Skip to main content

The Danger of Pride

The Unseen War for Your Mind

I was sitting in my favourite chair in Akasia, the Pretoria sun baking the red earth in my garden, scrolling through my phone. A cascade of news: another coalition talks threatening to crumble in Tshwane, the relentless load-shedding schedule, a viral tweet dissecting the latest celebrity scandal. Then, an advertisement, sleek and persuasive: “Your truth is your power. Discover yourself. You are enough.”

The words sounded so reasonable, so empowering. But a chill went through me, a chill that had nothing to do with the Highveld breeze. It was the chill of recognition. I heard the hiss of the ancient serpent, repackaged for a modern South African audience, his lie not in a garden but in a digital stream.

You see, my friend, we are in a war. Not a war with political parties or power utilities—though those battles are real enough. This is a deeper, more fundamental conflict: The War for Your Mind. It is a battle between two opposing kingdoms, two rival definitions of truth.

The world tells you that truth is a personal construct, a feeling you curate like your social media feed. “Your truth is your truth, my truth is mine,” they say with a tolerant smile. It sounds so peaceful, doesn’t it? But this is a tactical retreat masquerading as a truce. It is a philosophy built on the shifting sand of subjective feeling. If my truth says I am the centre of the universe, and your truth says you are, what happens when our orbits collide? We see the answer every day on our roads, in our queues, in our parliament—a society fragmenting under the weight of a million contradictory “truths.”

But the Scripture declares unequivocally: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). Notice the definite article. Not a way, a truth, a life. The. This is an exclusive, objective, and absolute claim. In our culture, this is the ultimate scandal. It is the intellectual hill many refuse to die on.

Let us define our terms clearly. Truth is that which corresponds to reality, as defined by the ultimate Reality—God Himself. It is not invented; it is discovered. It is not felt; it is known. And Jesus Christ staked His life, death, and resurrection on the audacious claim that He is its perfect embodiment.

A common objection arises from my friends in coffee shops: “Harold, that’s so narrow-minded! So intolerant!”

But let’s think this through. Is a surgeon “narrow-minded” for precisely targeting the cancer and not the healthy tissue? Is an engineer “intolerant” for insisting that a bridge must obey the laws of physics and not his personal feelings about gravity? Of course not. Truth, by its very nature, is exclusive. Two plus two cannot equal five. You cannot jump off the Carlton Centre and defy gravity based on your personal truth. The law of lift and the law of the Lord are both unforgiving if ignored.

The modern creed of self-sovereignty is the termite in the timber of our souls. It whispers, “You built this life,” forgetting the Chief Architect. It is the giraffe’s high head, seeing far but tripping on roots the humble duiker sees clearly. This pride blinds us to the pitfalls that humility, grounded in God’s truth, navigates with wisdom. It forgets the rain—His grace—that filled our wells.

So how do we fight in this war? We must sound the alarm against this syncretism that blends a little Jesus with a lot of self, creating a comfortable, powerless idol. We do not fight with fists or fury, but with the formidable weapons of light and reason.

Picture a world where every Christian knew not only what they believed but why. Imagine if we could engage our colleagues, our neighbours, our university classmates not with clichés, but with clear, compassionate, and logical defence of the hope within us (1 Peter 3:15).

The argument can be formulated thus:

1. Premise 1: Truth about ultimate reality must be grounded in a source that transcends human opinion (i.e., God).

2. Premise 2: Jesus Christ, through His impeccable life, fulfilled prophecies, and historical resurrection, demonstrated unique authority to reveal that truth.

3. Premise 3: Jesus Christ claimed to be the exclusive embodiment of truth and the only path to God.

4. Conclusion: Therefore, to reject Christ’s claim is not to choose an alternative, equally valid “truth”; it is to choose an illusion that cannot save, satisfy, or stand before a holy God.

This is not a call to arrogance. It is a call to confidence. True liberation—from sin, from despair, from the exhausting performance of crafting your own truth—is found only in submitting to the Truth, who is a Person.

So, I pray from my home in Akasia, with the sounds of a struggling, beautiful South Africa outside my window: Father, shatter the tower of my pride. Give me the duiker’s humble eyes to see Your path clearly. Arm me with the sword of Your Spirit, which is Your Word—the ultimate truth in a world of deceitful drafts. Make me bold, make me reasonable, make me loving, as I contend for the faith in the marketplace of ideas.

Let us not be swayed by the siren songs of this age. Let us stand firm on the Rock. For in bowing low to Him, in surrendering our tiny, fictional kingdoms, we truly stand tall in grace. This is how we find our feet on solid ground, even as the world shifts around us.

Amen.



 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

**Restoring Relationships**

Last Tuesday, during Eskom’s Stage 6 load-shedding, I sat in my dimly lit Akasia living room, staring at a WhatsApp message from my cousin Thabo. Our once-close bond had fractured over a political debate—ANC vs. EFF—that spiraled into personal jabs. His text read: *“You’ve become a coconut, bra. Black on the outside, white-washed inside.”* My reply? A venomous *“At least I’m not a populist clown.”* Pride, that sly serpent, had coiled around our tongues.   But as the generator hummed and my coffee cooled, Colossians 3:13 flickered in my mind like a candle in the dark: *“Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”* Unconditional. No asterisks. No “but he started it.” Just grace.   **II. The Theology of Broken Pipes**   South Africa knows fractures. Our Vaal River, choked by sewage and neglect, mirrors relational toxicity—grievances left to fester. Yet, Christ’s forgiveness isn’t a passive drip; it’s a flash flood. To “bear with one another” (Colossians 3:13) is to choo...

The Firm Foundation of Faith

## The Firm Foundation of Faith **Scripture:** Hebrews 11:1 "Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see." **Thought:** Life's journey is often marked by uncertainty and challenges. This faith allows us to persevere, knowing that God is working, even when we can't see the immediate results. It empowers us to step forward with courage, knowing we're not alone. Embracing this understanding allows us to live with a peace that surpasses all understanding, a peace rooted in the unshakeable truth of God's love and faithfulness. **Action Plan:** Spend 15 minutes today in quiet meditation on Hebrews 11. Reflect on a specific area in your life where you need to strengthen your faith. **Prayer:** Heavenly Father, I come before You today acknowledging my need for a stronger faith. Help me to truly grasp the meaning of Hebrews 11:1, to trust in Your promises even when I cannot see the outcome. In Jesus’ name, Amen. My story  Th...

**Cultivating Patience**

 ## The Divine Delay: When God Hits Pause on Your Breakthrough (From My Akasia Veranda) Brothers, sisters, let me tell you, this Highveld sun beating down on my veranda in Akasia isn’t just baking the pavement. It’s baking my *impatience*. You know the feeling? You’ve prayed, you’ve declared, you’ve stomped the devil’s head (in the spirit, naturally!), yet that breakthrough? It feels like waiting for a Gautrain on a public holiday schedule – promised, but mysteriously absent. Psalm 27:14 shouts: *"Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage!"* But waiting? In *this* economy? With Eskom plunging us into darkness and the price of a loaf of bread climbing faster than Table Mountain? It feels less like divine strategy and more like celestial sabotage. I get it. Just last week, stuck in the eternal queue at the Spar parking lot (seems half of Tshwane had the same pap-and-chops craving), watching my dashboard clock tick towards yet another loadshedding slot, my ow...