Servanthood is the Signature of Greatness

The Basin and The Throne: Why Servanthood Is the Only True Greatness

By Harold Mawela | Akasia, Pretoria

I. The Inversion That Defies Every Instinct

Here in Akasia, where the winter wind whips through the streets and the power cuts plunge us into darkness more often than not, we understand power. We see it in the flickering lights of the wealthy homes with their generators humming—the modern scepter of privilege. We feel it in the tension between those who have and those who wait, always wait, for promises unfulfilled. In this South Africa of 2025, where our national psyche bears the scars of colonial arrogance, apartheid brutality, and post-liberation disappointments, we’ve developed a particular allergy to servitude. After being forced to kneel for so long, who wants to hear that true greatness is found in voluntary kneeling?

Yet Christ’s words in Matthew 23:11 strike with the force of divine contradiction: "The greatest among you must become a servant." This isn't spiritual suggestion; it's revolutionary mandate. In isiZulu we say, "Inkosi ibusa ngokubusa"—a leader leads by leading. But our Lord leads by washing feet. He rules by bending low. He conquers by dying. This isn't merely counter-cultural; it defies the very DNA of our fallen humanity.

II. The Night the Lights Went Out—Again

Last Tuesday, the familiar darkness fell during load-shedding stage 6. My neighbor, Ouma Pretorius, an elderly white woman who still remembers the old South Africa with complicated nostalgia, was struggling with her emergency lamp. Across the street, young Bongani, a taxi driver who protests against "white monopoly power" on social media, saw her fumbling in the dimness. Something remarkable happened. Bongani crossed the street—that racial and ideological canyon we navigate daily. He didn't post about solidarity; he practiced it. He fixed her lamp, then sat with her in the dark, sharing rooibos tea and stories of their respective grandchildren.

In that moment, Bongani wasn't performing wokeness. Ouma wasn't performing reconciliation. Both were simply being human—servant-human—in a way that felt more revolutionary than any political slogan. The towel and basin had overcome where decades of legislation and rhetoric had struggled. This is the scandalous practicality of Christian servanthood: it works precisely because it doesn't seek to work for anything but the good of the Other.

III. Deconstructing the World's Power Matrix

Jesus spoke Matthew 23:11 in a specific context—a confrontation with religious leaders who "tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger" (Matthew 23:4). Their leadership was about performance, position, and privilege. Sound familiar?

In our South African context, we've simply baptized these same impulses in new terminology. The politician who wears designer suits while preaching about the poor. The pastor with the R5 million car who promises prosperity. The activist who fights for equity but never invites the marginalized to their table. We’ve created what philosopher Steve Biko might have called a "theology of the status quo"—where God becomes the sanctifier of our upward mobility rather than the model of our downward journey.

Christ’s response dismantles this brick by brick:

1. The towel dismantles the throne: In John 13, Jesus—knowing "that the Father had given all things into his hands" (the ultimate power!)—gets up from the meal and wraps a towel around his waist . Divine authority expresses itself in undignified service. The King of Glory washes road dust from the feet of fishermen—including the one who would betray him.

2. The basin anoints more than the scepter: The disciples argued about who would sit at Christ's right hand (Mark 10:37). They envisioned a political cabinet reshuffle. Jesus presented a washbasin. In God's economy, the tool of cleansing holds more authority than the symbol of command.

3. The calloused hand wields truer power than the idle scepter: Jesus earned his calluses in a Nazareth carpenter's shop before he earned his crown at Calvary. The hands that formed galaxies learned to form yokes for oxen—and would later have nails driven through them. Real leadership bears the marks of tangible labor.

Table: The Two Kingdoms' Leadership Models

Worldly Power Model Christ's Servant Model

Demands to be served Seeks to serve 

Seeks prominent positions Takes the lowest place (Luke 14:10)

Exercises authority over Empowers from under 

Claims rights Relinquishes privileges (Philippians 2:5-7)

Inspired by Roman emperors Modeled by a condemned criminal

IV. The African Crisis of Misplaced Masculinity

Here in our townships and suburbs, we face a particular pathology—what I call the crisis of hollow masculinity. Our young men are told simultaneously to be "strong" (dominant, unemotional, controlling) and to reject "toxic masculinity" (often without being shown a better way). The result is confusion incarnate. We produce either thugs or therapists, but rarely servant-leaders.

Christ offers a third way—robust servanthood. Consider his physicality: walking miles daily, fasting forty days, overthrowing temple tables, enduring the torture of crucifixion. This is no feeble piety! Yet this strength consistently channeled itself toward protection of the vulnerable, healing of the broken, and service to the undeserving.

Siya Kolisi, our Springbok captain, embodies this paradox beautifully. Here is a man who grew up in poverty, who now stands as world champion, yet uses his platform to feed hungry children through the Kolisi Foundation . His toughness on the field is matched by his tenderness toward the marginalized. He leads by serving—and thus embodies true African masculinity better than any chest-thumping politician or gender-based violence perpetrator.

V. The Unassailable Logic of Servant-Greatness

Some will object: "This sounds noble, but it's impractical! In the real world, the sharks eat the meek." Let's dismantle this objection with logical precision:

Syllogism Major Premise: True greatness is measured by lasting impact (eternal significance). Minor Premise:Lasting impact is achieved through sacrificial love (which requires servanthood). Conclusion:Therefore, true greatness is achieved through servanthood.

The evidence? Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison yet emerged not with vengeance but with reconciling servanthood—and transformed a nation . His greatness wasn't in his presidency but in his willingness to serve even his former oppressors. Contrast this with the multitude of African "big men" who hoard power and wealth, only to be overthrown and forgotten within years.

The world tells us: CLIMB! Christ tells us: BEND! The flesh insists:BE SERVED! The Spirit insists: SERVE! Culture praises:THE INFLUENCER! Scripture praises: THE FOOT-WASHER!

This isn't mere rhetoric—it's cosmic reality. God Himself governs the universe by serving it continually through sustaining grace (Colossians 1:17). The One who needs nothing serves everything. Therefore, when we serve, we don't merely "imitate Christ"—we participate in the fundamental rhythm of reality itself.

VI. The Towel as Our True Weapon

How then shall we live in this South Africa of rolling blackouts, potholed roads, and stubborn inequalities? We must weaponize servanthood.

Practical Discipleship in the Servant-Led Life:

1. Embrace visible meniality: Intentionally take on tasks deemed "beneath you"—clean the church toilets, help your domestic worker with laundry, serve in the nursery. Let your hands remember what your heart must learn.

2. Practice interrogative listening: Instead of formulating your next brilliant statement in conversations, ask questions that unearth others' hidden burdens. "How is your mother's diabetes?" "Did your child pass that mathematics exam?" Seek first to understand, then to be understood .

3. Redistribute honor: In meetings, amplify quiet voices. At braais, serve others first. In conversations, acknowledge others' contributions explicitly. Become a conduit of recognition rather than a reservoir of credit.

4. Lead from underneath: Like a skilled mineworker who knows the timber supports must bear weight from below, learn to elevate others from your supportive position. Your goal isn't to be the charismatic figure upfront but the hidden strength enabling others' success.

5. Sanctify your irritations: That colleague who always complains? See them as your sanctification assignment. The slow cashier? Your chance to practice patience. Convert daily irritations into opportunities for servant-response.

VII. The Ultimate Servant’s Victory

We end at the cross—where the Servant of all stretched out his arms and died between criminals. Here, the paradox achieves its brutal, beautiful climax: the moment of utmost humiliation becomes the site of ultimate victory. The throne of shame becomes the engine of redemption.

This is why servanthood isn't weakness—it's warfare conducted by different means. While the world’s powers fight with weapons and wealth, the servant wages war with love and sacrifice. And history proves which force ultimately prevails: Roman emperors lie in dust, while the name of the crucified Nazarene is worshipped across the globe.

So carry your towel, beloved. Seek the basin. Embrace the calloused hands of humble service. For in God’s upside-down kingdom, the path upward always leads downward. The way to true greatness is found only in becoming the servant of all.

Prayer: Father, in this land of beautiful struggle, clothe us in humility’s towel. Let our service be our signature, and our lowered posture lift others to see You. Where we seek recognition, grant us obscurity. Where we desire prominence, give us hiddenness. Make us like Your Son—who, being God, became Servant for our broken world. Amen