HAROLD MAWELA

 ## The Unbreakable Thread: Love as Covenant in a Fractured Land The afternoon sun hammers down on the asphalt of Brits Road, just outside the Wonderpark Shopping Centre in Karenpark, Akasia. I watch the ebb and flow—the tired faces spilling out of taxis, the anxious security guards scanning crowds, the sharp divide between those clutching designer bags and those clutching hope. Here, in this northern Pretoria suburb built on old agricultural holdings now buzzing with city life , I feel the pulse of our nation: a tapestry of beauty and brokenness. Crime statistics scream from memory—murder up 1.4%, attempted murder by 4.1%, rape by 4.6% . Our beloved South Africa, someone lamented on Facebook, has become “an unsafe, corrupt, sick, violent, inhuman, lawless land where the lives of people are not worth anything” . Is this our destiny? Or is there an unbreakable thread that can mend our torn social fabric? Last week, a different scene gripped me. A young man, high on something cheap a...

 ## The Unseen Currency: When Faith Wears Work Boots in Akasia’s Dust   *(A reflection on Hebrews 11:6 from the shadow of the Magaliesberg)*   **1. The Cracked Pavement Revelation**   Last Tuesday, as Eskom’s load-shedding plunged Akasia into Stage 6 darkness, I stumbled over a broken sidewalk near the Mariamman Temple—that century-old sanctuary of vibrant Hindu devotion on our city’s edge . In that moment, fumbling for my phone’s dying torch, Hebrews 11:6 electrified my spirit sharper than any grid: *"Without faith it’s impossible to please God."* Not difficult. Not inconvenient. **Impossible.**   In our South Africa—where rolling blackouts steal productivity, corruption empties coffers, and distrust hangs thicker than Highveld smoke—we’ve made an idol of visible security. We clutch solar-panel invoices, CVs stacked with credentials, or political promises like sacred talismans. Yet God demands a currency we cannot hold: **daring trust.** "An...

 ## The Vault Unlocked: When Prayer Ignites Dominion Over Pretoria’s Thornveld   *(An Akasia Testament)*   The jacaranda petals fall like purple whispers across my driveway in Karenpark. Winter sun cuts through the smoke of a *braai* down the street. But beneath this quiet—this familiar Pretoria calm—I hear the deeper tremor: the thud of a police dossier dropped on a minister’s desk in Cape Town , the wail of a widow in Soshanguve, the growl of a demon prowling Thornbrook Golf Estate’s manicured edges. Akasia sleeps, but heaven’s vault waits.   **Prayer is not negotiation; it is occupation.**   James 5:16 rings like a *mbira* in my spirit: *“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.”* . Note the words: *effectual*—bearing the force of law in celestial courts. *Fervent*—boiling, like *pap* over a fire. *Righteous*—not sinless, but blood-bought. This is no ritual. This is the key turning in the lock of realms.   #...

 ## The Folly of the Wise: When Intellect Drowns in Its Own Cistern   The pit latrine stank of neglect—a festering wound in the earth where hope drowned. I stood at the Eastern Cape daycare last April, where a three-year-old boy had slipped into darkness . Officials murmured about "infrastructure backlogs" and "budget constraints." My own mind raced with solutions: policy reforms, engineering blueprints, activist coalitions. Then, a grandmother’s wail shattered my calculus: "Why does democracy forget the children?" In that moment, my intellectual scaffolding crumbled. I had *answers* but no *lament*. No knees bent in the soil.   This is South Africa’s crisis: we worship at the twin altars of *rationalism* and *resentment*. The educated elite draft Medium-Term Strategic Frameworks while 3.8 million youth—our "Born Frees"—idle in the limbo of unemployment, their dreams throttled by systems we designed . The anti-intellectuals dismiss reason as a co...

 ## The Eternal Harvest: Redeeming Time in the Soil of Now The old man’s hands, gnarled like baobab roots, cupped the soil behind our Akasia home. "Lefa," my grandfather whispered, "watch the *mmilo* tree. Its fruit sleeps in the seed, but only *isikhathi*—time watered with patience—unlocks its sweetness." He spoke not of botany, but of *kronos* and *kairos*—the ticking clock and the divine appointment. Like Solomon pleading for wisdom to discern seasons (Ecclesiastes 3:1), or Daniel partitioning his days between imperial service and kneeling prayer (Daniel 6:10), he understood: **time is the tithe we offer on eternity’s altar.** ### I. The Broken Clock: When Seconds Slip Through Our Fingers Last Tuesday, Eskom’s load-shedding plunged Pretoria into darkness. Candles flickered as my smartphone died—that insistent master of stolen moments. In the sudden stillness, Jesus’ words burned: "As long as it is day, we must do the works of Him who sent me. Night is coming...

 ## The Unbreakable Shield: Why Integrity is Your Greatest Weapon in Broken Times   The afternoon sun blazed over Akasia as I sat in my study, wrestling with a tender temptation. A prominent publisher had offered me a lucrative book deal—if I’d soften my stance on biblical marriage. "Harold," the email pleaded, "this isn’t compromise; it’s *contextualization*." Outside my window, Pretoria’s jacarandas blazed purple, their roots cracking pavements. *A fitting metaphor*, I mused. **Truth, like a tree, must break concrete to bloom.**   ### I. The Anatomy of Integrity: More Than Honesty   Integrity—*ubuntu botho* in our Sesotho heritage—is wholeness. It’s what remains when the spotlight dies. Scripture defines it sharply: "The Lord detests lying lips, but He delights in people who are trustworthy" (Proverbs 12:22). Notice the contrast: God doesn’t merely *disapprove* of deceit; He *delights* in trustworthiness. Why? Because integrity mirrors His nature—una...

 ## The Dusty Path to the Throne: Why Humility is Your Secret Weapon Friends, gather close. Harold Mawela here, from Akasia, Pretoria. Just this morning, sitting on my stoep watching the N1 highway choke with its usual symphony of hooters and frustration, I saw it again – the modern scramble for honour. The flashy cars pushing lanes, the impatient gestures, the desperate race to be *seen*, to be *first*. It mirrors the ache in our souls, doesn’t it? That deep hunger for significance, for respect, for a crown that doesn’t tarnish. But Scripture whispers a disruptive, divine strategy: **Humility Unlocks Honour**. Not the honour the world peddles, but the eternal weight of glory bestowed by the King Himself. James cuts through our pretence like a laser: *“God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble”* (James 4:6). Let’s define our terms clearly, brothers and sisters. **Pride** isn’t just arrogance; it’s the clenched fist of the soul, the insistence that *my* way, *my* recogniti...

 ## The Unbreakable Anvil: Forging Faith When Sparks Fly My friends, let me tell you about the flood. Not Noah’s – though heavens know, KwaZulu-Natal felt like a rerun last rainy season! No, this was *my* little deluge. Picture this: Akasia skies open like a burst dampipe, water cascading off my roof like Victoria Falls in miniature, finding every crack in my ageing stoep. Before I could say "Eskom," my lounge was a swimming pool, my favourite armchair bobbing like a reluctant duck. And there, floating serenely atop the muddy water? My grandmother’s old Bible. Talk about a divine irony! In that soggy chaos, James 1:2-4 wasn’t just ink on a page; it was a lifeline thrown into the storm: "*Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.*" That submerged Bible became ...

 ## The Gatekeepers of Your Destiny: Walking Wisely in a World of Betrayers and Builders   The rusty hinge of my Akasia gate whined like a wounded animal. *Eina*, how it protested as I pushed it open last Tuesday! Just beyond, two paths diverged: one led to Uncle Sipho’s *spaza* shop where men debated politics over steaming *mugogo*; the other wound toward Pastor Thabo’s study, smelling of old books and earnest prayer. That squeaking hinge became God’s microphone: *"Every entrance and exit, Harold, is a destiny-altering decision. Your inner circle? That’s your altar. And what you sacrifice there—your time, your trust—determines your throne."*   ### The South African Crucible: Where Loyalty is Tested by Fire   We need not rehearse ancient history to taste betrayal’s venom. Consider our own soil: When the Nelson Mandela Foundation launched its 2024 campaign targeting Christian Zionists, it weaponized "human rights" language to demonize millions of faithf...

 ## Binding the Strongman: A South African’s Battle Plan for Spiritual Breakthrough   *By Harold Mawela (Akasia, Pretoria)*   The cracked tar road to the Akasia police station mirrors our national soul—weary, neglected, yet straining toward hope. Last week, *The Star* reported our station operates with **5 vehicles** for 152 square kilometers . Five! While officers scramble like shepherdless sheep, a different *strongman* strangles our township: not the visible thieves, but the **invisible architects of despair**—spirits of corruption, apathy, and generational trauma. I stood there, watching Sergeant Moloi jot reports under a flickering fluorescent light, and heard the Spirit whisper: *"How shall we plunder the enemy’s house if we haven’t first bound its owner?"* (Matthew 12:29).   ### I. The Anatomy of a Strongman: Beyond Metaphor   In my Zulu grandmother’s tales, *Tokoloshe*—the hairy, mischievous demon—could only be thwarted by lifting you...

 ## The Forge of Faithful Thought: Reclaiming the Christian Intellect in a Fractured Land   **Akasia, Pretoria — July 2025**   The acrid scent of burning coal drifts through my window tonight. Eskom’s load-shedding schedule—Stage 6 again—plunges our neighborhood into darkness, yet this gloom mirrors a deeper shadow over our nation. South Africa, thirty years into democracy , still grapples with the ghosts of apartheid, the scourge of gender-based violence rising 7.9% in three months , and children learning in schools where pit latrines swallow futures whole . In such a landscape, what does it mean to *think* as a Christian? To wield intellect not as a weapon of division, but as a tool of holy reconstruction?   ### I. The Broken Compass: When Minds Wander from Truth   Last month, I stood at a protest in Sandton. Business leaders clutched placards decrying corruption—*"R10 billion stolen from hungry children!"* —their faces tight with rage. Yet...

 ## The Fortress Mind: Renewing Your Thought-Citadel in African Soil   *(A reflection from Akasia, Pretoria)* The Highveld winter sun strikes the mica in my driveway as I sip rooibos, watching a hadeda ibis stab at insects in the lawn. Across the street, my neighbour Bheki revs his minibus taxi—*"Another day, another rand,"* he shouts. We share the same soil, the same load-shedding schedule, yet our realities differ. Why? Our minds are fortresses built on different blueprints. As Paul declared: **"Be transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Romans 12:2).** This isn't spiritual poetry—it’s combat engineering for the soul. ### I. The South African Thought-Citadel: Where Culture and Chaos Collide   Picture the Union Buildings—that sandstone fortress overlooking Pretoria . Its gardens manicured, yet its gates guarded. Our minds resemble this: beautiful yet besieged. South Africa 2025 throbs with dissonances—load-shedding darkens homes while stadiums blaze for Pass...

 ## Integrity: The Unshakeable Currency of God’s Kingdom   *(A Reflection from Akasia)*   **1. The Cracked Pavement & the Unshakeable Rock**   Last Tuesday, I stood on the cracked pavement outside Soshanguve Mall, watching a street vendor named Thabo. His *kotas* were legendary—polony, slap chips, and atchar wrapped in *vetkoek*. But when a customer overpaid R50, Thabo sprinted after him. No cameras. No applause. Just integrity. In that moment, Proverbs 10:9 became flesh: *“Whoever walks in integrity walks securely.”* Thabo’s feet were anchored—not in Gauteng’s crumbling infrastructure—but on the Rock of Ages.   ### 2. The Anatomy of Integrity: More Than “Not Stealing”   **a) Biblical Foundations**   Integrity (*tom* in Hebrew) means *completeness*. Like a *knobkerrie* carved from a single branch—no weak joints. David’s integrity disarmed Saul’s spears (1 Sam 24:1-7). Judas’ deceit hanged him (Matt 27:3-5). Simple equa...

 ## The Altar in the Ashes: When Work Becomes Worship in African Soil Let me tell you a story about Tuesday. Not just any Tuesday, but a Pretoria Tuesday during stage six load-shedding. My small home office in Akasia became a sauna—no aircon, no fan, just the heavy Highveld heat and the frantic dance of my candle flame. Spreadsheets blurred before my eyes. Deadlines loomed like storm clouds. And that familiar whisper slithered in: *"Harold, is this shuffling of papers while darkness swallows the grid really kingdom work? Does God see this sweat?"* We’ve all been there, haven’t we? That chasm between the *sacred* (prayer, preaching, worship songs) and the *secular* (traffic jams on the N1, endless queues at Home Affairs, another rejected proposal). It’s an old lie wearing new Ndebele beads: **Work is a necessary evil, a distraction from *real* spiritual service.** I come today, not as a theologian on a distant hill, but as a fellow labourer knee-deep in the red soil of Mzansi,...