The Rudder of Your Response

The Rudder of Your Response

By Harold Mawela

A Memorable Morning on the R21

I recall a bitter morning in May 2023. I was driving along the R21 from Pretoria toward the OR Tambo Airport, the dawn still fighting its way through the smog of industrial Ekurhuleni. My car—a second-hand 2016 Toyota Corolla I had named "Grace"—began to stutter and choke. The service engine light flashed like an accusation. There I was, stranded on the shoulder between the Boschkop and R25 off-ramps, watching taxis laden with commuters honk past without mercy. My smartphone battery was at 7 percent. My meeting with a publisher in Sandton was slipping away.

I sat there feeling the full weight of South African frustration: the Eskom load-shedding hanging over my head like a sword, the fuel price at R25 per litre making a tow truck feel like a luxury cruise, the crime statistics that made me glance nervously into my rearview mirror. "God," I muttered, "why do You allow these inconveniences to ambush me?"

But then, as the sun broke through the morning haze over the Bronberg mountains, I felt the Spirit convict me. I had been begging the waves for mercy, commanding the wind to change. But the Creator had given me a rudder all along. I grabbed an old notebook from my glove compartment, got out of the car, and began walking to the nearest petrol station two kilometers away. It was a long, sweaty walk, but I arrived at last. I called my publisher, explained the situation with uncomfortable honesty, and he postponed the meeting without a penalty. "Brother, your integrity is why I do business with you," he said. That day I learned a truth I will carry to my grave: You cannot command the wind, but you can certainly correct the course. Stop begging the waves for mercy and start steering the rudder.

The Rudder Principle

The Apostle Paul declares unequivocally: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). Let us define our terms clearly. "All things" means all things the broken-down Corolla, the rejected visa application, the retrenchment letter, the betrayed trust. But the master key, the one word that unlocks the entire promise, is the verb "works." The Greek word synergei speaks of a cooperative effort. God does not work instead of you; He works in and through your choices. Your will is the rudder. God is the wind. The wind is generous and constant, but the rudder determines the destination.

The argument can be formulated thus:

· Premise 1: God is sovereign and works all things according to His purpose (Ephesians 1:11).

· Premise 2: God has endowed humanity with free will, making us morally responsible agents (Deuteronomy 30:19).

· Premise 3: God's sovereignty does not eliminate human responsibility but rather works through our choices to accomplish His perfect will (Philippians 2:12–13).

· Conclusion: Therefore, every problem you face is a silent professor, and every delay is a divine appointment to exercise your God-given rudder.

A common objection is this: "If God is truly sovereign, then my choices are an illusion. Why should I bother praying, working, or struggling if it is all predetermined?" This objection fails because it confuses God's knowledge with God's causation. God knows which way you will steer the rudder, but He does not force your hand on the wheel. The Scripture declares unequivocally: "Choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve" (Joshua 24:15). Reason itself, illuminated by Scripture, compels us to acknowledge that a God who can predict your choice without causing it is a God who respects your freedom while using even your mistakes to weave a tapestry of redemption. That is the genius of Romans 8:28 it does not say that all things are pleasant, but that all things are useful.

The Shape of the Storm

This week, as I look out from my study window in Akasia, I read the headlines with a heavy heart. Not far from here, in the streets of Johannesburg, thousands of our countrymen marched with sticks in their hands, chanting demands for foreigners to leave. Two Nigerian brothers Amaramiro Emmanuel and Ekpenyong Andrew lost their lives in senseless attacks. Meanwhile, our economy staggers like a wounded beast, with fuel prices rising by more than R7 per liter and the IMF slashing our growth forecast to a measly one percent. In Mohlakeng, residents block roads with burning tyres, demanding that SAPS simply do their duty. And in the nearby suburb of Sedibeng, council governance has collapsed so completely that refuse has gone uncollected for months.

We are living in the valley of the shadow, Mzansi. The storm is real. But here is the question that divides the faithful from the faithless: Will you continue to waste worship on what you cannot change?

You cannot change the Middle East conflict that drives up our fuel prices. You cannot single-handedly reform a collapsing municipality. You cannot freeze the rising cost of a loaf of bread. But you can adjust your budget. You can start a community savings scheme. You can preach love to your neighbor instead of xenophobia. You can vote with wisdom. You can hold your leaders accountable without burning down a library. The wise believer refuses to demand fairness from a fallen world; instead, he demands discipline from a redeemed soul.

The Apologetic of Effort

Let me expose a dangerous doctrine that has paralyzed the South African church. It is the doctrine of Passive Providence the silent assumption that because God's will is perfect, my effort is optional. I have heard believers say, "If God wants me to have a job, He will provide one without my resumé." I have heard others say, "I am praying for the looting to stop, but I refuse to join the neighborhood watch because I trust in the Lord." This is not faith. This is foolishness. And it is a betrayal of the same Christ who sweated blood in Gethsemane and hammered nails in a carpenter's workshop.

Picture a world where a man stands on the shore, praying for the waves to part like the Red Sea, while the boat sits idly behind him with a perfectly functional rudder. Does God honor that prayer? Does He send an angel to part the sea on dry land while the man's vessel rots in the yard? The Scripture declares unequivocally: "Faith without works is dead" (James 2:26). God calls you to pick up the rudder. He calls you to row toward the break. He calls you to obey, build, and steer.

Jesus Christ did not calm every storm for the disciples. You recall the moment in Mark 4 when the furious squall descended on the Sea of Galilee. The disciples screamed, "Teacher, don't you care if we drown?" But Jesus did not immediately silence the wind. First, He let them get into the boat. First, He let them feel the spray and taste the salt. And only then did He rebuke the storm. But notice: He did not rebuke the storm until after they had engaged the rudder. Their action—their frantic rowing—did not save them, but it activated their faith. The same is true for you. Your effort is not the source of your salvation; it is the rudder that aligns you with the divine current.

The Word, the Wind, and the Warrior's Way

I have learned, through the bitter schooling of life, that God loves you because of who you are—His child, made in His image, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb. But He blesses you because of what you do. The universe owes you nothing. You are not entitled to a safe neighborhood, a steady paycheck, or a healthy body. But the Creator has given you everything: a mind to think, a will to choose, a mouth to speak, and hands to labor. He has given you a Reason to rejoice, a Rudder to redirect, and a Resurrected Redeemer who Rules from the Right hand of Royalty. That alliteration is not a cheap rhetorical trick; it is a weapon in the arsenal of your memory. Arm yourself with it.

Make no mistake: the road ahead is not a rose garden. The IMF warns of more pain. The protesters are not retreating. The crime statistics are not improving. But you, child of God, are not a victim of your circumstances. You are a sailor, not a shipwreck. You are a warrior, not a wailing wall. You are a steward of a sacred rudder called free will.

A Call to Rise

So I call upon you today whether you are sitting in a shack in Diepsloot or a flat in Sunnyside or a house in Soshanguve to Rise. Steer. Obey. Build. Do not curse the valley. Do not beg the waves. Your power is not in what happens to you but in how you respond through Him who strengthens you. Let your prayer not be, "Lord, move the mountain," but rather, "Lord, give me the legs to climb."

Prayer

Lord Jesus Christ, tame my complaining tongue. Anchor my choices in Your will. Make me a sailor, not a shipwreck. For the storms of my beloved South Africa the xenophobia, the poverty, the failing pipes and broken promises give me a steady hand on the rudder of my response. Let me not demand fairness from a fallen world, but discipline from a redeemed soul. And when I finally reach the shore, let me look back at the wake I have left—not with pride in my rowing, but with thanksgiving for the wind that never failed. Amen.

*"Attack is the proof that your enemy anticipates your success. Put your hand on the rudder." — Harold Mawela, Akasia, 30 April 2026. *