Skip to main content

The Fabric of Daily Justice


The Daily Weaving of Divine Justice: From Akasia’s Soil to a Kingdom’s Fabric

Let me tell you about the fence. Not the political kind, but the literal, wooden one in my backyard here in Akasia. Last year, I decided to build it myself. Each picket, I thought, was a small thing. A minor choice of alignment, a single nail driven in. Some days, tired from writing, I’d be tempted to rush—to let a post sit slightly crooked, to skip a nail. “Who will see it?” I’d whisper to myself. But I knew. Months later, the fence stood: a strong, straight line defining my home, weathering the Pretoria storms. It did not appear by grand declaration, but by the cumulative power of a hundred small, faithful choices.

So it is with justice. We often imagine it as a distant, majestic edifice—a constitutional court, a landmark ruling, a thundering prophet on a national stage. But Scripture reveals a profoundly personal truth: justice is first a fabric, woven daily on the loom of our mundane, consistent choices. It is the fair price in the spaza shop when no one audits the till. It is the honest word spoken to defend the colleague whispered about in the tea room. It is the choice to listen to the grieving widow on your street before posting another righteous opinion online. These are the threads. Without this daily, disciplined weaving, all our grand gestures and prophetic pronouncements are but tattered banners, flapping emptily in the wind. The mighty river of righteousness is fed by a thousand small, unseen streams of honest deeds.

I. Defining the Thread: What is Biblical Justice?

Before we can weave, we must know our material. We must define our terms with theological precision, for the world offers a thousand counterfeits.

Justice (mishpat and tsedaqah in Hebrew) is the active alignment of human relationships and systems with the holy, loving character of God. It is not a nebulous feeling of fairness. It is rooted in God’s own nature: "The Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and upright is he" (Deuteronomy 32:4). Therefore, His justice is inseparable from His love, His mercy, and His truth. It has two inseparable dimensions:

· Corrective Justice (Mishpat): This is "putting things right." It is the act of judging between right and wrong, defending the cause of the oppressed, and rectifying inequity. "Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute" (Psalm 82:3).

· Primary Justice (Tsedaqah): Often translated as "righteousness," this is "living in right relationship." It is the positive, proactive state of shalom—of peace, wholeness, and right-relatedness between people, and with God. It is the fabric of a community where needs are met, dignity is upheld, and integrity governs transactions.

This divine justice is not a sterile legal principle; it is the operating system of God’s Kingdom. And here is the revolutionary, personal claim: You and I are called to be weavers of this fabric, starting precisely where we stand.

II. The Context of Our Weaving: A Land in Need of Good Thread

Look at our beloved South Africa, our fraught and beautiful continent. As analysts warn, we face a "gathering storm" of polycrisis—entrenched conflicts, economic distress, and a fracturing global order that leaves the vulnerable exposed. We see it in our headlines: the scramble for resources, the heartbreaking flood disasters, the political tensions simmering in municipalities. The temptation is to see this vast, systemic brokenness and declare our small threads meaningless. "What can my honesty do against state capture? What can my kindness do for a continent in turmoil?"

This is the great deception! It is the logic of the evil one, who specializes in convincing the faithful that their sphere is too small to matter. It is the same voice that tells the farmer his single seed won’t end hunger, or the teacher her one student won’t change a generation. It is a lie that leads to paralysed cynicism or performative outrage devoid of daily integrity.

The biblical response is prophetic confrontation: Systemic injustice is merely the aggregate of millions of daily, personal injustices, consented to by silence or participation. Corruption is not an abstract monster; it is a million small choices to look the other way, to accept a bribe, to overbill a client, to vote for a patron rather than a principle. The "geography of polycrisis" begins in the geography of the human heart.

III. The Weaver’s Argument: A Logic of Faithful Action

Let us then construct a clear, logical framework for this daily justice, anticipating the core objection.

· Premise 1 (Theological): God is the source and standard of all justice (Deuteronomy 32:4).

· Premise 2 (Christological): Jesus Christ perfectly embodied and enacted God’s justice, revealing it as compassionate, truth-telling, self-sacrificial love aimed at restoration (Luke 4:18-19).

· Premise 3 (Ecclesiological): The Church, as the body of Christ, is the primary agent through which God’s justice is to be manifest on earth (Micah 6:8).

· Premise 4 (Anthropological): The Church is comprised of individual believers, each with a unique sphere of influence (home, marketplace, school, digital space).

Conclusion: Therefore, the manifestation of God’s justice on earth necessarily proceeds through the faithful, just actions of individual believers within their unique, daily spheres of influence.

The Anticipated Objection: "But my sphere is too small! My thread doesn’t matter against the world’s broken tapestry."

The Reasoned Response: This fails on three counts:

1. Mathematically: A tapestry is only the sum of its threads. No grand design exists apart from them.

2. Theologically: God’s economy values the small, the weak, and the faithful (Zechariah 4:10). He used a shepherd boy’s stones, a widow’s oil, and a child’s lunch. Your "small" sphere is your divinely appointed jurisdiction.

3. Mysteriously: The Spirit of God takes our faithful, small acts and weaves them into a cosmic narrative we cannot see (Romans 8:28). Your honest work today may inspire your child to be a reformer tomorrow. Your fair deal may sustain a family that raises a peacemaker.

IV. The African Weaving: Integrating Heart, Community, and Reason

Here in Akasia, where the jacarandas bloom and the braai smoke carries stories, we understand that life is integrated. The Western mind often separates faith from reason, the personal from the communal. But as African Christian spirituality reminds us, our faith is incarnational—it touches the soil, the community, the ancestors, the now.

Our proverbs teach us: "A single bracelet does not jingle." Your thread of justice must be woven into the community. It is in the stokvel run with integrity. It is in the school governing body meeting where you speak for the child with no advocate. It is in refusing to spread the juicy gossip that will destroy a neighbour’s name. This is prophetic participation, not from a distant platform, but in the mud and beauty of daily life.

And let us be unafraid of reason! The early Church Fathers saw Christian faith as the "true philosophy". They used the robust tools of logic and argument to defend the faith’s coherence. Is the doctrine of a Triune, loving God just? Does the incarnation of Christ dignify humanity? Absolutely! Philosophical theology helps us show that our faith is not a retreat from reason, but its fulfilment. Our call to justice is not a blind leap, but the most rational response to a world created by a just God and redeemed by a just Saviour.

V. The Call to the Loom: Your Sphere Awaits

So, fellow weaver, what is your sphere? It is the space where your authority and influence meet your responsibility.

· In the Marketplace: Will you be the one who pays a living wage, who invoices accurately, who refuses the corrupt "facilitation fee"? Your integrity sanctifies commerce.

· In the Home: Will you be the parent who models fairness between children, who resolves conflict with grace, who speaks of leaders with truth and prayerful respect? Your fairness builds a micro-kingdom.

· In the Digital Space: Will you be the voice that refuses inflammatory rhetoric, that verifies before sharing, that defends the maligned? Your keystrokes can be threads of peace.

· In the Nation: Will you be the citizen who votes conscientiously, who holds leaders accountable with a respectful, truthful tongue, who serves the needy in your path? This is costly discipleship.

Do not wait for a platform. Pick up the shuttle in your hand. Today. The thread might be:

· Listening to the security guard’s story.

· Returning the excess change.

· Documenting an expense truthfully.

· Speaking a kind word to the one everyone ignores.

This is how God’s kingdom comes. Not only in the dramatic coup d’état, but in the quiet, consistent coups de coeur—the overturnings of the heart, one faithful choice at a time. The river of righteousness rises from these springs.

A Final Promise for the Weaver: "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up" (Galatians 6:9). Your labour in the Lord—your daily, just choices—is never, ever in vain (1 Corinthians 15:58).

The fence in my yard stands. The fabric of His kingdom is being woven. Pick up your thread.

https://open.spotify.com/episode/146nbMYWuLr1XfkZDwrHKx?si=NPgFmWnxTP2cyCNnZ7V2xA&context=spotify%3Ashow%3A00aDj3KbY5k63c31qBSpGj


https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-fabric-of-daily-justice/id1506692775?i=1000745989926

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...

**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...

**Rejecting Shame Through Identity in Christ**

  I live in Akasia, Tshwane, where the jacarandas paint Pretoria’s streets with purple hope each spring. From my modest home, I watch the city hum—buses rattling down Paul Kruger Street, hawkers calling out at the Wonderpark Mall, and the chatter of students spilling from TUT’s gates. Life here is vibrant, yet beneath the surface, many of us carry an unseen weight: shame. It’s a thief that whispers lies about our worth, chaining us to past mistakes or societal labels. As a Christian writer, I’ve wrestled with this shadow myself, and I’ve learned that only one truth can break its grip—our identity in Christ. Let me take you on a journey through my own story, weaving it with the tapestry of South African life and the radiant promise of Scripture, to confront shame and embrace who we are in Him. ### A Personal Tale of Shame’s Grip A few years ago, I stood at a crossroads. I’d just lost a job I loved—a writing gig at a local magazine in Pretoria. The editor said my work was “too confro...