The Architect and the Echo: How Our Words Forge the Future of a Nation
From my home here in Akasia, on the northern edges of Pretoria, I watch the sun set over our complex country. The air is thick with the scent of hope and hesitation. We are a nation under construction, perpetually pouring the concrete of our collective future. Yet, I have come to believe with every fibre of my being that the most powerful tools on this building site are not held in the hands of politicians or economists. They are carried between our teeth and shaped by our tongues. Solomon, the wisest king, unveiled this cosmic principle millennia ago: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21). This is not poetic sentiment; it is spiritual physics, a divine law as real as gravity, and right now, South Africa is a case study in its terrifying and glorious application.
Let me tell you a story. Just last week, I sat in a cramped community hall in Soshanguve. The air was heavy with the frustration of relentless power cuts—what we have tragically normalised as “loadshedding.” A man stood, his voice trembling not with fear, but with a weary conviction. “They have forgotten us,” he declared. “This government, this world… we are echoes in an empty canyon.” His words, “They have forgotten us,” fell like a shroud over the room. I saw shoulders slump; I saw a collective sigh resign itself to a predestined despair. That phrase was not a description; it was a decree. It was laying bricks for a future of isolation.
But then, a grandmother from Temba rose. She spoke of the new reforms slowly energising our grid, of the exit from the international “grey list” that promises to starve the cancers of corruption and money laundering. Her voice, cracked with age but firm with faith, declared, “We are not forgotten. God is doing a new thing, even when our eyes are slow to see it. We are builders, not beggars.” The room did not magically brighten, but the spiritual atmosphere shifted. One tongue had spoken death to hope; another spoke life to possibility. Both were architects.
This is the daily warfare on our streets and in our WhatsApp groups. We are, each of us, perpetually drafting blueprints for our personal lives and our national destiny with our words. We are either aligning with the voice of the Creator, who spoke light into chaos, or we are echoing the accuser, who speaks only condemnation and defeat.
The Anatomy of a World-Making Word
To understand this power, we must define our terms with philosophical precision. What is this “power” in the tongue? It is the God-given, human faculty to actualise spiritual reality into the material realm. God created the cosmos ex nihilo (out of nothing) by His Word: “Let there be.” We, made in His image, create ex materia (out of the circumstances) by our words. Our speech is a creative act. It is also a prophetic act—not in the sense of foretelling the future, but of forth-telling a framework through which the future is perceived and thus engaged.
The argument can be formulated thus:
· Major Premise: Human beings are created in the imago Dei (the image of God), the supreme Speaker and Creator.
· Minor Premise: A core attribute of God’s nature is creative, world-framing speech (Genesis 1, John 1:1).
· Conclusion: Therefore, humanity possesses a derivative, but potent, capacity for creative, world-framing speech. Our words are not merely descriptive; they are formative.
A common objection arises immediately: “This is simplistic positive confession! Shall I just speak a Lamborghini into my garage? Shall we chant ‘growth’ and solve our 31.9% unemployment?” This cynical reduction fails because it misunderstands the mechanism. The tongue’s power is not magic; it is agriculture. You do not shout at a field and harvest a meal. You speak a word of faith—“This soil will bear fruit”—and that word directs your actions: you till, you plant, you water, you weed. Your word shapes your practice. Conversely, the word “This land is cursed” leads to abandonment and decay. Both words, over time, manifest in tangible reality.
Look at our national discourse. What have we been planting?
· We speak of “the triple threat of poverty, crime, and corruption” until it becomes a self-fulfilling trinity of despair.
· We deploy xenophobic rhetoric that scapegoats the foreigner for our woes, and we reap the horrifying fruit of violence and displacement.
· We lament gender-based violence with shocking statistics—a femicide rate five times the global average—yet how often do our casual conversations, our tsabalas and boardrooms, still echo with words that diminish the imago Dei in women? The tongue that jokes about degradation is kin to the hand that commits it.
This is the Prophetic Confrontation we must sound: We have used our God-like creative power to collaborate in building a Babel of brokenness. We have spoken death over our land and called it “being realistic.”
The South African Synecdoche: From Pit Latrines to Galactic Fine-Tuning
But God is merciful. He has embedded in His creation a constant call back to life-giving speech. Consider two powerful images from our context.
First, the haunting, shameful reality of pit latrines in our schools. As of 2024, 1,770 schools still use them; 287 rely on them solely. Earlier this year, a three-year-old boy in the Eastern Cape drowned in one. This is not just a infrastructure failure; it is a profound metaphor for a word problem. What word does a pit latrine speak to a child? It whispers: You are not worth safety. Your dignity is an afterthought. Your future is confined to excrement and darkness. That is a word of death. The eradication of these structures is not merely a political task; it is a theological imperative—a violent rebuttal, with bricks and plumbing, of the lie of worthlessness. It is speaking life through concrete action.
Now, pivot from the pit to the cosmos. Modern science, far from banishing God, has become an unexpected pulpit. The discovery of the Cosmic Habitable Zone and the infinite fine-tuning of universal constants shouts a singular, magnificent Word. As South African scientist Professor Frederik van Niekerk and global thinkers like Stephen Meyer argue, the universe is not a random accident but a masterpiece of specified complexity. The odds of life-permitting conditions arising by chance are so astronomically infinitesimal, they point unerringly to a transcendent Mind, a cosmic Logos. This is what philosopher Antony Flew, the world’s most famous atheist, finally conceded: the evidence compels a Designer.
What is the universe declaring? The same thing the Psalmist said: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1). Every star, every finely-tuned physical law, is a syllable in a ceaseless sermon of intentional, life-oriented design. While some tongues on earth speak chaos, the cosmos itself speaks a majestic, ordered, life-giving Word.
Here lies the great fork in the road for the South African soul, and indeed for every human heart. Will we echo the death-speech of a broken world, or will we align our tongues with the life-speech of the Creator? Will we narrate our lives from the pit latrine, or from the galactic habitable zone?
The Word Made Flesh: Our Unanswerable Answer
This brings us to the supreme convergence, the axis upon which all theology and all hope turns. The Bible tells us this cosmic Logos, this foundational, creative, life-giving Word, did not remain distant. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). His name is Jesus Christ.
In Jesus, we see the perfect manifestation of the power of the tongue. He spoke to storms: “Peace, be still!” and they obeyed. He spoke to the dead: “Lazarus, come forth!” and life returned. He spoke to the broken: “Your sins are forgiven,” and guilt fled. But His most powerful speech was not in a sermon; it was on a cross. As the Roman nails performed their brutal, terminal surgery, Jesus spoke: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). In that moment, the Architect of the Universe used the power of His tongue not to decree vengeance, but to speak a pardon so profound it shattered the very power of death. His resurrection three days later was the ultimate “Amen!” to that word of life.
This is our model and our power source. We are called to speak not from our wounding, but from His healing. Not from our lack, but from His provision. Not from our fear of the “other,” but from His love that reconciles all in Himself.
So, my fellow South African, fellow image-bearer, the challenge is clear:
1. Audit Your Architecture: For one week, listen to your own speech. Are your words about your family, your job, your future, your leaders building a house of hope or a prison of despair? Are you prophesying life or rehearsing death?
2. Rebuild with a New Tongue: Begin to intentionally align your speech with God’s character and promises. This is not denial. It is saying to the mountain of load-shedding, “You shall be moved,” while also supporting the reforms and private investments bringing new energy to our grid. It is speaking dignity over our women while holding our justice system accountable. It is declaring “South Africa has a future of purpose” while actively paying your taxes, mentoring a youth, and rejecting corruption.
3. Anchor in The Word: Immerse yourself in the ultimate life-giving speech—the Scriptures. Let God’s Word recalibrate your own.
From the council chambers of the Government of National Unity to the spaza shops of Alexandra, we are in a battle of narratives. The good news—the gospel—is that in Jesus Christ, the victory is already secured. The resurrection is God’s final, unanswerable word on every form of death, from pit latrines to purposelessness.
Therefore, let us rise. Let the builders pick up their tools. Let us leave the echoing canyon of complaint and take our place on the construction site of destiny. Speak life to your child. Speak integrity to your colleague. Speak hope over your community. Speak blessing over this beautiful, fractured land.
For death and life are in the power of the tongue. And we, by the Spirit of the Living God, choose to speak life.
https://podcasts.apple.com/za/podcast/the-harvest-of-words/id1506692775?i=1000742746515
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