HAROLD MAWELA

 ## The Unshakeable Compass: Divine Wisdom in a Land of Shifting Sands   **Akasia Dawn**   The morning sun paints the Magaliesberg in hues of burnt orange, yet my kitchen remains shadowed. *Load-shedding again.* I fumble for candles, my mind racing: *Will the water pump work? Did I save that document? How will Adanna’s online exams proceed?* Human understanding, in this moment, feels like a sputtering generator—overburdened, underpowered. It’s here, amid the smell of melting wax and uncertainty, that Proverbs 3:5–6 pierces the gloom: *"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding."*   ### The Illusion of Human Control   We South Africans know the seduction of self-reliance. We’ve rebuilt after floods, protested failing services, and navigated potholes deeper than mining shafts. Yet 2024’s unity government—that fragile mosaic of ideologies—reveals our limits . Politicians promise "new dawns," yet 287 schools still ...

 ## The Unbreaking Reed: Why Faith Bends But Never Breaks in South Africa’s Gale My friends, gather close. The Pretoria wind whistles a familiar tune tonight, whipping dust down our Akasia streets. Just yesterday, perched on my rooftop chasing a signal *past* load-shedding’s shadow (ah, Eskom’s fickle flicker!), I watched a young marula tree. That fierce Highveld gust bent it near double – branches pleading towards the earth. Yet, come dawn? There it stood. Straight. Resilient. Greener, it seemed. Not a twig broken. **Rigidity breaks; flexibility thrives.** That tree preached a sermon louder than my Sunday best. We know this wind, don’t we? It’s not just meteorological. It’s the gale of change roaring through our beloved, beleaguered Mzansi. Coalition governments shift like Kalahari dunes. The Rand dances a dizzying jig. Streets simmer with frustration, while screens scream global chaos. We long for stability, a solid rock unmoved. Yet, Isaiah whispers God’s disruptive promise: *“S...

 ## The Tongue’s Fire: Between Prophetic Authority and Charismatic Charlatans in the African Landscape ### I. Akasia Dawn: A Personal Prologue   The morning mist still clings to the thorn trees outside my Akasia window as I sip rooibos tea, the radio murmuring familiar headlines: another “prophet” arrested for fraud, a township pastor promising miracle debt-cancellations if followers sow “faith seeds” into his Mercedes fund, a politician quoting Deuteronomy to justify corruption. My heart tightens. *This*, brothers and sisters, is where our battle rages—not merely in the realm of ideas, but in the very *integrity of the spoken word*. When Scripture declares, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21), it unveils a cosmic principle hijacked by hucksters and redeemed by saints. Today, we journey into the fire and fallout of prophetic declarations in a land thirsty for authenticity. ### II. Defining the Terrain: Prophecy vs. Performance   **A....

 ## The Obedience Key: Unlocking Africa’s Anointing in the Midst of Storms The command came on a rain-lashed Pretoria morning. I stood at my window in Akasia, watching the deluge turn streets into rivers—a too-familiar metaphor for our nation’s storms. My phone buzzed: a ministry colleague urged me to speak at a gathering in Nineveh… well, *Alexandra Township*, a place where my comfortable theology felt as out of place as a snowman on Church Square. My spirit recoiled. *"Too complex, Harold. Too risky. Let someone younger, bolder, go."* Then it echoed—Samuel’s ancient roar cutting through 3,000 years of human evasion: **“To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22).** Not *slightly* better. Not *contextually* better. *Fundamentally, eternally better.*   ### I. The Skeleton Key of Sovereignty   Obedience isn’t groveling submission to a celestial tyrant. It’s the skeleton key crafted for the locks binding our blessings. Picture a miner deep in Rustenberg’s p...

 ## The Flickering Filament: Divine Presence in a Load-Shed Soul Friend, let me tell you about yesterday. There I was, navigating the familiar battlefield of the N1 North during peak hour, Pretoria’s concrete veins throbbing with frustrated metal. The sun, a weary orange disc, bled into the smog. My dashboard clock blinked – 5:37 PM. And then, *phut*. Not just the traffic lights ahead, but my *own* spirit dimmed. Eskom’s cruel scheduler had struck again. Load-shedding. Stage 6. Darkness, literal and metaphorical, began its encroach. The aircon died, the radio silenced, and the carefully constructed illusion of control in my air-conditioned bubble evaporated. Just another Tuesday in Mzansi, *ne*? But in that sudden, powerless stillness, crammed between impatient taxis and growling bakkies, the Lord whispered a truth sharper than any hooter: *"Apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).* **Ah, "nothing."** Let’s define our terms clearly, brothers and sisters. It do...

 ## The Forge of Faith: Escaping the Bloodless Gospel’s Embrace **Akasia, Pretoria — July 2025**   The winter air bites sharp as a *mamba*’s tooth here in Akasia. I sip rooibos tea on my porch, watching the *veld* shimmer gold under a brittle sun. On my phone, headlines scream: *“59 White South Africans Granted US Refugee Status!”* . Elsewhere, a viral clip shows a prophet in sequinned robes demanding a congregant’s salary “for angelic investment.” My chest tightens. *This*, friends, is the fruit of a **bloodless gospel**—a faith anaemic, diluted, divorced from the Cross’s terrible furnace. It whispers, *“Just believe,”* ignoring Christ’s roar: *“If anyone would come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me!”* (Luke 9:23).   ### I. The Lukewarm Swamp: Where Truth Drowns   *“So, because you are lukewarm... I will spit you out of My mouth.”* (Revelation 3:16).   **Picture this:** Laodicea’s aqueducts, stagnant with...