myself reflecting recently on the theological impact that becoming a parent has had on me, especially as I am navigating new and uncharted-for-me territory. For years we have tried to give our oldest a solid foundation from which he could build his future. We have loved him fiercely and taught him that he is a gift to us and the world, and that other people are too. We’ve tried to instill values in him that we hope will guide his journey and shape how he shows up in the world and treats his neighbor and his enemy.

Now we are entering the stage of life where he will have to decide what he does with all that we’ve taught him. Sure, there is plenty more for us to do. In my fourth decade my own parents still teach me things, but it’s different than being a small child, isn’t it? Coming to terms with the fact that I can’t (and shouldn’t) control what he does or who he becomes has been a surprising challenge. Not that I want to determine everything about his life—I try not to be an uncool helicopter parent, and we all know those frustrating stories of controlling parents who just couldn’t let their children have their own lives and make their own decisions. I have no desire to be that. I just want to keep him safe, to help him make good decisions, and for him to grow into an adult who is loving, kind, and cares about the world around him (and the people in it).

That’s my deepest desire for him. However, I can’t control that, ultimately. I can’t force him to embrace the values we’ve taught him, or to embody them in the way he relates to the world around him. The best I can do is keep teaching, keep reminding, and to use whatever influence I have over his life to invite him to continue to embrace those values. Any attempt to do anything else—to control or coerce him—would not be born of love, but ultimately would arise from fear. While I didn’t need convincing at this point, the experience of being the parent of a teenager has deepened my conviction that amipotence is a better lens through which to understand God and God’s relationship to creation.

Theology is, at its core, about our work to make sense of our experiences. It might be more than that, but it is not anything less. Our experiences create questions, and we turn to theology in an attempt to reconcile those questions with our growing understanding of what or who God is, what it means to be human, and other existential questions of our existence. There is evidence of this very human need and endeavor all over the place.

When our ancient ancestors processed how dependent they were on forces outside of themselves for the basic necessities of life, they practiced theology as a way of making sense of those experiences. They needed the appropriate amount of sun, so there must be a force—some kind of divinity—that needs to be appeased and appreciated. The same with the rain, their vines, you get the picture. That is a sensible thing to do with the information they had available. That process is also reflected in the pages of the Bible. As people processed their experiences, they reflected theologically, and their work left us with a collection of texts that bear witness to their changing, expanding understandings of God over time.

Some of their theologizing left us with images and understandings of God that still ring true in our own experience. I, along with many others, have experienced God as our “rock” for example, a source of stability and hope in unstable and hopeless circumstances. Other images and understandings have come with expirations dates. Like the mostly empty jug of milk I discovered in my refrigerator last week, our doctrines and definitions can outlive their usefulness. That is a natural and normal process. Too often we confuse our words about God for God, and when that happens, if we resist openness to revision and reimagination, it limits the possibility of the growth and discovery that theology is intended to facilitate.

Omnipotence is one such expired idea. While many who still hold to this theological commitment likely do so out of a desire to express appropriate awe and wonder at the vastness of God, in the end it transforms God into something far less than good. I completely understand why this doctrine holds such appeal—after all the idea of a God that is in control and running a tight ship can give one a sense of stability and comfort, as long as we don’t think about the world and how it works too deeply.

When we look at the world and the problems our planet experiences, omnipotence does not offer comfort but causes concern. What kind of God are we dealing with, here? God’s love for everything and control of everything cannot coexist. Amipotence offers a much-needed alternative to omnipotence that preserves God’s goodness, human freedom, and centers love as the core of who God is. Like a parent, God invests and invites, draws and inspires us, but does not control or coerce us. Let me offer a few contrasts between the two that will help demonstrate some of the important differences between these two lenses for God.

First, omnipotence creates a moral dilemma for God and us. If God is all powerful, meaning God has the power to do anything, then why doesn’t God do something about all the suffering and tragedy of the world? Why allow people to be hungry and unhoused? Why would a good, omnipotent God stand by and watch genocides unfold, innocents suffer, and oppressors be rewarded? An all-powerful God who does not act is not a God worth having at all. Amipotence refocuses the responsibility back where it belongs, on us. God does not refuse to act, nor does God steamroll our freedom. Instead, amipotence invites us to understand and take seriously that God is love, and that love demands freedom. Like parenting a teenager, God invites and empowers us to partner with God to do something about the pain and problems of the world. To put it succinctly, while we have been waiting on God, God has been waiting on us. The moral dilemma is not God’s, but ours.

Next, omnipotence is focused on power and control, while amipotence allows love to be at the center of existence. It is not surprising that we humans would create a theology that centers power for power’s sake. It has long been a drug of choice for our species. Specifically, there is something in our species that gravitates toward power over others.

Amipotence invites us to see God, not as the source of that drive in us, but as the antidote to that proclivity. God is not a hoarder of power or control, but a dreamer looking for partners to create a better, more just world. Love, not control, is the bass note of creation. When we imitate God’s wisdom by centering love it allows us and all of creation to flourish. I have found that to be true in every relationship in my life, but especially as a spouse, parent, and pastor.

Finally, amipotence generates a possibility and creativity that are suffocated by omnipotence. Whether in a family or a workplace, when a parent or employer seeks to be in control of everyone and everything it does not engender our best, most creative participation. Instead, it feels more akin to reciting lines in a play whose plot and dialogue we had no part in crafting. Amipotence invites us to join in the creative experience, to dream about the possibilities that are in front of us as we join God to imagine and create a better world.

I have found amipotence to be a gift, because it has helped give language to my lived experience. That is what good theology does. It helps us, however imperfectly, put into words the encounter between our lives and the meaning of God. Amipotence places at the center of everything that exists a God whose essence is an uncontrolling love that invites us to play our own unique role in the world—a love that casts out fear and inspires creativity. The good news for us is that love does not have an expiration date and, while this theology of amipotence might expand over time, it will never shrink.

Bio: Josh Scott has been a pastor for the last two decades. He currently serves as the Lead Pastor at GracePointe Church in Nashville. The focus of his work is reimagining, reframing, and reclaiming faith through a Progressive Christian lens. He has written three books: Bible Stories for Grown-Ups, Context, and Parables. He lives near Nashville, TN with his wife, Carla, and five kids.

OORD’S DRABBLE* RESPONSE

Josh Scott makes a key connection between parenting and uncontrolling love, showing that theology’s task is, in part, to help us make sense of experience. He argues that the idea of God as all-powerful has expired—it no longer fits our lives or our planet. Such a view creates a moral dilemma about evil and inevitably sidelines love. By contrast, the perspective of uncontrolling love nurtures creativity instead of stifling it. Scott’s insight suggests that divine love is persuasive, not coercive, inviting genuine relationship and growth. I agree with him: this theology of love, grounded in freedom, has no expiration date.

For more on parenting, see Chris Hanson’s new book, Open and Relational Parenting

* A drabble is an essay exactly 100 words in length.