The Counsel of the Dry Riverbed: Why the Lion of Judah Hunts Alone Bulls
A Devotional from the Heart of Pretoria
From my home here in Akasia, Pretoria, where the Highveld sky stretches wide and the Jacaranda roots run deep, I want to speak to you about a profound and perilous modern myth. It is the cult of the soloist, the worship of the self-made, go-it-alone individual. In our streets pulsing with the fusion of Amapiano and Afrobeats, in our boardrooms buzzing with digital ambition, and even in our churches sometimes whispering with quiet compromise, a dangerous idea has taken root: that seeking counsel is a sign of weakness, and that true strength is a lonely, prideful summit.
My friend, this is not wisdom. This is the setup for a fall. The lion does not consult the wind because he is weak; he does it because he is wise. The lone bull, separated from the thundering herd, is not a symbol of power but a target. His solitary silhouette against the savannah is an invitation. In the same way, a believer who isolates themselves from godly, seasoned counsel is not walking in spiritual strength; they are marching, unawares, into a spiritual ambush.
Let me tell you a story. Just the other week, I found myself standing at the banks of the Apies River that winds through our city. In the height of summer, it was little more than a dusty, cracked trench—a dry riverbed. It looked solid, predictable. A man could confidently build his house right on its parched surface, convinced of his own assessment. But I, and any Pretorian who has lived through our thunderous summer storms, know the truth. That dry bed is a deception. It is not a foundation; it is a pathway for a coming deluge. When the heavens open over the Magaliesberg, that silent trench becomes in minutes a roaring, brown torrent that will sweep away anything foolish enough to be resting on its false stability.
This, I realized with a jolt, is the perfect picture of the prideful heart that rejects counsel. We look at the dry riverbed of our own understanding, our own plans, our own feelings, and we declare it solid ground. We build our decisions, our ministries, our very lives upon it. We say, “I see no danger here. I need no second opinion.” But we have forgotten the nature of the coming storms—the cultural shifts, the spiritual attacks, the personal trials that God in His sovereignty allows. And when those rains fall, the house built on the dry riverbed of self-sufficiency collapses with a great crash.
The Apostolic Blueprint: Paul in the Arena of Ideas
So how do we move from the peril of the dry riverbed to the safety of the rock? We must look to the Master Builder and His apostles. The Bible does not give us a model of a Lone Ranger apostle. It gives us Paul in Athens, engaging not from a place of isolated dogmatism, but from a posture of brilliant, contextual, and counsel-shaped apologetics.
When Paul stood on the Areopagus, surrounded by the intellectual giants of his age—the Epicureans who said pleasure is ultimate, the Stoics who preached detached self-sufficiency—he did not simply shout Scripture at them. He had listened. He had walked their streets, studied their altars, and understood their questions. His famous speech, beginning with “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious,” is a masterpiece of godly counsel in action. He used their poets, their philosophy, as a bridge to the Truth. This was not compromise; it was strategic, compassionate intelligence. He was doing what apologists call “positive deconstruction”— respectfully dismantling faulty worldviews by appealing to reason, evidence, and their own deepest longings.
His method provides our model:
1. He Started with Connection, Not Confrontation: He found a point of contact (“an altar TO THE UNKNOWN GOD”).
2. He Built a Logical Bridge: He moved from God as Creator, to Lord, to Judge.
3. He Presented the Non-Negotiable Core: He culminated with the historical, evidence-based proclamation of the resurrection of Jesus Chris
This is the opposite of a prideful gamble. This is the disciplined, counsel-shaped work of a spiritual warrior who knows the battlefield. He understood that to win a war for minds, you must first understand the terrain.
Confronting the Modern Goliaths: Why We Need the Shield
Now, what are the dry riverbeds and roaring lions in our South African context today? What are the Goliaths that taunt the armies of the living God, daring us to come out and fight in our own strength?
· The Goliath of Digital Deception: Our social media feeds, those algorithmic curators of reality, tell us that truth is personal, identity is self-created, and the loudest, angriest voice wins. It’s a philosophy that says, “Your personal truth is your only counsel.” This is the ancient serpent’s lie in 4G: “You will be like God, knowing good and evil for yourself, on your own terms.”
· The Goliath of National Crisis: As I write this, our nation has just stood in the UN Security Council to defend the principle that “might does not make right,” condemning the violation of a nation’s sovereignty. Yet at home, we often feel paralyzed by load-shedding, corruption, and violence. The temptation is to retreat into a private, isolated faith—to build a small spiritual hut on our own little dry riverbed and hope the national flood doesn’t reach us.
· The Goliath of Celebrity Spirituality: We are a nation of vibrant gatherings. From the Ofie Ne Fie festival celebrating Ghanaian heritage in our very own Fountains Valley, to the massive Curated by Culture concert with Asake in Johannesburg. We love a collective experience. Yet, the danger is to substitute the warm, fuzzy feeling of a crowd for the hard, clarifying work of true, intimate counsel. It is possible to be in a herd and still be a lone bull in your heart.
These giants shout the same taunt: “You are alone. Your God is irrelevant. Trust only in your own gut.” And like Saul’s army, we often just tolerate the noise, day after day.
The Unbreakable Logic of the Shield
Let’s get logical for a moment. A core principle of reason is that a limited perspective cannot comprehend the whole. My two eyes, from my single height, in my one location, cannot see around corners or over mountains. To claim my unaided view is complete is not confidence; it is a logical fallacy.
Now, apply this to the spirit. My one heart, shaped by my unique wounds, biases, and blind spots, cannot perfectly discern the will of God in a complex world. This isn’t a put-down; it’s simple geometry. Therefore, the rational, logical step for anyone who truly desires truth is to actively seek the perspectives of other godly, seasoned hearts—those who stand in different places, who have weathered different storms, who can see the angles I miss.
The argument is simple:
1. Premise 1: All human perspective is finite and prone to blind spots.
2. Premise 2: God’s wisdom is infinite and often revealed through the collective counsel of His body (the Church).
3. Conclusion: Therefore, the rational seeker of God’s will must intentionally and humbly seek out the counsel of mature believers.
To reject this is not to be strong; it is to be irrational. It is to insist that your dry riverbed is the only piece of ground that exists.
Forging Your Shield: A Prophetic Call for 2026
So, how do we put down the fool’s gold of self-reliance and pick up the forged steel of godly counsel? As we stand at the dawn of this new year, the Spirit is not calling us to a softer faith, but a sharper, more connected one. This is the year to move from being an audience in the throne room to becoming an army on the battlefield.
First, Identify Your Counsel. These are not just friends who agree with you. Find your “Nathan” who will look you in the eye and say, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7). Find your “Barnabas”—the son of encouragement. Find your “Paul”—the theological rigorous teacher. Your counsel should be seasoned, biblically rooted, and courageous enough to wound you faithfully (Proverbs 27:6).
Second, Practice “Agora” Engagement. Like Paul in the Athenian marketplace (the agora), step into the spaces where ideas clash. Listen first. Understand the questions behind the questions. Don’t just prepare your answers; prepare your heart to connect. Your goal is not to win an argument but to earn a hearing for the Gospel.
Third, Embrace the Divine Name in Covenant. The prophetic weight for 2026 is tied to the number 26, which in Hebrew gematria is the number for the sacred name of God, YHWH. This is profound. It means this year’s call to community and counsel is not a mere strategy; it is a covenant issue. You step onto the battlefield not with your own name, but carrying the Divine Name. You cannot bear that weight alone. You need the shield-bearers beside you, the watchmen on the wall behind you, the intercessors covering you.
Finally, Do What You Can With What You Have. The beautiful, freeing lesson from the woman who anointed Jesus is this: “She has done what she could.” You are not called to single-handedly slay every Goliath. You are called to be a faithful part of the army. Bring your five smooth stones. Offer your flask of oil. Use your specific voice. But do it from within the ranks, not as a rogue operative.
The wind is shifting over the savannah. You can feel it. The taunting voices are growing louder. This is not the hour for solitary, prideful gambles. It is the hour for the disciplined, counsel-shaped advance of the Kingdom.
Put down the myth of the lone bull. Pick up the shield of counsel. Find your place in the herd of the Lion of Judah. And together, let us advance into 2026 not as fragile individuals on dry riverbeds, but as an unbreakable phalanx on the Solid Rock, carrying the unassailable Name above all names into every arena He calls us to.
For in the multitude of counselors, there is not just safety. There is victory.
Amen.
https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/the-shield-of-counsel/id1506692775?i=1000744237366
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