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**Joy Fortifies Inner Strength**


 Last Tuesday, during Eskom’s Stage 6 load-shedding, I sat in my dimly lit kitchen in Akasia, sipping rooibos tea by candlelight. My neighbor, Mama Dlamini, shouted over the fence: *“Haai wena, Harold! Even the stars are load-shedding tonight!”* We laughed—a sharp, defiant sound cutting through the darkness. In that moment, I realized something sacred: **joy is not passive; it’s a rebellion**.  

### **Joy as Voltage in a Darkening Grid**  

South Africa knows darkness. We’ve memorized Eskom’s schedules like psalms. But what if our collective *amandla*—our power—isn’t just in protesting failed systems, but in refusing to let despair hijack our spirits? Nehemiah 8:10 isn’t a platitude; it’s a strategy. When the Israelites rebuilt Jerusalem’s walls, they did so with “joy” as their scaffolding. Today, our “walls” are crumbling infrastructure, political cynicism, and the haunting legacy of inequality. Yet, joy rebuilds.  

Last month, I visited a township in Gqeberha where children danced *amapiano* on dirt roads despite sewage spills. Their laughter wasn’t denial; it was defiance. Like David’s unashamed dancing before the Ark (2 Samuel 6:14), their joy declared: *“This chaos won’t own us.”* Philosopher Søren Kierkegaard wrote, *“The thorn in the flesh is no mere metaphor; it is the very condition for the leap of faith.”* Our thorns—load-shedding, unemployment, xenophobia—are real. But joy is the leap.  

### **The Baobab Principle: Roots in Dry Ground**  

In Limpopo, there’s a baobab tree older than colonialism. It thrives in arid soil, hollowed by time yet still bearing fruit. The prophet Isaiah said, *“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor”* (Isaiah 61:3). South Africa’s faith is a baobab faith: gnarled, resilient, unimpressed by drought.  

Last week, *News24* reported a surge in “community hope networks”—ordinary South Africans planting gardens in abandoned lots, tutoring kids under solar lights, bartering skills instead of rands. These acts are sacraments. When my cousin Thabo lost his job, he started a WhatsApp group called *“Ubuntu Uber”*—neighbors share rides, saving fuel costs. It’s messy, imperfect, yet infused with what theologian Jürgen Moltmann called *“the theology of hope.”* Joy isn’t a feeling; it’s *doing* the thing despair says is impossible.  

### **Joy vs. Toxic Positivity: A Caveat**  

Let’s be clear: joy ≠ ignoring pain. When Job lamented, God didn’t scold him; He *answered from the whirlwind* (Job 38:1). Even Jesus wept (John 11:35). But here’s the rub: biblical joy is *lament’s companion*, not its enemy. Last month’s tragic taxi strike in Cape Town—which left commuters stranded and businesses burning—demands tears. Yet, I’ve seen pastors and imams share pulpits, calling for peace. That’s joy in action: choosing unity when chaos profits from division.  

### **The Algorithm of Praise**  

In a world obsessed with metrics—load-shedding apps, crime stats, rand/dollar rates—joy is an algorithm breaker. Paul and Silas sang in prison at midnight (Acts 16:25), and their praise triggered an earthquake. Modern application? When my friend Zinhle’s startup failed, she hosted a “gratitude braai” instead of a pity party. We ate boerewors and shared stories of survival. By morning, she’d received three job leads. Coincidence? Maybe. But I’ve learned: **praise recalibrates spiritual Wi-Fi**.  

### **Invitation: Be a Joy Arsonist**  

Pretoria’s jacarandas are blooming again. Purple confetti on streets named after conquerors and freedom fighters. What if we, like those trees, insist on beauty amid concrete? Dutch theologian Abraham Kuyper said, *“No single piece of our mental world is to be walled off from Christ.”* That includes our Instagram feeds, boardrooms, and taxi ranks.  

This week, try this: For every load-shedding hour, light a candle and name one grace. Text a friend: *“I see you.”* Support a local spaza shop. Joy is kinetic—it *moves*, like the Spirit over chaos (Genesis 1:2).  

**Prayer**:  

*God of rolling blackouts and resurrection dawns,  

make us unyielding light-bearers.  

Where systems fail, let our joy be a generator.  

Where hatred trends, let our love go viral.  

Turn our akasia into oaks,  

our tears into defiance,  

our laughter into revolution.  

Amen.*  

**Postscript**: As I finish this essay, the power returns. My kettle boils. Mama Dlamini yells: *“Kagiso, put on the kettle—I’m coming over!”* Joy, it seems, is best served with rooibos and a side of load-shedding survival tips.

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