Redefining Power Graham Adams, a contemporary theologian in the open and relational tradition, reimagines divine power as amipotence, rejecting coercion and domination in favor of relationality, mutuality, and adaptability. God's power is one of responsive love, yearning for a world where freedom and flourishing are shared.
Sacred Anarchy Holy anarchy emerges as a prophetic, destabilizing force that challenges hierarchical domination and empowers "the least of these." Rooted in the divine eros toward mutuality, it resists politics of exclusion and fosters relationships of care and justice.
Metaphors of Hope To envision the positive side of holy anarchy, its pleasures, we need metaphors like improvisational jazz, gardening, cooking, storytelling, dancing, and river flow. These metaphors illustrate the sacred interplay of structure, freedom, and creativity, inspiring visions of mutual flourishing.
Small Events and Daily Life Holy anarchy is not limited to grand transformations but is experienced in "small events" like mutual relationships, encounters with the beautifully strange, and moments of prayer. These everyday instances reflect the divine power of "awesome weakness."
Translating Eros into Politics The challenge of holy anarchy is to translate the divine eros into public life—not through domination but by crafting policies that mirror the mutuality and spontaneity of small joys, embodying love and openness in practical ways.
The Kingdom of God
an Anti-Kingdom, a Sacred Anarchy, A Realm of Spontaneous Mutuality
"This kingdom, where God’s will is done, has been described using many different terms—the reign of God, the commonwealth of God, the kin-dom of God—each seeking to convey something of its contrast with the ways of the world. However, it’s not simply different from other kingdoms; it also disrupts them—it turns them on their head; it turns things inside-out. After all, in this new kingdom, the last shall be first and the first shall be last; it’s where the poor and those who mourn are blessed; it’s good news for the oppressed and release for the captives—and the rich and proud are humbled; it’s where wolves and lambs feed together in peace; it’s where the groans of creation lead to new birth, new creation.
In other words, since this new kingdom is so unlike the systems of the world, it has been argued that, as a kingdom of disruption and reversals, it’s better understood as ‘an anti-kingdom.’ As such, it has been called ‘sacred anarchy’—or ‘holy anarchy’—because anarchy is technically where there is no longer domination, control or coercion, but instead people live in freedom which is genuinely mutual. The power dynamics are transformed and there is meaningful room for ‘the little ones’ to thrive.
This is what the world looks like when God’s will is done: a great transformation, a turning upside- down, where the giants of power no longer hold sway and the multitudes who have suffered are free at last. A world without coercion by the powerful—either human or divine. But the question is—what kind of power makes such a world possible? And the answer is that it’s not merely a matter of one coercive power replacing another, but is a genuinely different power, a transforming and anarchic love."
The Pleasures of Holy Anarchy Appreciating the Theology of Graham Adams
In “Amipotence with Added Anarchy” (from Amipotence, Vol. 2), Graham Adams * redefines power and divine action in terms of sacred anarchy. For Adams, the divine does not operate through coercion, domination, or rigid hierarchical systems. Instead, God’s power—what Adams calls amipotence—is rooted in mutuality, relationality, and adaptability. It’s a power that is touched by the world, again and again, and yearns erotically for a world where freedom is genuinely mutual, where “the little ones” are empowered, and where hierarchical domination gives way to flourishing relationships.
Adams emphasizes that God is not static or detached but responds dynamically to the unfolding world. This divine responsiveness transforms the content of God’s yearning to meet the needs of the moment, creating a space for improvisation and creativity in the co-creation of the “anti-kingdom” he describes—a realm of sacred freedom and mutual care.
What might a state of holy anarchy look like? Adams' essay, and perhaps even more his book Holy Anarchy, stresses that is it initiated through activities that are, given the status quo, prophetic, destabilizing, and discomfiting. Christians engaged in helping bring about holy anarchy will not be popular among movers and shakers of Empire in its various guises. Particularly in the political sphere, vessels of holy anarchy will be disruptive, like the prophets of the Hebrew Bible and like Jesus. They will not necessarily be anarchists; they may see a need for governmental structures. But they will be opponents of any politics that sanctions and fosters domination, leaving out the least of these - the very young, the very old, and those in the shadows of dominant society.
Their emotions will be complex: they will know longing and anger, frustration and heartache - and they will share in the longings and heartaches of others, knowing that the Eros at the heart of the universe, God, likewise shares in such emotions.
Metaphors of Hope
And yet we humans, much less we Christians, cannot live by disturbance alone. We need our Yes's as well as our No's. We need images of beauty that inspire us, that give us a taste of what can be, that is on the "other side" of disturbance. We need positive images of holy anarchy, and what it might be like to "flourish" in anarchical states. I offer six metaphors for what it can feel like to taste, and enjoy, holy anarchy.
Improvisational Jazz In jazz, musicians co-create in real time, responding to one another’s contributions, the energy of the audience, and the mood of the moment. There is a structure—key, tempo, and melody—but within this structure, freedom abounds. Each musician interprets and improvises based on their unique perspective, skill, and emotional state, while still harmonizing with the collective sound. Holy anarchy emerges as a collective creation, where shared participation leads to a dynamic and evolving harmony.
Gardening Holy anarchy can be imagined as a garden, where each individual (or entity) is a plant growing within an ecosystem. The gardener (the divine) provides the conditions for growth—sunlight, water, and soil—but each plant grows uniquely, shaped by its own potential and interactions with its environment. The garden as a whole is a beautiful chaos of cooperation and interdependence, where wildness and cultivation meet.
Cooking Holy anarchy might be like cooking a communal meal, where each participant contributes ingredients, flavors, and methods. The recipe (divine guidance or cosmic structure) provides a general direction, but the final dish is a collaborative creation, influenced by the choices and improvisations of the cooks, the available ingredients, and even the taste preferences of those partaking. The kitchen becomes a space of creative disorder, where new flavors are born through shared effort.
Storytelling Holy anarchy can also be seen as an unfolding story, where each person is both an author and a character. The divine serves as the editor or co-author, offering prompts, suggestions, and inspiration but never dictating the entire narrative. Each chapter is shaped by past events, current choices, and the creative possibilities of what comes next. The resulting story is richly textured, alive with unexpected twists and turns that reflect the freedom of its participants.
Dancing Holy anarchy is like a dance, where individuals respond to the rhythm and flow of existence. The divine can be imagined as the music or as a dance partner, inviting movement but leaving space for personal interpretation and expression. The dance evolves as partners adjust to each other and to the broader dynamics of the floor, creating a choreography of freedom and connection.
River Flow Holy anarchy is like a river, flowing toward an unknown destination. Each tributary contributes to the current, shaping its direction and intensity. The divine is the gravitational pull or the guiding force of the water, shaping the landscape yet allowing the river to carve its own path. The flow is both ordered and free, reflecting the balance of chaos and creativity inherent in holy anarchy.
These metaphors illustrate holy anarchy as a sacred interplay of structure, freedom, and creativity.
In addition to such metaphors of hope, it can also help if we recognize that most of us experience tastes of holy anarchy in our daily lives, in what Adama calls "small events." He writes:
"Jesus, after all, points to the seed, the yeast, the child—small events, which I also call ‘awesome weakness.’ This is the kind of power which God exercises."
And, I add here, it is the kind of power we feel in the small events themselves. No, we do not live in a world where, all of the sudden, our communities, our nations, and the world at large are transformed into such anarchy. But we do know the joys of anarchy in daily life, and not only in moments of cooking, gardening, dancing, storytelling, and music making. We know them in (1) in our mutual relations with other people, (2) in our encounters with the beautifully strange, and (3) if we pray, in moments of prayer.
Mutual Relations with Others
In our interactions with other people, especially those based on mutual care and respect, we catch glimpses of holy anarchy. These moments might be as simple as a spontaneous conversation where both parties feel truly heard and understood, or as profound as a community coming together to support one another in times of need. Holy anarchy emerges in relationships where hierarchical structures dissolve, and participants interact as equals, co-creating spaces of trust, empathy, and shared humanity. As Adams highlights, these experiences are particularly vivid in our relationships with children, who naturally embody creativity, curiosity, and the power of mutual influence. Encounters with the Beautifully Strange
Holy anarchy is also present in our encounters with the beautifully strange—the moments when we are drawn out of our ordinary patterns by the unexpected, the mysterious, or the awe-inspiring. This could be a walk in nature where the sight of a bizarrely shaped tree sparks wonder, or an interaction with someone whose perspective challenges our assumptions and expands our horizons. These encounters disrupt our habitual ways of seeing and being, opening us to new possibilities and inviting us to engage with the world in a more open and relational way. The beautifully strange is a reminder that holy anarchy often begins with a sense of surprise and unfolds through our willingness to embrace the unfamiliar.
Prayer
Finally prayer, in its many forms, can be a profound expression of holy anarchy—a space where the structures of the status quo dissolve, and we open ourselves to the dynamic and relational nature of the sacred. Both addressive and contemplative prayer embody this interplay of structure and freedom, creating opportunities for co-creation with the divine.
In addressive prayer, where we speak to or petition the sacred, holy anarchy arises through the vulnerability and unpredictability of genuine dialogue. Addressive prayer invites us into a relational space where we bring our authentic selves—our fears, hopes, anger, and gratitude—without pretense or rigid formality. In this sacred conversation, we relinquish control, trusting that the divine hears and responds, not as a distant ruler but as a dynamic partner in the ongoing co-creation of life.
This form of prayer resists the temptation to see God as a cosmic fixer or unilateral force. Instead, it reflects the mutuality and adaptability of sacred anarchy, where we express ourselves freely and openly while remaining attuned to the subtle ways the divine might respond—through feelings, ideas, or moments of clarity. Addressive prayer becomes a dance of vulnerability and receptivity, fostering a relationship rooted in trust, creativity, and the possibility of transformation.
In contemplative prayer, holy anarchy manifests as a surrender to stillness and the mystery of being. Here, we move beyond words and petitions into a state of openness, allowing the divine presence to flow through us without seeking to control or direct the experience. Contemplative prayer dismantles hierarchical notions of power and understanding, inviting us to rest in the unstructured, untamed beauty of divine love.
This practice often feels anarchic because it challenges our need for certainty, productivity, and answers. By embracing silence and stillness, we become attuned to the sacred as it unfolds in the moment—a presence that is at once intimate and infinite, gentle and wild. Contemplative prayer becomes a way of participating in the divine flow, where the boundaries between self and sacred dissolve, and we experience the interconnectedness of all things.
Prayer as a Microcosm of Holy Anarchy
Both forms of prayer—addressive and contemplative—serve as microcosms of holy anarchy, inviting us to step out of rigid frameworks and into a living relationship with the sacred. Through prayer, we practice the principles of mutuality, adaptability, and creative engagement that define holy anarchy.
In addressive prayer, we co-create through dialogue, sharing our deepest truths and listening for the divine response. In contemplative prayer, we surrender to the sacred mystery, trusting the unfolding process without needing to impose order. Together, these practices nurture a spirituality that is dynamic, relational, and deeply aligned with the vision of holy anarchy—a sacred interplay of freedom, connection, and transformation.
Where does Holy Anarchy come from?
Where does holy anarchy originate? While it may be tempting for Christians to claim that it stems solely from God, the truth is far richer and more expansive. Holy anarchy arises not only from the divine but also from human beings, plants, animals, and other creatures capable of tasting spontaneity, embracing strangeness, and participating in mutual flourishing. It emerges from their inherent spontaneity and self-creativity, guided but never controlled by the divine Catalyst—a God who lures rather than dictates, inviting all into a dance of freedom and possibility, and who shares in their sufferings, longings, and joys.
And where does this spontaneity and self-creativity come from? In process theology, it arises from a creative abyss of which all creatures—and the God of love—are expressions. This abyss does not produce their self-creativity; rather, it is actualized through their self-creativity. The philosopher Whitehead calls this Creativity. God, he says, is its primordial expression but not its only one. Human beings and other creatures, on our planet and in any other world, are likewise expressions of this Creativity. Indeed, microbes and molecules, cells and atoms, stars and galaxies all embody it.
This self-creativity is not, in itself, axiological; it does not inherently "lean" toward mutuality or love. However, within the universe, there is something—its primordial expression—that does lean in this direction: the Holy One, the divine Catalyst. Amipotent? Yes. Omnipotent? No. The very nature of the Holy One is to incline toward and catalyze mutual flourishing. In this sense, the Holy One becomes both a human lure and a cosmic lure toward Holy Anarchy.
And the Holy One is an act of infinite receptivity, an infinite openness. The amipotence of God is not simply that of a lure toward creative mutuality; it is also a loving and open reception of whatever happens in the world. Indeed, as Adams suggests, it includes an eros toward openness, such that when we experience an eros toward mutuality, we are encountering the Eros of God.
The challenge lies in translating that Eros into political terms. This cannot be achieved through domination or the imposition of a social order. Instead, it will emerge through listening—seeking ways that our public policies might reflect our private joys: those intimate moments of anarchical love. Come, let us break bread together.
* Graham Adams is Tutor of Mission Studies, World Christianity and Religious Diversity, and program leader of the postgraduate degrees, at Luther King Centre for Theology and Ministry, in Manchester, UK. He is author of Holy Anarchy: Dismantling Domination, Embodying Community, Loving Strangeness (2022), and God the Child: small, weak and curious subversions (2024), blogs occasionally at graham.adams.substack.com and writes hymns.
Books by Graham Adams
Perhaps, after all, the decolonising agenda isn’t extra baggage the church needs to carry on top of everything else.
Perhaps, instead, it is the very heart of what the church should be about – disrupting, uncomfortable, and bringing about a kind of ‘holy anarchy’.
In Holy Anarchy, Graham Adams points to a realm in which all dynamics of domination, not least in the church, are subverted. It cuts across the loyalties and boundaries of religion and fosters the greatest possible solidarity amongst the different. Urgent and timely, the book weaves together themes around Empire, liberation and decolonial practice with an exploration of the nature and scope of church community, interreligious engagement, mission, and worship.
We express the mystery of God with diverse metaphors, but mostly in Adult terms. In this experimental theological adventure, Graham Adams imagines what might flow from a more thorough ‘be-child-ing’ of God. Aware that the Child can be idealized, he selects particular characteristics of childness in order to disrupt God’s omnipresence, omnipotence and omniscience. The smallness of the Child re-envisages divine location in sites of smallness, like an open palm receiving the experiences of the overlooked. The weakness of the Child reimagines divine agency as chaos-event, subverting prevailing patterns of power and evoking relationships of mutuality. And the curiosity of the Child reconceives divine encounter as horizon-seeker, imaginatively and empathetically pursuing the unknown.
These possibilities are brought into dialogue both with other theologies (Black, disabled and queer) and with pastoral loss, economic/ecological injustice, and theological education. Through these conversations, God the Child emerges not only as a new model for God, but intrinsic to God’s new social reality which is close at hand.
Addendum for the Musically Interested
Adams and Jazz Theology
The Opening Riff: God’s Erotic Yearning
Adams describes God’s eros as a divine yearning for mutuality and flourishing. In jazz terms, this is the opening riff—the melody that invites others to join in, interpret, and respond. God doesn’t dominate the composition but offers the first notes, inspiring improvisation and collaboration. The riff is relational, leaving space for creation to shape the unfolding melody.
Non-Coercive Power: Harmonizing with Creation
For Adams, divine power (amipotence) is not about control but persuasion, much like a jazz ensemble that listens and adapts to one another. God offers a harmonic framework, setting the conditions for creativity without dictating outcomes. Each participant is free to riff in their unique way, contributing to a shared beauty rooted in mutuality.
Improvisation and Mutual Flourishing
Sacred anarchy thrives on trust and shared creativity. Adams emphasizes the importance of “the little ones”—those excluded by rigid systems. In jazz, these are the unexpected voices, the solos that surprise and enrich the whole. Sacred anarchy amplifies these voices, ensuring that every contribution is woven into the larger composition.
Chaos as a Creative Spark
What appears as chaos in improvisation is often the source of its greatest beauty. Adams reframes the disorder of sacred anarchy as a generative space where divine and human creativity meet. Like jazz musicians leaning into dissonance, sacred anarchy finds harmony in complexity and transformation in the unpredictable.
God as the Cosmic Improviser
Adams’ vision of God adapting divine yearning to meet the moment aligns seamlessly with the improviser’s art. The divine doesn’t dictate but responds in real-time, shaping possibilities in tune with the rhythms of the world. God is a master improviser, turning the unexpected into transformative moments and the unplanned into something beautiful.
Sacred Disruption: The Anti-Kingdom as Jazz Revolution
Adams’ sacred anarchy is a theological jazz revolution, challenging oppressive hierarchies and replacing them with structures rooted in freedom, justice, and mutual care. Just as jazz historically disrupted musical norms, sacred anarchy disrupts rigid power systems, opening the way for creative, collaborative transformation.
The Call to Join the Ensemble
Adams’ sacred anarchy invites all of us into the performance. The divine melody plays through possibilities of justice, love, and creativity. Like a jazz ensemble, the anti-kingdom depends on each participant adding their unique voice, improvising together toward a freer, more beautiful world.