This morning I woke a little later than usual after enjoying another evening of FIFA World Cup football. Like many South Africans, I had stayed up captivated by the beauty of nations gathering together in peaceful competition. For a few precious hours, football reminded us that people from every language, tribe and nation can meet on the same field, compete with passion, and still shake hands at the final whistle.
As I switched on the radio, the very first comment I heard immediately captured my attention.
"Today is a tender moment in South Africa."
Those words stayed with me for the rest of the day.
Indeed, our country has experienced many tender moments.
Sharpeville in 1960.
Soweto and Langa in 1976.
Boipatong in 1992.
The assassination of Chris Hani in 1993.
Shell House in 1994 as our nation stood on the brink of democracy.
The Bophuthatswana insurrection.
The Shobashobane massacre.
Marikana in 2012.
The July 2021 riots and looting.
There are many more, both well documented and quietly forgotten, moments when South Africa reached a crossroads and needed wisdom more than anger, courage more than fear, and healing more than revenge.
Today felt like another such moment.
Throughout the day we watched deeply disturbing images.
Frightened children.
Pregnant women.
The elderly.
Families carrying whatever possessions they could salvage.
People uncertain where they would sleep tonight.
At the very same time we listened to ordinary South Africans explaining their own pain.
Communities overwhelmed by unemployment.
Young people who cannot find work.
Hospitals and clinics already stretched beyond capacity.
Schools under pressure.
Crime that has left many living in fear.
And the growing frustration surrounding undocumented immigration.
These concerns are real.
So too is the suffering of vulnerable people.
As I listened to every viewpoint, I realised something.
The Acts4Transformation framework is not called to become another political commentator.
Others are better equipped to analyse politics, economics and immigration policy.
Our calling is different.
Our question is different.
What does Christ require of His Church at moments like this?
Moses: The Undocumented Foreigner
Long before modern passports, visas and immigration departments, Scripture tells the story of another child whose life was threatened by government policy.
Moses was born at a time when Pharaoh ordered every Hebrew baby boy to be killed.
His parents hid him.
By God's providence he was drawn from the waters of the Nile and raised in Pharaoh's palace.
Years later, after killing an Egyptian, Moses fled.
He became a fugitive.
A foreigner.
A man living in another country.
For forty years he quietly tended sheep in Midian.
Few would have imagined that this displaced man would one day stand before a burning bush.
There God declared:
"I have indeed seen the misery of my people... So now, go. I am sending you."
(Exodus 3:7–10)
The fugitive became the deliverer.
The foreigner became the lawgiver.
The displaced man became the shepherd of a nation.
God saw something in him long before anyone else did.
Jesus: The Undocumented Foreigner
Centuries later history repeated itself.
Another ruler.
Another decree.
Another attempt to destroy God's purposes.
Joseph was warned in a dream.
He took Mary and the infant Jesus and fled...
...to Egypt.
The Son of God began His earthly life as a refugee.
The One who would later say,
"I was a stranger and you invited me in."
(Matthew 25:35)
had Himself once depended upon another nation for safety.
Little did the world know that approximately thirty years later this same child would climb another hill.
Not Mount Sinai.
Mount Calvary.
There He would usher in not another law...
...but grace.
As Paul reminds us,
"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus."
(Romans 3:23–24)
Moses ushered in the era of the Law.
Jesus ushered in the era of Grace.
When Fear Leads
As I reflected on today's events, I found myself returning to Robin Meyers' excellent book, The Underground Church.
One thought especially stayed with me.
The Church is called to become the Beloved Community.
Not a community built on fear.
Not a community built on suspicion.
Not a community where everyone looks after only themselves.
But a community where the vulnerable are noticed.
Where strangers are treated with dignity.
Where love is stronger than fear.
One sentence pierced my heart:
"The heart of the Gospel is: Fear not."
Fear is powerful.
Fear makes neighbours suspicious.
Fear makes communities angry.
Fear makes politicians louder.
Fear can even make churches silent.
Yet Scripture reminds us:
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."
(2 Timothy 1:7)
Justice and Compassion Must Walk Together
Listening carefully throughout the day, I realised something else.
Many South Africans are not speaking from hatred.
They are speaking from hurt.
From unemployment.
From poverty.
From fear for their children's future.
Those concerns deserve to be heard.
Likewise, frightened families fleeing violence deserve to be seen.
Justice matters.
Government has responsibilities.
Borders matter.
Laws matter.
Order matters.
Yet Scripture reminds us that while governments administer justice, God's people are called to demonstrate mercy.
The Lord commanded Israel:
"The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt."
(Leviticus 19:34)
Justice without compassion becomes cruelty.
Compassion without justice becomes chaos.
Followers of Christ are called to walk the more difficult road where truth and grace meet.
The Church at the Crossroads
Perhaps the greatest question facing South Africa today is not what government should do.
Perhaps it is what the Church should become.
Acts chapter 4 never describes a perfect government.
It describes a transformed people.
"All the believers were one in heart and mind... There were no needy persons among them."
(Acts 4:32–35)
For months now, through these reflections, we have explored what that might look like today.
A Barnabas Fund.
Community Kitchens.
Businesses sharing with struggling employees.
Neighbours helping neighbours.
Young entrepreneurs being encouraged instead of abandoned.
Communities where the elderly are remembered.
Children laugh safely in playgrounds.
And those with plenty discover the joy of sharing.
Perhaps Acts4Transformation is not another programme.
Perhaps it is simply the Church remembering who she really is.
Robin Meyers warns that empty sermons eventually produce empty pews.
Perhaps Acts reminds us that lived sermons produce transformed communities.
The Best Lack All Conviction...
When I was sixteen years old at Haythorne High School, one poem left an unforgettable impression on my young mind.
W. B. Yeats wrote:
"The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."
Those haunting words echoed in my heart throughout today.
This evening another analyst remarked,
"Whatever happened today will shape the direction in which our country now goes."
Perhaps he is right.
History often turns on tender moments.
But history also teaches us that God often uses tender moments to awaken His people.
Not to panic.
Not to hate.
Not to retreat into political camps.
But to become the Church once again.
To believe.
To pray.
To love.
To share.
That has always been the vision of Acts4Transformation.
Not because it is easy.
But because it is Christ's way.
May South Africa choose wisely.
May her leaders govern justly.
May her citizens act compassionately.
And above all...
May the Church arise.
For perhaps this tender moment is not only shaping the future of our nation.
Perhaps it is revealing the future of the Church.
May the haunting words of Yeats never become South Africa's story.
Instead, may the words of Acts become ours once again:
"There were no needy persons among them."
(Acts 4:34)
Timothy Hugo Canham
Methodist Exhorter
Founder: Acts4Transformation (A4T)
Believe. Pray. Love. Share.