When Control Feels Safer Than Surrender: An Outsider's Problem with Kings

Dear reader,

I keep stumbling over the same word in church: Lord. King. Sovereign. The language makes my stomach tighten, not because I'm uncomfortable with authority, but because history taught us that unchecked authority corrupts. Americans revolted against monarchy. Japanese democracy emerged from the ashes of imperial absolutism. Right now, "No Kings" protests are happening across the US over a president who praises Xi Jinping's move to abolish term limits and jokes about running for a third term. We've learned this lesson too many times. So when Christianity asks us to submit to a King, every alarm we've carefully installed starts ringing.

The Reluctant Leader We're Looking For

The gut reactions pile up:

• Blind obedience sounds like disabling our accountability safeguards
• A king without term limits? That's a dictator by another name
• Submission feels like throwing away critical thinking

Yet we're all searching for the same impossible thing: a leader who won't corrupt, who'll stay good forever. Medieval fiction hunts for it. Japanese isekai light novels transport their protagonists to fantasy kingdoms ending up as the benevolent monarch. Even American founding mythology centers on George Washington. When a military officer suggested he become king in 1782, Washington immediately rejected it and later resigned his military commission as an anti-monarchical statement. We want someone who doesn't want the throne. Someone who leads because they must, not because they crave it.

My priest asked me a question I couldn't shake: "If there truly existed a loving, perfect, logical, and impartial leader, wouldn't you want them to lead forever?"

And I thought: Yes. That's exactly what I tried to build.

The Algorithm as Substitute King

During my doctoral studies, I proposed developing AI governance systems. Not because I worship technology, but because I've watched too many "right" decisions get twisted by media optics, political windows, emotional appeals. We know judges are influenced by irrelevant factors. We know policy favors whoever's loudest or richest, not what's most just.

Society forces us to pick sides. Left or right, with us or against us. The actual "right" answer usually lives in some nuanced, uncomfortable middle that nobody wants. Being in the middle, a jack-of-all-trades, half-blooded, between two cultures? It's by default less desirable than being a specialist in today's world.

An AI trained on proper methodology could theoretically reduce human bias. Calculate optimal paths without caring about reelection. Make decisions based on outcomes rather than which donor to please. For earthly governance in a society with separation of church and state, this feels cleaner than the corruption we see in human systems.

Social Construction of Technology theory teaches us that we embed our values into everything we create. Take the Japanese genkan, that entryway where you remove your shoes. Often there's a small step marking the threshold between outside dirt and inside cleanliness. It embeds cultural values about boundaries and respect. When accessibility requirements came to Japan, some architects designed ramps that still incorporate a slight rise. They maintained the symbolic boundary while accommodating new values about inclusion. We can't help but build what we know.

So when I propose AI governance, whose values am I really coding? Mine. Society's. The same flawed patterns I claim to be solving for. Maybe my AI governance fantasy is just my way of engineering authority I can control. One I design the values for, one that doesn't ask me to surrender my autonomy to something I didn't architect.

What Jesus Actually Did

But here's what keeps nagging at me: Jesus, this supposed King, spent his time washing dirty feet. Touched lepers. Forgave the people executing him. Chose death over self-preservation. He had all authority and used it to serve the least powerful.

If this is monarchy, it's a version no earthly king has ever attempted. Washington walked away from power, yes, but still wielded it while he had it. Jesus inverted the entire structure. He wielded power by giving it away, led by descending, reigned by dying.

That's not the leadership pattern that triggers our alarms. That's the leadership pattern we claim to want but never believe actually exists.

The Bible even acknowledges our struggle with authority. Romans 13:1-7 tells us to submit to governing authorities because God establishes them. But it also assumes those authorities will punish evil and reward good. What do we do when that's not the case? When human authority corrupts? Our instinct to build checks and balances isn't wrong. It's survival wisdom for a fallen world.

Still, I'm stuck wondering: Is my hesitation good instinct or arrogance? In a world of human leaders, skepticism keeps us safe. But if the Kingdom of God operates on completely different logic, if none of our carefully constructed values about power and accountability apply there, what does that mean for everything we've learned?

We're told we're "not of this world," which supposedly explains why this world feels off. But we don't always want to leave this one either. We like our friends, our families, our critical thinking. We like having guardrails. If heaven runs on values incompatible with what we've built up, won't it feel utterly foreign?

I keep returning to this theme: I want the full story. The complete knowledge. Some cosmic miracle where we gain full empathy and understanding of God's values, as if they are our own, when we cross over.

Maybe that's the point. Maybe the question isn't "Can I trust this King?" but "Am I confusing human patterns of authority with divine ones?" Perhaps my desire for control, even algorithmic and supposedly neutral, is itself what keeps me from recognizing incorruptible leadership when it's standing right in front of me, asking to wash my feet.

What I'm Trying

I might be wrong if I'm using human corruption as the template for understanding divine authority. But here's what I'm attempting:

Study the inversions. When Christian language triggers alarm bells, ask: "How did Jesus subvert this same power structure?" Read the foot-washing scene in John 13. Notice what it reveals about power used to serve rather than dominate.

Name what I'm protecting. What am I guarding when I insist on being the architect of my own systems? Write it down. Is it wisdom or just control?

Read Romans 13 alongside the Gospels. Notice how Paul tells us to submit to authorities and how Jesus redefined what godly authority looks like. Hold the tension.

Ask someone who chose surrender. Find a Christian who gave up control over something significant. Not their critical thinking but their certainty. Ask them what it cost and what they found.

Examine one "middle ground" I avoid. Where do I refuse to pick a side because the nuance makes me uncomfortable? What does that reveal about my need for clarity versus God's comfort with mystery?

Maybe this is all elaborate rationalization. Maybe faith requires leaping without calculating the fall. But I'm learning that Christianity might not ask us to delete our skepticism. Just to examine whether our safeguards are protecting us from danger or from transformation.

A Prayer for Those Who Build Their Own Kings

For Endurance (Book of Common Prayer, Prayer for Friday)
Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the Cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord. Amen.

A Personal Prayer
God, I'm afraid to stop building my own systems of control. I don't know if my hesitation is wisdom or just fear that won't trust you. If you're the King who descends instead of demands, help me see it. If you're asking me to surrender the architect role, show me what I'm actually protecting. I don't have faith yet. Just this uncomfortable sense that the authority I'm designing might be keeping out the only King who won't corrupt. Meet me here, in my resistance to surrender. I'm trying to be honest about what scares me. That's all I have right now. Amen.

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