On 3 January, as part of what was described as his New Year’s resolution to pursue world peace, President Donald Trump, from his luxury Mar-a-Lago resort, oversaw the invasion of Venezuela and the extradition of its president, Nicolás Maduro, to the United States on charges of drug trafficking.
This alarming event does not stand alone. It comes amid a steady accumulation of brazen assertions of power by leaders from multiple continents, each one adding to the sense of global instability. While many nations express ongoing concern about the number of migrants crossing their borders, a far more pressing anxiety is emerging – the prospect of aggressors doing the same. As the world watches on in growing unease, I am reminded of the psalmist’s question: “Why do the nations rage?”
It is hard to know how to react to the extradition of Maduro. On the one hand, the former bus driver who became a despotic dictator – likely responsible for thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of extrajudicial killings – will not be widely mourned. On the other hand, US President Donald Trump acted without consulting Congress, without engagement with the United Nations, and without regard for international law. And so it raises profound questions: Is it acceptable for one nation to single-handedly assert itself over another? Who decides when sovereignty may be overridden and by what authority? Who is protected when precedent is set not by law or tradition or principle or consensus, but by strength?
If powerful nations conclude they may act unilaterally, without constraint, we are right to be deeply concerned about the fragile architecture of international order. If Russia can invade one neighbour with impunity, what is to stop it from targeting others? If China follows through on its long-signalled intention to invade Taiwan, and the United States asserts control over Greenland, which other nations might soon find themselves deemed expendable or acquirable?
Across the globe, the pattern is clear: the nations are still raging. Have we learned nothing in the thousands of years since Psalm 2 was written? Yet the psalmist’s “Why?” turns out not to be a question of lament or despair. It doesn’t ask “why” in order to demand a reason, but “why” as though to joke “what is the point?” All plotting and power-mongering schemes are ultimately futile. The nations belong to Jesus. God Himself scoffs at those who dare to suggest otherwise, who try to ignore His rule of righteousness.
A thousand years after it was written, Psalm 2 was quoted by disciples Peter and John, two ordinary, uneducated people, as they stood before Herod and Pontius Pilate. In Acts they are presented to us as examples of how not to be intimidated, of how to speak truth to power, and of how to trust in God’s ultimate authority, whatever the circumstances.
I recognise a growing sense of anxiety and foreboding in my own heart as I watch global events unfold. But I take inspiration from Peter and John, who had far less security and legal protection than I enjoy, and yet displayed faith and confidence in God when they encountered the dark side of power at close range.
As our world rages, Psalm 2 reassures us that despite the turmoil of human ambition, the nations belong ultimately to Jesus. Even when rulers conspire, wars erupt and injustice seems to prevail, God’s sovereignty is unshaken. Those who refuse to submit to God’s authority will face destruction. Those who do are promised blessing and refuge.
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