Title: The Mirror of Your Mandate
Scripture: "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them." — Ephesians 2:10 (NKJV)
The Man in the Glass
I saw my face in the darkened screen of my laptop this morning. Load-shedding had stolen the light again—Stage 4, they called it, as if we are counting plagues now instead of power failures. The reflection stared back at me: a man in Akasia, surrounded by the familiar hum of neighbourhood generators, sitting in the half-darkness of a city that cannot keep its promises.
And in that dim reflection, the Holy Spirit asked me a question I could not escape: Who are you trying to impress?
Let us define our terms clearly, for confusion here is fatal. A mandate is not merely a job. It is not a job title, a salary bracket, or the size of your YouTube following. Your mandate is the specific assignment the living God downloaded into your spirit before the foundation of the world. The Scripture declares unequivocally that you are His poiema—His workmanship, His masterpiece, His poem written in flesh and bone—created for good works, not by good works.
But we have swapped the mirror for the window. We spend our lives looking at what everyone else is doing, counting the grapes in another man's vineyard, while our own vines wither for lack of attention.
The War of Reflections
I must confess something to you, my brother, my sister. Just last week, I found myself scrolling through the ministry pages of other pastors—pastors with larger venues, pastors with book deals I have not yet received, pastors whose podcasts reach continents I cannot name on a map. And there, in the quiet of my study, with the Pretoria sun warming the room, a serpent slithered into my spirit.
Why not you? it whispered. What does he have that you lack? Surely God could open those doors for you.
Comparison, beloved, is not a harmless glance. It is a knife in the heart of your calling. What you tolerate, you will never terminate. And I was tolerating the lie that my reflection should look like someone else's photograph.
Jesus Christ did not bleed and die to produce photocopies. He redeemed originals. The cross was not a copying machine; it was a delivery room. And you came forth from that travail as a singular, unrepeatable, eternal original.
The Scars That Speak
Here in South Africa, we understand scars. We are a nation carved by history—deep furrows of pain, injustice, and healing still in progress. I look at my own hands and see the small white line from a childhood accident in the township, running too fast, falling too hard. For years I hid it, embarrassed by the imperfection.
But recently, the Spirit reframed that scar. He said: That is not a flaw. That is forensic evidence of survival.
Your wounds are your weapons. What the enemy intended as a mark of shame, God converts into a badge of authority. The places where you have been broken are the very places where you will minister most powerfully. Do not despise your scars—they are your stars, shining in the darkness of a hurting world, guiding others toward the Healer.
Picture a world where every believer understood this. Imagine, if you will, the Church rising not in spite of its wounds, but through them. The man who lost his marriage but found Christ —his ministry to struggling husbands carries weight. The woman whose child wandered into the wilderness of addiction and returned—her intercession carries fire. The businessman who watched his company collapse and learned to trust Jehovah Jireh—his counsel carries substance.
The Politics of Purpose
We live in fascinating times. Just this week, I read the reports of violent incidents at schools in our province—Boksburg, Pretoria—students attacking students, the foundations of discipline crumbling like the walls of Jericho before a silent army . And I thought: This is what happens when a generation does not know its mandate.
Young people armed with rage because they have not been armed with purpose. They look in the mirror and see nothing worth protecting, so they destroy what they see in others. The enemy of your soul understands something you must grasp: An identity without a mandate is a weapon without a trigger.
The 2025 Integrated Resource Plan speaks of our national power crisis, of grids failing and infrastructure straining . But I tell you, the greater crisis is not in the cables—it is in the calling. We have a generation connected to every network except the network of heaven, scrolling past their purpose, liking posts about destiny while their own destiny lies unopened, unread, unfulfilled.
The Logic of the Mandate
Let us reason together, for our faith is not a leap in the dark but a walk in the light. The argument can be formulated thus:
Premise One: God, being eternal and omniscient, prepared good works before time began (Ephesians 2:10).
Premise Two: You were created in Christ Jesus for those specific works.
Premise Three: No two works are identical, for God is not the author of confusion but of infinite variety.
Conclusion: Therefore, to compare your works with another's is to question the wisdom of the Creator who designed both.
A common objection arises: "But surely we are to learn from others, to imitate their faith?" Indeed, the Scripture calls us to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises (Hebrews 6:12). But there is a world of difference between imitation of character and competition for calling.
I can learn from the prayer life of my pastor without envying his platform. I can celebrate the success of another ministry without resenting my own season of sowing. The mathematics of the Kingdom is not subtraction; it is multiplication. Your victory does not diminish my potential. Your breakthrough clears the atmosphere for my own.
The Generator and the River
The other evening, as load-shedding plunged Akasia into its scheduled darkness, I heard my neighbour's generator cough to life. A familiar sound, almost comforting now. And I thought: We have become experts at generating our own power.
We generate our own security through bank balances. We generate our own significance through social media likes. We generate our own identity through professional titles. And like a generator running on expensive fuel, we sputter and choke and eventually run dry.
But the Scripture speaks of a different source: "Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them" (John 7:38). Not a generator—a river. Not manufactured power—perpetual flow.
Your mandate is not something you generate; it is something you discover. It is the river already flowing beneath the dry ground of your daily existence. You do not create it; you uncover it. You do not earn it; you enter it. And once you find it, you will never need to copy another person's current.
The Assassination of Comparison
I must sound the alarm against the assassin in your pocket. Your phone, this device I am using to write these words, is a magnificent tool and a terrible master. It shows you the highlight reels of a thousand lives while hiding the struggle, the sacrifice, the silent tears behind every success.
You see the pastor preaching to thousands, but you do not see the prayers at 3 AM. You see the author with multiple titles, but you do not see the rejection letters. You see the entrepreneur scaling heights, but you do not see the near-bankruptcy, the sleepless nights, the temptation to quit.
Comparison is the thief of content and the killer of calling. It steals the contentment that is your birthright and murders the calling that is your assignment. You cannot conquer the giants of tomorrow while you are busy counting the grapes of another man's vineyard.
The Mirror of the Word
James the Just, that pillar of the early church, wrote of a man who looks in a mirror and immediately forgets what he looks like (James 1:23-24). Is this not our tragedy? We look into the perfect law of liberty—the Word of God—and we see ourselves as we truly are: created, called, commissioned. But the moment we turn away, we forget. We forget that we are kings and priests. We forget that we are more than conquerors. We forget that we are His workmanship.
The world hands you a mirror that reflects your failures. The Word hands you a mirror that reflects your future. Which mirror will you believe?
The Daily Decoding
Your destiny is decoded in your daily habits. What you repeat, you become. What you neglect, you forfeit.
If you neglect prayer, you forfeit power. If you neglect the Word, you forfeit wisdom. If you neglect your mandate, you forfeit your authority. The assignment is the authority. You do not receive authority for the assignment; you receive authority in the assignment. The moment you step into what God called you to do, the grace to do it meets you there.
I learned this lesson the hard way. There was a season when I chased opportunities that looked like blessings but were actually distractions. Doors opened, and I walked through them, only to find myself in rooms where my spirit could not breathe. Why? Because the door was not the door. The opportunity was not the mandate.
We must learn to distinguish between the open door and the right door. Satan can open doors. Circumstances can open doors. Your own ambition can kick down doors. But the door that matters is the one Jesus opens, and when He opens it, no man can shut it (Revelation 3:7).
The Politics of Presence
We are approaching election season in our beloved South Africa. The air thickens with promises, the posters bloom on every street corner like unnatural flowers. And I hear the whispers: Will this party deliver? Will that leader save us?
Let me say it plainly: No political party will fulfil your mandate. No president can give you your purpose. These things are good and necessary—we must vote, we must engage, we must seek the welfare of the city where God has placed us (Jeremiah 29:7). But the deepest needs of your soul will not be met by a manifesto. They will be met by the Man, Christ Jesus.
The Scripture declares unequivocally that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). While Eskom changes CEOs, while ministers shuffle portfolios, while policies come and go like the winter rains—He remains. And the mandate He gives is not subject to budget cuts or cabinet reshuffles.
The Scars of the Saviour
We speak of scars, and we must ultimately speak of His. I was walking through Pretoria CBD last week, past the vendors selling their wares, past the taxis hooting their impatience, past the hurried crowds chasing their daily bread. And I thought: The hands that made all these people were once pierced for these people.
By His wounds we are healed (1 Peter 2:24). Not by His words only, though His words are spirit and life. Not by His miracles only, though they declare His glory. But by His wounds. The scars of the Saviour are the source of our salvation.
And if He carries scars into eternity—for the risen Lamb stands as though slain (Revelation 5:6)—then why should we be ashamed of ours? Your scars are not mistakes; they are ministry. They are the evidence that you have been through something and come out with something.
The Race Before You
Therefore, having defined our terms, having dismantled the error of comparison, having grounded our identity in the workmanship of God, let us run with endurance the race set before us (Hebrews 12:1).
Not the race beside us. Not the race behind us. The race before us—the specific, custom-designed, glory-filled path that God prepared before the foundation of the world.
Your assignment is your authority. Run your race.
The man in the mirror is not your rival; he is your responsibility. The face you see in the darkened screen, in the quiet morning, in the honest moment of prayer—that face carries a mandate that no other face can fulfil.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, deliver me from the prison of comparison. Your blood purchased my freedom; I will not surrender it to the opinions of others. Help me to honour the unique grace You have placed upon my life. Give me eyes to see my mandate, courage to pursue it, and faithfulness to finish it. Amen.
Declaration:
I am His workmanship. I am not a copy; I am an original. My scars are my stars. My wounds are my weapons. What I pursue, I will possess. What I neglect, I will forfeit. Today, I run my race.
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-mirror-of-your-mandate/id1506692775?i=1000751144109
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