It begins, innocently enough, with the weather – autumnal and aggressively mundane. The kind of long-weekend observation that should go nowhere.

And yet, set against the quiet gravity of ANZAC weekend with its memory of sacrifice, service, and a national story marked by both courage and cost, it doesn’t stay small for long. In trueAwkward Asian Theologians fashion, the conversation spirals into something far less containable: a meditation on power.

Not the obvious kind - titles, authority, or who controls the group chat - but the subtler force that lingers in the background of things. The kind that shapes identities over time: habits, expectations, instincts you never consciously chose. Power that forms even as it limits, that is carried, absorbed and endured.

Drawing from both cultural experience and Catholic imagination, Matt and Dan circle this idea of power as something more than oppressive – as something quietly productive, even creative, shaping who we are beneath the level of awareness. Like calligraphy ink bleeding just slightly beyond the brushstroke, it works subtly, persistently, almost without notice – far more feng shui than force. Especially on a weekend like this, where memory itself becomes a kind of power, the question isn’t just who has it, but how it settles into us, rearranges us, and lingers like the last sip of tea gone cool.

Naturally, this leads to Scripture, which refuses to leave power comfortably defined. In Jesus Christ, power is not discarded but transfigured from the inside - expressed through self-gift, humility, and a disarming refusal to play by expected rules. Strength looks like surrender and divine authority looks like service. What emerges is not a denial of power, but a far more demanding vision of it – one that presses into the texture of our everyday Christian lives.

Somewhere between the crisp autumn air and the Gospel, it becomes clear that power is not just something we talk about. It’s something we’re already participating in.