How the mighty have fallen!

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Back in 2010, when my new curate arrived, we drew up a 13-point working agreement. Point 12 was very clear: neither Phil nor any member of his family was permitted, under any circumstance, to wear or display Manchester United merchandise in their home.

That was fifteen years ago, when United under Sir Alex were still one of Europe’s strongest sides — winning trophies (often courtesy of “Fergie time”), bringing through new talent, adjusting to life without Ronaldo, and managing to irritate just about everyone else while they did it.

So their spectacular defeat to lowly Grimsby Town on Wednesday was greeted with more than a little schadenfreude — every neutral quietly savouring it. How the mighty have fallen!

"How the mighty have fallen!” is a direct quote from the Bible, three times, in fact,  from the same chapter in the Old Testament book of 2 Samuel, leading to its conclusion “How the mighty have fallen!  The weapons of war have perished!”

A very different context, of course:  David is heart-broken, but nevertheless he speaks a timeless truth. Empires, leaders, institutions — all rise and fall. David’s cry is more than mockery: it’s lament, a recognition that even the mighty cannot escape decline.  If you have been supporting Everton as long as I have, you’ve seen them come and go.

We humans easily mistake greatness for permanence. What seems set in stone can crumble almost overnight.

Like Rome. When Jesus was crucified under the authority of Pontius Pilate, the Roman Empire bestrode the world, its shadow stretching across every page of the New Testament. It seemed immovable, destined to last forever.

Much of the apostle Paul’s writing was to guide those early Christians — a tiny minority — on how to live under Roman rule, propped up by military might and extensive slavery. It was, so to speak, a given.

So he writes: “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established.” (Romans 13:1)  Taxes, respect, and honour are due to the emperor’s officials.

For believers in Rome, this was no small command. The emperor could be capricious, governors unjust. Yet Paul insists that Christians should be known for order, not rebellion, even though his ultimate allegiance was to Christ.

Yet one book stands out in its perspective on Rome’s apparent might — the last book of the Bible, Revelation. Its writer is granted a glimpse through an open door into the throne room of heaven, where true power resides.

Rome had its thrones, its Caesars, its armies and provinces stretching across the world. But Revelation lifts the curtain to show another throne — eternal, unshaken, surrounded not by legions but by angels and elders, where the Lamb who was slain is declared worthy.

Against that vision, the pomp of Rome is exposed as fragile and passing. For all its claims to permanence, the empire was just another in the long line of human powers that rise and fall. Just another Babylon, an empire doomed to fall: “Woe! Woe to you, great city, you mighty city of Babylon! In one hour your doom has come!” (Revelation 18:10)

Here Jesus is portrayed as the Lamb — weak in appearance, slain on a cross — yet ultimately triumphant. “They will wage war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will triumph over them because he is Lord of lords and King of kings — and with him will be his called, chosen and faithful followers” (Revelation 17:14).

As Christians, we are not to be dazzled or intimidated by the power structures of this world, however much they flaunt their might. We serve the God of David against Goliath.

This works both ways. We are not to be disheartened by our weakness — whether as individual disciples or as the church of Christ. The truth still stands: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37).

Yet when the opposite is true — when we feel strong, or when the church carries weight in the community — it becomes all too easy to rely on our own status. It wasn’t so long ago that the church stood as the dominant institution in our society, when we were, in a sense, the Manchester United of our day.

But history shows that whenever the church has chased political power, the results have been disastrous. Dependence on the Spirit’s guidance and grace is quickly undercut. Instead we rely on our own strength, we trust in our own resources.

So whether in football, politics, empire, or even the church, the lesson is the same: human power rises and falls, often more quickly than we imagine. Manchester United, Rome, even the church in its season of dominance — none are permanent. But influence shaped by faith, humility, and the Spirit endures.

As the late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks reminded us that the church should seek influence and not power.  And the influence of Christ — the Lamb who was slain yet reigns as Lord of lords and King of kings — is the one certainty that will never fall.

So come on, Grimsby Town, in your third-round tie against Sheffield Wednesday!