Retuning the Word Omnipotence
A Short Dialogue Between Sam and Riley
Riley: I just can’t use the word omnipotence for God anymore. It’s too loaded—too tied up with images of domination, coercion, and control. If God is omnipotent, why is the world such a mess?
Sam: I get that. Those associations are real. But I still use the word—not because I think God controls everything, but because I want language for how God can move in ways that surprise us, ways that are, as Bruce Epperly puts it, “always amazing and revelatory of more than we can imagine.”
Riley: But doesn’t that risk confusing people? Most folks hear omnipotence and think “all-controlling.”
Sam: Only if we let that be the only meaning. Words can be retuned. I use omnipotence not to describe total control, but to point toward the inexhaustible creativity of divine love—the way God’s power shows up in emergence, surprise, grace, and newness. Not micromanaging, but mysteriously present, luring creation toward life. I think other people use the word this way, too.
Riley: So for you, omnipotence means more like God’s power to bring about the unexpected?
Sam: Yes—and not just the unexpected, but what’s beyond our scripting. Not coercion, but astonishment. Not force, but faithful possibility.
Riley: Huh. Maybe the problem isn’t the word itself, but how tightly we hold our definitions.
Sam: Exactly. Sometimes the task isn’t to throw a word out, but to play a different tune on it. Honestly, I think some people already do. What open and relational theologians mean by amipotence, others still call omnipotence. Take Pope Francis—he says, “God’s omnipotence is lowly, made up of love alone. And love can accomplish great things with little.” That sure sounds like amipotence to me.
Riley: So you’re saying we should look to see how the word is used, and recognize that it can mean different things to different people in different contexts?
Sam: Exactly. If we really believe in listening deeply, then that includes listening to how people use their words—especially words like omnipotence—with generosity and attention.
Sam: I get that. Those associations are real. But I still use the word—not because I think God controls everything, but because I want language for how God can move in ways that surprise us, ways that are, as Bruce Epperly puts it, “always amazing and revelatory of more than we can imagine.”
Riley: But doesn’t that risk confusing people? Most folks hear omnipotence and think “all-controlling.”
Sam: Only if we let that be the only meaning. Words can be retuned. I use omnipotence not to describe total control, but to point toward the inexhaustible creativity of divine love—the way God’s power shows up in emergence, surprise, grace, and newness. Not micromanaging, but mysteriously present, luring creation toward life. I think other people use the word this way, too.
Riley: So for you, omnipotence means more like God’s power to bring about the unexpected?
Sam: Yes—and not just the unexpected, but what’s beyond our scripting. Not coercion, but astonishment. Not force, but faithful possibility.
Riley: Huh. Maybe the problem isn’t the word itself, but how tightly we hold our definitions.
Sam: Exactly. Sometimes the task isn’t to throw a word out, but to play a different tune on it. Honestly, I think some people already do. What open and relational theologians mean by amipotence, others still call omnipotence. Take Pope Francis—he says, “God’s omnipotence is lowly, made up of love alone. And love can accomplish great things with little.” That sure sounds like amipotence to me.
Riley: So you’re saying we should look to see how the word is used, and recognize that it can mean different things to different people in different contexts?
Sam: Exactly. If we really believe in listening deeply, then that includes listening to how people use their words—especially words like omnipotence—with generosity and attention.