The Blood-Stained Miracle
My first trip to South Africa was not to Cape Town or Johannesburg but to Bloemfontein, a city near the border of Lesotho, where I had been visiting. Some in our group needed to make a visa run, and we also needed supplies unavailable in Lesotho. It was 2013, and what I encountered there shocked me.
Our van carried a mixed group: a few white American missionaries, a few black Sesotho people, and our fearless leader—an Afrikaner. He was the first Afrikaner I had ever met, and he left a strong impression. He is full of life and full of love for the Lord.
We stopped at a grocery store where everyone needed to use the restroom. The white staff escorted some of us to the “white” restrooms while the black Africans among us were told to use an outside shed marked for “black”. Horrified, our friends were stunned that such blatant racism still existed. In solidarity, we all chose not to give the store our business. I felt as if I had stepped into a time machine—back to the segregation days my grandparents spoke about but that I had never personally experienced.
This was decades after Nelson Mandela’s release from prison and the official end of apartheid. Yet segregation persisted. Our drive back to Lesotho sparked deep conversations. It was then I began to understand the beauty of what Mandela had accomplished—and the way South Africans were willing to openly wrestle with their racist past. One missionary in our group, who had lived in Rwanda, contrasted this with Rwanda’s tragedy. After the genocide, the government forbade acknowledgment of ethnicity—no one could publicly identify as Hutu or Tutsi—and dissent was closely monitored by government agents on every block. Post-genocide Rwanda, he explained, resembled North Korea more than a free nation. By contrast, South Africa, despite its many struggles, was at least attempting to deal with its past openly—a much healthier path, according to my Afrikaner friend.
This week, we read After Mandela and Anatomy of a Miracle. Both, written by foreign journalists, document the end of apartheid and the challenges South Africa has faced since. I have also read Nelson Mandela’s own account, Long Walk to Freedom. Each book brings a different focus, but together they reveal an important truth: reconciliation is not an event; it is a journey. It is messy, painful, and complicated. It requires bridge-builders. Mandela was one of those bridge-builders, alongside President de Klerk. Their shared commitment to reconciliation changed the course of history in South Africa.
One way Mandela built bridges was by deliberately crossing ethnic and cultural lines. As Waldmeir notes, “By volunteering to speak the language so detested by his followers, Mandela sent signals of good faith that did much to calm Afrikaner fear of cultural annihilation.”[1] Similarly, de Klerk released Mandela from prison, re-established the freedom of the ANC, and began dismantling apartheid. Waldmeir observes, “De Klerk had removed most of the props from apartheid’s house of cards, but it was still refusing to fall. Segregation persisted in health (where it was illegal), in schools (where it had not yet been abolished), and in libraries and swimming pools.”[2]
Waldmeir describes the end of apartheid as nothing short of miraculous. She asks:
So how is it that white South Africans—scarcely renowned for their good sense in the decades of apartheid—managed finally to accept the dictates of reason? How could black South Africans subdue hatred and reject revenge to defy the logic of a tortured past that might have doomed them to ceaseless conflict? Why did the Afrikaner hand over power? What was it that catapulted this dour, Calvinistic, Old Testament people so abruptly into the modern world?[3]
But this “miracle” was not clean. It was stained with blood, sweat, and tears. The journey since has been difficult. In her postscript, Waldmeir admits: “Since this book was written, South Africa’s euphoria has faded, leaving South Africans with a massive post-liberation hangover, and a painful case of depressed spirits.”[4] Russell, in Anatomy of a Miracle, emphasizes the internal battles within the ANC and the uneven commitment of its leaders to racial reconciliation. Yet, he holds hope that in time, “the poison of apartheid can be steadily diluted as the years pass and that, after a period of dutiful arm’s-length cooperation, future generations can somehow grow up free of the prejudices that have so long divided the country.”[5]
Meanwhile, my own nation feels torn apart. Just days ago, we lost Charlie Kirk, and now narratives and counter-narratives are flying. Our current leadership seems more interested in burning down bridges than building them. Reading about South Africa reminds me that while our situation is not the same, division is escalating at an alarming rate. Even so, these books give me hope. They remind me that even when things seem bleak, reconciliation is still possible.
Given more space, I would like to explore the kind of leader Mandela was and the leadership styles he embodied. As we venture to Cape Town next week, I will continue reflecting on the long walk out of racist ideologies—and what that means for us, in this specific time, in America as well.
I’ll leave you with Mandela’s words and a photo of Table Mountain in Cape Town which after climbing up the backside of it reminds me of Mandela’s statement :
I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret: after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended.[6]
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[1] Patti Waldmeir, Anatomy of a Miracle: The End of Apartheid and the Birth of the New South Africa (W. W. Norton, 1997), 16.
[2] Waldmeir, Anatomy of a Miracle, 196.
[3] Waldmeir, Anatomy of a Miracle, 2.
[4] Waldmeir, Anatomy of a Miracle, 287.
[5] Alec Russell, ed., After Mandela: The Battle for the Soul of South Africa (Windmill books, 2010), 51.
[6] Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom: Autobiography of Nelson Mandela, 1. ed (Little, Brown, 1994), 625.
About the Author
Adam Cheney
I grew up in California, spent five years living along the beautiful coast of Kenya and now find myself working with refugees in the snow crusted tundra of Minnesota. My wife and I have seven children, four of whom have been adopted. I spend my time drinking lots of coffee, working in my garden, and baking sourdough bread.13 responses to “The Blood-Stained Miracle”
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Thanks for the post mate. Looking forward to seeing you next week. From your experience in Africa, and South Africa, what do you think are the most essential qualities leaders need in order to sustain that journey over the long haul?”
Glyn
Yes, I can’t wait to connect in person.
One of the things that I think are necessary for leaders to endure the hard times is having the confidence that this is what they are supposed to be doing. I could not have sustained my time in Kenya if I had not seen God’s explicit work in getting us to Kenya and providing for us while we were there. I never had any doubt about my being there. Mandela seems to have also had the confidence that he was in the right place and the right time and he was the right person to step into it. Whether that was a calling by the Holy Spirit or not, I am not sure, but he had the confidence of a leader who was called into action.
Thanks Adam, for sharing your personal journey. I recognize the compassion you hold for Somalis and immigrants in general as being partially based on your firsthand experience in Africa and South Africa.
Change happens at the speed of relationships and trust, so how has your gift of proximity impacted your faith walk and relationships?
Jennifer, relationships and trust take time. Lots and lots of time. Especially for people living in a fear based culture. Our culture is not fear based and we generally are more trusting of people. Somalis do not really even trust their brother. There is a constant fear of other people that seems to be entrenched in Islam. So, it takes patience and the willingness to be in the struggle for a long time.
Hey Adam,
Fantastic post—thank you for sharing your experience. For many who have never traveled to or lived in Africa, it can be hard to grasp the continent’s complex history and the nuances that shape daily life—such as tribal tensions, systemic poverty, or deep-rooted injustice.
Pivoting from your reflections on South Africa, I’m curious about your time in Kenya. What kinds of divides did you encounter there that called for bridge-building? I’d love to hear how you navigated those challenges and the lessons you carried forward.
Elysse,
Certainly Kenya called for a lot of bridge-building. One incident in particular was when we started our backyard church. I adamantly wanted to develop the church in the local tribal language of Chidigo. The only problem was that nobody really knew how to read it. Even still, I learned to read it and I read Scripture in their language. There was a Christian from a majority tribe who owned a lot of the land around. He was the “boss man” and he did not read Chidigo but he could understand it enough. He desperately wanted us to do church in Kiswahili so that he could read it and lead it. I stood firm against it, knowing that there were local churches catering to his tribe already and there were NO churches that used Chidigo or catered to the Digo. But, I did work with him to learn to read the Chidigo and so I let him have the respect of leading the service and reading the passage but it was painfully slow and hard.
Hi Adam, I wish we had more “bridge-builders” like Mandela in the current American climate of division. What do you think are the qualities or practices from Mandela that are most needed in America?
Christy,
I fully agree. I do think that we will see some leaders step into a more bridge-building role out of pragmatic reasons and a desire to not go down with the sinking ship. For instance, I have been shocked by Marjorie Taylor Greene and her willingness to go against Trump and demand for the release of Epstein files. Do I think that she has suddenly changed her moral compass? No. But, I do think she is seeing a change that is coming and she is pragmatically trying to step off the sinking ship while she can. In doing this she is tacitly working with the Left and her actions came at quite a shock to me. I do think that we will likely see more and more of this as time marches on. Mandela did not do everything based on moral convictions but sometimes because it was the most pragmatic action to take.
Adam, Thank You for sharing your personal experience with segregation. I love how you brought out bridge-building. Mandela really used the concept of “Golden Bridges” (from Impossible Conversations) and allowed others to change their position and bring reconciliation. Forgiveness is an individual choice, but reconciliation must involve both parties. What leadership skills that Mandela used do you see as lacking in US leadership, inhibiting reconciliation?
Kari,
Simply stated- humility, honesty, integrity.
Thanks for this great description Adam. I appreciate your observation that “reconciliation is not an event; it is a journey.”
I was going to ask a question similar to Kari’s, 😉 so I’ll focus on something a little different.
As you look at the parallels between South Africa and the current US, if you were in an influential leadership role of some sort, how might you begin to engage in transformative reconciliation? (That adjective is key, I think.)
Debbie,
I probably would have found myself like Adam Kinzinger and out of a job. However, I would argue for a nuanced approach and one that we can find some middle ground with a common goal. What our nation needs now is a common goal. We have had one in the past, such as WW2 or 9/11 and I do not want a catastrophic event of such extremes but we as a nation need to find something that we can all agree on. I would say freedom of speech but that is increasingly becoming not possible either….
Hi Adam, your unique experience is helpful to hear. Thank you for sharing that. Building on the important qualities you mentioned of “humility, honesty, and integrity,” and hoping to avoid another catastrophe that could spur unity, (I wonder what we even call a catastrophe anymore. Obviously, school shootings haven’t motivated society to make changes). How do you think we start? I feel like our country is floundering.