Daily Grace in a Bulk Download World: A South African’s Journey
There’s a particular kind of light over Akasia in the late afternoon. The sun, weary from its work, paints the Moot with a golden brush, and the dust from the untarred roads hangs in the air like a million tiny stars. It was on such an afternoon, sitting on my porch and watching a neighbour’s donkey cart rumble past a brand-new BMW, that the modern paradox of our faith struck me with full force. We live in a world of instant downloads—from gigabytes of data in a blink to next-day delivery for our every whim—yet the God of the universe, the one who spoke galaxies into being, chooses to dispense His grace like the daily manna He provided in the desert: enough for today, and no more.
This truth, I’ve found, is both the anchor for our souls and the stone on which our modern, impatient spirituality stumbles. We want the ten-year plan, the bulk blessing, the once-off salvation experience that includes a pre-written, trouble-free life script. But the words of Christ in the Gospel of Matthew are uncompromising on this point: “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble” (Matthew 6:34). This is not a spiritual suggestion; it is a philosophical and practical blueprint for sustainable discipleship.
The Philosopher Christ and the Manna Principle
We often miss the radical intellectual rigour of Jesus. In ancient times, as scholars note, he was depicted in philosopher’s robes, his teaching seen as a competing philosophy—superior to the Stoics and Epicureans . He wasn’t just a spiritual figure; he was a master thinker, the Logos—the logic of God made flesh . His command not to worry about tomorrow is, in fact, a profound philosophical argument from reality.
Let’s define our terms. Grace, in this context, is not merely unmerited favour for salvation, but the total divine enablement—the strength, wisdom, and courage—for the moment. The “bulk download” fallacy is the human expectation that God will pre-emptively equip us for all future hypotheticals, thereby making us independent of a moment-by-moment relationship with Him. It is the desire for the gift over the Giver.
Jesus, the great philosopher, dismantles this with a simple logical structure that we can formalise:
· Premise 1: God, as a loving Father, provides perfectly for His children (as seen in the natural world: the birds, the lilies).
· Premise 2: Human anxiety cannot add a single hour to our lives; it is, therefore, functionally irrational.
· Premise 3: Human capacity is finite—we can only genuinely live and act in the present moment.
· Conclusion: Therefore, to live in tomorrow’s anxiety is to live outside of both reality and faith. It is to functionally doubt the premise of God’s present provision.
A common objection arises: “But doesn’t the Bible call us to plan? Are we not to count the cost?” Indeed. But there is a chasm of difference between wise planning, which is a present-moment act of stewardship, and anxious pre-living, which is a future-tense act of distrust. Planning sows seeds today; anxiety tries to force a harvest from un-sown fields.
Confronting Our South African “Load-Shedding” Souls
Now, let’s bring this truth home, to the soil of Tshwane and the heart of modern South Africa. We are a people uniquely positioned to understand this. Our national life is a masterclass in the frustration of bulk downloads. We’ve lived through the promise of 1994, a moment of transcendent grace that felt like a national download of hope. Yet, we’ve learned that a democracy is not built in a day. It is a daily provision of courage, integrity, and relentless effort.
Consider the recent news. Just last week, the G20 summit right here in Johannesburg closed amid the stark absence of a major power . The grand plans for global cooperation were challenged, not with a bang, but with a diplomatic boycott. It was a global picture of what we experience locally: the path is rarely lit for ten steps ahead. It lights up just ahead, as we move. We see this in the shocking allegations of men being tricked into fighting a foreign war, lured by the false promise of a bulk provision of wealth and skills . The tragedy is a stark metaphor for a spirituality that seeks to bypass the daily cross for a promised, instant glory.
Our context is also one of remarkable theological ferment. South African theology, forged in the fire of apartheid and its aftermath, has long wrestled with how God’s truth meets the daily grind of injustice . The great danger we face now, after that pivotal struggle, is a loss of direction, a theological gloom that leads to apathy . Why? Because the monumental battle against a clear evil provided a seemingly “bulk” sense of purpose. The daily, less-glamorous work of building a just society requires a different kind of grace—a daily, persistent, often unseen faithfulness.
This is the prophetic edge of this message for us, the South African church. We are tempted by the bulk download of prosperity gospel, which promises a lifetime of wealth in one prayer. We are seduced by the bulk download of political messianism, which promises one leader or party will solve all our problems. These are heresies of impatience. They are theological syncretism, blending the truth of God’s sovereignty with the world’s lust for instant gratification.
The Rhythm of Manna: A Personal Akasia Story
Let me tell you a story from this very suburb. My own heart is prone to anxiety. I once lay awake, the sounds of Akasia my only company—the distant hum of the N1, a barking dog—my mind racing with a decade’s worth of “what-ifs.” What if my health fails? What if my children stray? What if the economy collapses? I was, as the saying goes, borrowing trouble from tomorrow at a usurious interest rate.
The breakthrough came not in a vision, but in a chore. The next day, frustrated and weary, I decided to fix the leaking tap in my kitchen. It was a small, present-moment problem. As I turned off the water, removed the washer, and fitted a new one, I was fully present in that single, simple task. The sweat on my brow was today’s sweat. The triumph of the stopped leak was today’s triumph. In that moment, I understood the manna.
The Israelites in the desert could not store the manna. If they tried, it bred worms and stank (Exodus 16:20). Likewise, the grace I was trying to hoard for future battles was already spoiling in my soul, producing the worms of fear and the stench of faithlessness. God’s provision for my potential future illness is not available to me today. But His provision for my fear of illness is available to me right now, in the form of peace that passes understanding. His grace for a future persecution is not mine to claim. But His grace for my courage to speak a word of truth to a neighbour today is abundantly accessible.
This is the winsome, reasonable life of faith. It is not a blind leap into the dark. It is a trusting step into a well-lit circle of grace that moves with you. The path lights up just ahead because the God who is I AM—the eternal Present—is the one holding the lamp. He is not the “I WAS” or the “I WILL BE” in a way that disconnects from your present. In Christ, the eternal Logos, all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden, and they are available to us now . He is the ultimate reality, and the merciful, moment-by-moment walk with Him is the life in sync with that reality .
So, my brother, my sister, in Soweto, in Sea Point, in the crowded taxi or the quiet study, hear this: Be fully present and powerful in today. The strength you have for this difficult conversation, this pile of marking, this search for a job, this act of forgiving a wound—it is real, and it is enough. Do not be paralysed by the ten-step plan you cannot see. Take the second step. The power for your next step is, and will always be, found in your current one. Trust the Process. For the Process is a Person, and He is enough for today.
https://podcasts.apple.com/za/podcast/the-power-in-your-present-step/id1506692775?i=1000738465514
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