Skip to main content

The Tongue’s Tiller


The Tongue’s Tiller

Scripture: "The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit." - Proverbs 18:21 (NIV)

My friends, let me tell you about the day my tongue became a weapon of mass destruction. It was right here, in the thick of a Pretoria traffic jam, the sun baking the tar on the N1. My phone buzzed with a message from a brother in the faith, questioning a decision I’d made. Instead of pausing, instead of praying, I let fly a fiery flurry of words on WhatsApp—a sarcastic, self-righteous retort. I didn’t just type it; I launched it. I hit send, and instantly, the Holy Spirit pricked my heart. The digital silence that followed was heavier than the load-shedding darkness that falls over Akasia each evening.

My words, like a reckless farmer scattering weed seeds, had sown thorny thistles of tension in a field God had called me to cultivate. I had to call him, my voice shaky, and ask for forgiveness. The damage was done in a second; the repair work would take time.

This is the sobering reality. We live in an age of verbal artillery. Social media is a battlefield where we fire off 280-character condemnations. Our political discourse, from the heated debates in Parliament to the shouts in our taxi ranks, is a cacophony of curses, not a symphony of solutions. We speak of Ubuntu—"I am because we are"—while our tongues are sharpened spears aimed at the very "we" we claim to uphold.

But why is this so critical? Let us define our terms with logical precision. The Apostle James, with brutal clarity, lays out the argument:

Premise 1: The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. A bit in a horse's mouth directs its whole body. A small rudder steers a massive ship. (James 3:3-5).

Premise 2:The tongue, though small, can set the whole course of one's life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell. (James 3:6).

Conclusion:Therefore, if this small, untamable force guides the whole body and the whole course of life, mastering it is not a minor spiritual discipline; it is the central battlefield for the direction of our lives, our communities, and our nation.

A common objection is, "But I'm just speaking my truth! I'm venting! My words aren't that powerful." Ah, but this is the great deception! Is it not true that we all feel the searing scar of a word spoken over us in childhood? Or the life-giving power of a timely "I believe in you"? Your words are not merely puffs of air; they are prophetic. They programme your future.

Imagine, if you will, two farmers side by side in the rich soil of the Lowveld. One, out of laziness or malice, sows the seeds of the invasive Chromolaena odorata, the triffid weed that chokes the life out of the land. The other carefully plants rows of golden maize. You would call the first farmer a fool! You would weep for the desolate harvest he is guaranteeing for himself. Yet, this is what we do daily. We sow words of bitterness, gossip, and fear, and then we have the audacity to be surprised when our lives are overgrown with anxiety, broken relationships, and despair.

Jesus Christ, the Logos—the ultimate Word of God through whom all things were created—spoke and calmed storms, raised the dead, and forgave sins. Your tongue, Christian, holds that same, terrifying potential for creation or catastrophe. Every sentence is a seed sown into the soil of someone’s soul, into the fabric of your own tomorrow.

So, what is the answer in a nation groaning for life-giving words? We must sound the alarm against the cultural compromise that says our private speech doesn't matter. We must go beyond mere "positive thinking" and tap into the prophetic power of proclamation. We must align our confession with God’s Word.

Your world will harvest what your heart confidently confesses. Are you confessing the problem or prophesying the potential? Are you rehearsing the bad news or declaring the Good News? When load-shedding hits and the darkness descends, do you curse the darkness or command your household, "We will not be defeated; we have the light of Christ"? When faced with a mountain of debt, do you complain about the economy, or do you speak to that mountain, "Be lifted up and cast into the sea" in the name of Jesus?

This is not a name-it-and-claim-it gimmick. This is a spiritual law as real as gravity. It is the indlela yeZithelo—the way of the harvest. You will eat the fruit of your lips.

Therefore, reason itself, illuminated by Scripture and confirmed in our deepest longings for a better South Africa, compels us to acknowledge that our greatest need is not a new government first, but a new vocabulary. It starts here. It starts with me. It starts with you. Let us lay down our verbal weapons. Let us surrender our tongues to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. Let our words till the hard soil of this land for God’s purpose, planting seeds of life, hope, and redemption today.

Prayer: Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, I repent of my reckless words. Forgive me for the strife I have seeded. Today, I surrender my tongue to You. Be the guardian of my mouth. Set a watchman before my lips. Let my speech be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that I may know how to answer everyone. Let my words till the soil for Your purpose, planting life and not death, for the healing of our nation and for Your glory. Amen.



 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Rooster’s Restoration

The Rooster’s Restoration: When Failure Becomes Your Foundation By Harold Mawela Akasia, Pretoria Scripture: “The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly.” (Luke 22:61-62) I woke up this past Tuesday to the sound of a rooster crowing somewhere in the dusty streets of Akasia. My neighbour, old Mr. Dlamini, keeps a few chickens in his backyard—much to the annoyance of the municipality, but that is a story for another day. That crow pierced the morning silence like a prophet’s whisper. And immediately, my mind went to Simon Peter. Now, let me be honest with you. For years, I preached Peter’s denial as a cautionary tale—a warning against pride, a lesson in failure. I stood behind pulpits in Mamelodi, in Soshanguve, in the city centre, and I would point my finger and say, “Don’t be like Peter! He boasted when he should have pray...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Law of the Open Hand

The Law of the Open Hand: From Scarcity to Divine Supply in a Clenched-Fist World By Harold Mawela From my study in Akasia, Pretoria, I look out at a nation holding its breath. We live in the perpetual tension between promise and provision, between what is pledged from podiums and what is present in our pantries. The headlines scream of crises competing for our fragmented attention, while our hearts whisper the ancient, agonizing question: “Will there be enough?” In this climate, a primal instinct takes hold: the clench. We clench our fists around our finances, our futures, our fragile sense of security. Yet, I come to you today with a counter-intuitive, kingdom truth, a law as immutable as gravity but activated by faith: The Law of the Open Hand. The Parable of the Tightened Fist: A Story from Soshanguve Let me tell you a story. Not from a dusty theological text, but from the sun-baked streets of Soshanguve. I visited a community kitchen run by a widow, Gogo Mthembu. Her pension was a...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Investigator's Faith

The Investigator’s Faith: Where Reason and Revelation Meet in the African Soul A Personal Encounter with Truth My friends, let me tell you about the day I became a detective of the divine. It was right here in Akasia, Pretoria, where the red soil stains your shoes and the summer heat shimmers like a mirage over the Mabopane Highway. I was sitting in my study, surrounded by books—theological tomes, scientific journals, and the daily newspaper filled with stories of load-shedding and political turmoil. That particular day, the front page carried a story about our local police station struggling with only five operational vehicles to serve 152 square kilometers . Can you imagine? How does one enforce justice without proper tools This got me thinking about our spiritual tools—how we investigate the greatest claims of truth. Are we properly equipped? I recall my uncle, a lifelong skeptic, challenging me: "How can an educated man like you believe a dead man came back to life?" Inst...
Post a Comment
Read more