The Sweet Side of Suffering Then he cried out to the LORD, and the LORD showed him a piece of wood. He threw it into the water, and the water became sweet. — Exodus 15:25 My dear brothers and sisters, let me tell you what happened to me last Thursday in Akasia. I was standing outside my gate, watching the municipal truck struggle past the potholes on Daan Street—those craters we have been complaining about since 2019. And as I stood there, a neighbour I shall call Brother Themba walked past with a bucket on his head. "Harold," he said, his voice carrying that familiar weight of exhaustion, "the water is bitter again." Bitter water. Not just the taste—the whole experience. The pressure is low, the pipes are old, and when it finally comes, it tastes like rust and regret. I looked at that bucket and I heard the Spirit whisper: There is your sermon, Mawela. There is your text. You see, beloved, Israel had just walked through the Red Sea. They had seen Pharaoh's char...
Title: The Nearness That Needs No Explanation Subtitle: Why Your Brokenness Is Not a Barricade but a Beacon By Harold Mawela | Akasia, Pretoria I. The Crash That Taught Me to Listen The screeching tyres on the N1 near Akasia last winter sounded exactly like my heart breaking. One moment I was navigating the potholes we've all learned to dodge—those craterous scars on our provincial roads that the newspapers say claim a dozen lives monthly—and the next, my car was performing a grotesque ballet with a barrier. Metal screamed. Glass splintered into a thousand glistening tears. And in that suspended second between control and chaos, I felt the strangest sensation: peace. Not the peace of survival, but the peace of absolute, utter helplessness . As I sat there, airbag dust settling on my lips like ash on a Ash Wednesday forehead, I waited for God to arrive. I composed my prayer: "Lord, thank You for protecting me. Thank You for Your hedge of protection. I bind the spirit of acciden...