The Unpopular Truth: Why Righteousness Will Never Trend on Social Media
From my study window here in Akasia, I watch the world go by on Daan de Wet Nel Drive. I see the hurried commuters, the patrols of the Tshwane Metro Police, and sometimes, the haunting evidence of our brokenness—like the recent discovery of a life discarded in the bushes. This is my context: a nation in tension, where the glow of smartphones illuminates both our dreams and our despair. We scroll through curated perfection while local headlines scream of fraud, murder, and tragic accidents. We are a generation, especially our brilliant, travel-hungry Gen Z, endlessly seeking the next authentic experience, the next truth to follow. But I must tell you a foundational law, a principle as solid as the Pretoria granite beneath our feet:
Truth is not determined by consensus, and righteousness will never be voted into popularity.
You will never see a hashtag trend that says, “#DenyYourself.” No viral challenge will champion, “#TakeUpYourCross.” The algorithm is not programmed to promote “#TheLastShallBeFirst.” Why? Because the path of Christ runs directly opposite to the highway of this world. The Gospel is an eternal truth, but in a temporal world obsessed with likes, shares, and immediate gratification, it will always be counter-cultural. Its popularity is not measured in retweets, but in transformed lives; not in follower counts, but in the footprints of disciples walking a narrow road.
The Philosophical Foundation: When “Christian” Becomes Just Another Filter
Let us define our terms with the precision our topic demands. We speak of “truth.” In our digital babel, truth has become plastic—molded by influencers, shaped by algorithms, and filtered through our own desires. It is subjective, personal, and convenient. But Christian truth, revealed in Scripture and incarnate in Jesus Christ, is of a different order. It is objective, propositional, and authoritative. It does not ask for your opinion; it declares your reality.
Here is the logical formulation, clear and unassailable:
1. Major Premise: Divine truth, by its nature, is holy, perfect, and unchangeable (Malachi 3:6; Hebrews 13:8).
2. Minor Premise: Human nature, in its fallen state, is sinful, self-seeking, and hostile to God (Romans 8:7).
3. Conclusion: Therefore, the pure truth of God will inevitably create tension, resistance, and often, outright rejection by a world governed by sinful human nature.
A common objection arises: “But didn’t the crowds follow Jesus? Weren’t the masses amazed by his teaching?” Yes, until that teaching became costly. They followed for the bread, but fled from the Bread of Life when He spoke of eating His flesh and drinking His blood (John 6:66). Popularity built on miracles and free food is fickle. True allegiance is forged in the furnace of costly discipleship.
This is not a new struggle. The early Church Fathers, our theological ancestors, wrestled with this in the intellectual arena of their day. They did not see a sharp divide between “philosophy” and “theology”. For them, Christianity was the true philosophy—the ultimate framework for understanding reality. They engaged the dominant thoughts of their age not to be popular, but to prove that Christ was the very Logos, the rational principle holding all things together. They understood that to win the soul, you must also engage the mind. Today, our “philosophy” is the digital narrative—the belief that visibility equals value, that trending equals truth. Our apologetic task is to dismantle this with a logic rooted in eternity.
The South African Crucible: Where Cultural Trends and The Cross Collide
Now, bring this truth home. To our soil. To our unique, painful, beautiful South African context. We are a nation engaged in the vital, holy work of decolonization—of reclaiming our indigenous languages, our stories, our identities from the crushing weight of a colonial past. This is good and godly. Revelation 7:9 shows us a multicultural, multilingual heaven. God delights in diversity.
But here is the prophetic confrontation, the warning we must sound: We are in grave danger of swapping one form of cultural captivity for another. We seek to throw off the chains of Western hegemony, only to willingly shackle ourselves to the global altar of digital approval and postmodern subjectivity. We are rightly outraged by the historical oppression of isiZulu or Setswana, yet we silently submit to the new tyranny of TikTok trends and Instagram aesthetics that oppress the soul.
Look at our landscape. Our theology, once fiercely focused on the struggle against apartheid, now often seems adrift, searching for a new cause. Some have swapped the prophetic mantle for the therapist’s couch, turning the Gospel into a self-help tool for personal fulfillment—a spiritual accessory to the “experience-led lifestyles” our youth champion. We see pastors, not on their knees in prayer, but chasing the optics of success, their sermons designed to go viral rather than to convict of sin. We have forgotten that the most powerful, culture-shaping theology in our history—the Kairos Document—was born not from a desire to be relevant, but from a costly, biblical confrontation with evil.
The recent news from our own streets—the fraud, the violence, the profound brokenness—is not just a crime statistic. It is the logical fruit of a society untethered from transcendent truth. When you remove the compass of “Thus saith the Lord,” all directions seem equally valid, and the journey always ends in the ditch.
The Costly Path: Your Integrity is Your Only Lasting Influence
So, what is the application? What is the “practical law” for us who live at this intersection of faith and algorithm, of Akasia and the metaverse?
Your daily discipline in private determines your lasting impact in public.
You will never broadcast a courage you do not cultivate in secret. The character needed to stand alone against the digital mob is not forged in the moment of crisis. It is built in the quiet, unseen moments: in the predawn prayer when no one is watching; in the choice to forgive when you could fuel a feud; in the decision to speak honestly even when a lie would get more laughs; in the commitment to sexual purity in a culture that sells your body as a commodity.
Imagine, if you will, a young person in Soshanguve or Montana. They feel the pressure to conform—to the party scene, to the compromised relationship, to the cynical attitude toward authority. Their phone buzzes with a hundred voices telling them to fit in. But in their spirit, a still, small voice whispers, “Come out from among them and be separate” (2 Corinthians 6:17). That moment of decision—to obey the unpopular truth—is where destiny is decoded. That is the real “influencer” moment. That is the tweet that echoes in eternity.
Do not be deceived by the megachurch stages and the celebrity pastor packages. The real revival in Africa in 2026 will not be televised. It will not trend under a sponsored post. It will happen in the hearts of men and women who have fallen in love with a Jesus who is too glorious to reduce to a lifestyle brand. It will spread through the quiet integrity of the believer who returns the extra change, who works diligently for a boss they don’t like, who loves their spouse faithfully for decades, who speaks hope into the life of a struggling teenager.
This is our call. This is our cross. We are to be the unwavering, illogical, counter-cultural people of truth. We engage the culture—its arts, its politics, its debates—not to be liked by it, but to lovingly expose its lies and illuminate the path to Christ. We use our minds, rigorously and faithfully, to defend the hope within us. We root our identity not in the fleeting affirmations of the crowd, but in the eternal declaration of the Father: “You are my beloved child.”
The road is narrow. It is costly. It often feels lonely. You will be misunderstood, labeled intolerant, and passed over for promotions. But on this path, you walk with a clear conscience. You build a life that needs no defense. And you will find that the blessing of God is not a viral video, but a peaceful sleep. It is not a million followers, but a few trusted, deep relationships. It is not the applause of men, but the profound, sustaining favor of the One who said, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18).
Walk uprightly, my brother. Stand firm, my sister. The straight spear of integrity flies true. Let it fly.
Harold Mawela writes from Akasia, Pretoria, where he is learning to love the truth more than the trend.
https://podcasts.apple.com/gh/podcast/the-reward-of-the-straight-path/id1506692775?i=1000746296689
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