Divine Malpraxis

By Elijah Razo

Amipotence gives the means to build a praxis of wellbeing that omnipotence denies.

When I approach theology, one of my first questions is always, “How does this work out in our world?” Or, in other words, how do I or the people I am teaching live into and embody this theology? The second question immediately following is ,”And does this bring well-being into the world?”

I feel it important to name a bias I bring to this conversation. I am very uncomfortable with the idea that controlling power is the attribute of God that makes God worthy of praise. Do we value relationships with anyone or anything else based on who has the most control over us? Does someone’s authority over your life create value? Or is it instead the love shared that makes relationships meaningful… that makes them worthy of talking about… that makes us whole? If you will permit me to be a bit snarky for a moment… I have had plenty of bosses who had power over me and between you and me… I didn’t really feel like singing their praises because of their power. Furthermore, if we were to embody this attribute of controlling power… it ought to logically make us more like God, more holy. Yet the old adage tells us the opposite, saying, “power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Embodying the character of God should make us more holy, not less. No, the most meaningful relationships, the ones worthy of recognition and praise, are the ones that grow from love. Surely love has to be that which is worth the most praise. Surely then, the greatest attribute of a God that makes any God worth praising, is love.

Keeping this in mind, I believe that theologies of an omnipotent God lack the consistency with scripture, logic, and praxis found in Thomas Jay Oord’s theology of amipotence. In the first chapter of his book, Oord astutely notes that the titles mistranslated as almighty (Shaddai, Sabaoth, Pantocrator) and omnipotent qualities (all-controlling, able to do anything) are not supported by scripture, but are rather later theologies read into the text. I find these specific highlights helpful in that they remind us of the ways we bring our own thoughts, desires, and biases to our reading of scripture.

Christians across all denominations affirm that we live (or attempt to live) according to the teachings of scripture. So, simply put, the way we read scripture significantly influences the way we form the practices of our faith. When we bring in later themes of an all-determining and all-controlling God and affix them to scripture, we significantly alter its message, and I do not think for the better. So how do we do the good work of removing these alterations?

This is where Oord’s wider survey of God’s character in scripture, found primarily in chapter three, is of most benefit. Oord reminds us that throughout scripture God acts with creation, not above or outside of it. I would add that we see a God who calls on prophets to share God’s messages, on the common people (and usually the least of these) to enact Their will, and in the person of Jesus, creates disciples to extend the invitation to community with the God of Israel. God constantly and consistently requires the help of creation to cause change in the world. When we read scripture in light of its whole, we can see that the all-controlling, able-to-do-everything, all-determining God simply does not fit the narrative. We see not an omnipotent God puppetting creation, but an amipotent God acting in relationship. In this light we see scripture in a restored light, removing omnipotent domination and emphasizing human action.

Alongside the thematic and anachronistic issues read into scripture, omnipotence also creates deep logical inconsistencies. Oord’s second chapter highlights the numerous qualifying remarks necessary to maintain a theology of an omnipotent God. The qualifications necessary to make omnipotence logical undoes the concept itself. Oord says it best when he notes that adding qualifications to a theology of God that means without qualification is self-defeating.

To further this conversation, let’s discuss the Augustinian theology that popularizes the idea of omnipotence, which has held a disproportionate influence on the acceptance of omnipotence. Augustine’s God created in total indomitable power… but the first rational being God creates rebels and ‘breaks’ creation. Did God just ‘mess up’ in our creation? Was it a cosmic oopsy or oversight that humanity was created in a way that can break creation? If we say that God is all-powerful yet humanity broke creation through Adam… hasn’t Adam just undone the work of the omnipotent God? Or are we to believe that this was part of a plan?

If Adam’s sin, and all future sin (with the pain, suffering, and toil it brings) was part of a cosmic plan… how can we call this God loving? Yet love is an attribute of God held by all Christians. This narrative spins quickly out of control leading to countless other illogical conclusions. A God who controls all and can do all things but cannot actually control and do all things is oxymoronic rather than logical.

The result of anachronistic readings of scripture and logical fallacies found in omnipotence endangers Christian praxis. Christian theology claims that all of humanity are image bearers of our God. While there may be a great deal of debate on what that means, or how we bear the image, it occurs to me that we are meant to follow God’s lead. We are meant to try to act the way God acts. This means that the relationships we hold with ourselves, others, and the world ought to mirror the relationship we hold with our God. When we accept a theology that depicts God as the omnipotent, all-controlling, all-determining ruler (as I grew up hearing), this theology imparts a problematic praxis for our other relationships.

In not-so-distant American history, we see how the Christian slave owner embodies a negative praxis from the theology of an omnipotent God. He controls every aspect of his slaves’ lives. He knows all, sees all, determines all, and quickly punishes those who stray. He even gives his gospel to his slaves… though this man’s gospel has amputated any talk of freedom for the oppressed. (There are no years of jubilee in this no-good-news gospel). The master’s power is supreme.

Yet, he acted according to how his god acts. He embodied the aspect of God he sees as most worthy of worship (controlling power). Sadly, this is not a theoretical outcome of this theology. This actual, embodied praxis horrifically wounded our world.

The theology of a controlling omnipotent God gives me essentially three general types of praxis to choose from:

Non-praxis

If I adopt Augustine’s logic, I will realize that I am but a vessel for the actions of God, so I ought to just wait for God to act and be as little myself as possible. If I am only able to do ill apart from God, it would be best for me to sit in silence. It seems best practice to passively observe what God is doing because none of my actions have any true effect on the world. Anything that I do is either according to God’s will or will be overcome by God’s will. My most effective praxis in this method is to not do anything.

Negative-praxis

Another option is to be like the American slave owners who took this to mean that they should emulate God by controlling other humans ‘for their own good.’ (For the slaves did not have the attributes of the moral, white, European, male that so clearly make up the omnipotent god). My praxis is one of controlling those around me. This is exemplified in modern times by the church’s participation in varying levels of control, from systematic oppression to uneven interpersonal relationships. This praxis teaches us to control others from a place of moral superiority.

Justifying-praxis

A third option is to create an arbitrary system of deciding what God would want us to do based on our own convictions and interpretations that we attempt to force others to agree with and then call it orthodox (as exemplified in my upbringing as a bible-belt non-denominationalist). A specific church dictates how others ought to live. This is quite similar to the negative praxis, but different in that the power is slightly dispersed within the community. This praxis upholds anachronistic readings of scripture, and logical pitfalls by claiming that “God’s ways are not our ways” and/or that we ought not question God… all the while holding the power of God in deciding what the community believes is right living. All people should be beholden to this community’s praxis.

None of these types of praxis can stand in the light of my second question of theology, for none of them bring about well-being in the world. If our options are to do nothing, control others, or arbitrate… we need a new theology.

This is where we find Oord turning in his final chapter. Amipotence is offered as a new way to think, and I would further this, a new way to be. Amipotence is a theology that provides a praxis of well-being that we can actually perform.

God loves all and offers us the option to choose well-being in all things. Scripture paints the picture of a God who invites creation toward well-being. The Hebrew Bible depicts God as a caring creator, a self-sacrificing mother, a wronged lover, and a steadfast father. Within the Hebrew Bible, we see God’s loving relationship with their people. The people are then instructed to emulate this relationship within and without their communities (love neighbors, and care for orphans/widows). Jesus reiterates this same message by riding into Jerusalem on a lowly donkey rather than a magnificent white horse. Jesus does not manipulate or control but sits and eats with outcasts, sinners, and the downtrodden. Jesus claims that the greatest commandment is… you guessed it… to love. If love, not power, is the most important thing to Jesus… might it not be for us as well?

Amipotence also surpasses omnipotence in its logical conclusions that feed our praxis. The question of evil becomes answerable. Why did God not prevent this? They could not. Yet God weeps with creation when evil happens. There are likewise no enumerable qualifications that must be given to maintain amipotence. God loves and invites us to love every. single. time.

And so, with a scripture that shows us how love works, and a logic that does not negate God’s ability to love, we form a cohesive praxis. To be abundantly clear, this praxis does not draw specific lines in the sand other than this: attempt to bring well-being in all things. Well-being looks different in different situations, so this praxis gives us creative freedom to live rather than strict guidelines to tiptoe around. When we follow the lead of the amipotent God our praxis promotes upbuilding and distribution of power, rather than domination and control. That sounds like the God of the Bible. That sounds like Jesus. That sounds like a praxis I can pursue.

Bio: Elijah Razo earned his Master of Theological Studies from Christian Theological Seminary. His master’s thesis was titled God, Humanity, And an Improved Understanding of Sin. He recently started a Substack (https://substack.com/@elijahrazo) and desires to continue his theological education.

OORD’S DRABBLE* RESPONSE

Daniel Razo highlights the problem with believing in a God who has controlling power, arguing that such a God would be guilty of divine malpractice. Instead, he contends that a belief in God’s perfect love offers a better foundation for worship and praise. I appreciate how Daniel outlines three models of practice shaped by different doctrines of God. The Augustinian model fosters passivity, control, or reliance on mystery and tradition. In contrast, amipotence promotes a practice rooted in uncontrolling love and active care for others. I agree with Daniel that this approach resonates deeply with the God revealed in Jesus.

For more on Oord’s view on Jesus, see this article.

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