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**The Slow Burn of Grace**


The air in Akasia hangs thick with the scent of braai (barbecue) smoke and the rhythmic hum of city life. I'm nestled here in Pretoria, pondering the paradox of instant gratification in a world that seemingly demands immediate results. My recent research into South African society, from the vibrant street life to the complexities of our political discourse, reinforces this observation. Everywhere, there's a craving for the quick fix, the instant win. But when it comes to matters of the heart, matters of faith, a slow burn is often the only way to truly experience the profound heat of grace.

Psalm 40:1 resonates deeply with me: "I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry." It's not a passive waiting, a resigned acceptance of slow progress. It's an active waiting, a cultivation of the soil of our hearts, allowing the seeds of faith to take root and grow. Imagine a vine, delicate and slender at first. It needs time to anchor itself deep within the earth, to absorb the nutrients of the soil, before it can climb towards the sun and bear fruit. Faith is similar.

My own journey exemplifies this. Recently, I've been struggling with the relentless flow of social media updates – a constant barrage of seemingly effortless accomplishments. The pressure to keep up, to "have it all," threatens to overwhelm me. The recent debate around social media influencers and their impact on self-esteem, particularly amongst young people, feels extremely relevant. South Africa's vibrant digital space mirrors this global trend, showcasing a relentless pressure to portray an ideal self.

But my struggles remind me: true fruitfulness doesn’t come from rushing. It comes from nurturing a deep relationship with the divine. This isn't about some mystical, passive experience. It's about active engagement with the divine through prayer, stillness, and gratitude. We need to rediscover the quiet spaces, the moments of stillness, within our hectic schedules. These spaces offer an opportunity to encounter the divine grace simmering beneath the surface.

In the face of this whirlwind of social media validation, and our nation's complex socio-economic issues, I choose to find my solace in prayer and gratitude. Instead of succumbing to the urge to find immediate solutions to pressing national and personal issues, I find myself engaging with the profound truth that profound healing takes time. The slow burn of grace, patiently cultivated, yields a lasting fruit. This applies to personal challenges too, like navigating the notorious Pretoria traffic – a daily test of patience. I try to view these delays, not as inconveniences, but as opportunities to pray, breathe, and appreciate the moments of stillness.

Christian theology, at its core, is a celebration of this slow-burn process. The parable of the sower highlights this idea perfectly. The seeds that fall on fertile ground don't bear fruit overnight. Similarly, the parable of the talents, while often misinterpreted as an encouragement to do more, actually underscores the importance of the faithful use of what we are given, even in seeming stillness.

In a nation grappling with issues of inequality, crime, and socio-economic hardship, I find a strength in the grace that transcends human limitations. The slow burn of patience allows the embers of hope to ignite, to build into a flame that can illuminate our path toward healing, reconciliation, and a more just South Africa. This approach challenges the relentless pressure for immediate returns and instead, encourages a contemplative engagement with divine grace. It's a call to mindful living, to savoring the moments, and finding the sacred in the seemingly mundane. It is a theological reflection on the profound truth that in waiting, we find not an absence of grace, but its abundant presence.


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