Life in the Mountains

   The first ten days in Lesotho were spent living in the mission house of Growing Nations, an organization that teaches Basotho students how to "Farm God's Way" in their own crops using resources that He has provided instead of machinery or other techniques that lead to ruining their fields. After learning the ropes of basic farming and spending time as a team working on projects for Growing Nations, it was time once again to pack up my backpack and head out to spend two and half weeks living with a resident student of Growing Nations in their rural Lesotho village. Living alone with a family who speaks a language called Sesotho; I expected to be challenged. Challenged to live without what I now refer to as luxuries, such as a toilet, a shower and a kitchen. But the things that really pushed me past my comfort zone were the things I didn't expect. Things like being stared at and whispered about no matter where I was, obeying commands to follow without having any idea where I was going or what I would need, and the constant feeling of being an outcast or some form of entertainment. Even simply sitting cross legged was a spectacle. Unfortunately my first week in this mountainous village made my heart a little bitter. I didn't understand Gods purpose placing me there. I didn't understand how to build relationships with people who only spoke to me in a language I didn't understand. To be honest I was ashamed that I was living in a place I imagine is modeled after heaven and feeling so reluctant and frustrated. 

 Because of this frustration I began reading my bible merely to escape this new web I found myself trapped in. As I read, I yearned to read more. A form of entertainment became my lifeline. My heart desired to grow closer to God, but I knew this required me to die to myself, and in that is sacrifice. Sacrificing my complaints and grumblings to attain a thankful heart, sacrificing my control to trust that The Lord would bring good out of my uncomfortable situation, sacrificing my worldly self to walk in the footsteps of Jesus. These sacrifices were hard, but I began picking up on blessings that I didn't see before. Even the rising sun coming up over the mountain was a gift I knew God was giving to me. As He softened my heart I realized that my Sesotho name, Lerato (which means love in English) was not just a name anymore. It was my purpose. My purpose everywhere but specifically here and now. I needed to love the people that don't know how to love. My Heavenly Father let His Presence rain down on me, drenching me in His peace and soaking me in His love. And as I began to love like He does, I began to see through His eyes. This love wasn't easy love, this was painful love. I now looked around and didn't feel disgusted that all of the adults in the village lived in a constant state of drunkenness, I felt the brokenness. That universal brokenness. The brokenness that I've harvested for years that The Gardener has to continue to tend to and get rid of so that He can plant the fullness of life in me. That brokenness that I've witnessed grow like weeds choking out the peace and grace that The Gardener plants in friends and family. It's here, that old brokenness. Basotho men and women live in it, and so they try to fill the empty void with drinks that make them dance, and drugs that make them laugh and I look in their eyes with the eyes of God and I see the desperation, I see the calling for something more. I'm struck again with the truth that ugly lives everywhere, even here, the most beautiful place my eyes have ever seen. Through the ugly, I see the arrow that points up. It always does. The arrow that points back to The One who mends the broken, and finds beauty in the ugly. The One who is everywhere just waiting for you to find Him. And I pray that the Basotho people find Him. And I pray that the Basotho people saw at least a little sliver of Him in me.

The Basotho people believe that everyone is happy in America because they are rich. In America we often soothe ourselves by saying that the poor are happy because they don't live with complications. Both of these are untrue. We all live the empty life, whether we stop at Starbucks for coffee or walk 3 miles for water. We all feel the aches of loneliness and questions of purpose. Instead of feeling guilty for not finishing our plates when there are starving children in Africa, we should feel guilty that we don't take time to thank God for everything He provides. Because when God begins to fill that empty soul of yours, the sin of worry disappears. No more will we worry about our jobs, or our cell phones or the traffic on the way home. No more will we worry about where we will have the money to buy food, or the walk to the tap, or our health. The physical needs are nothing in the light of what the spirit needs.

   So be challenged to no longer pray for things of this world. Begin to pray for the things of the heavenly realm. Pray for salvation for yourself, for your friends, for that man on the bus sitting three rows back, for the homeless woman on the street corner, and for the Basotho people. Pray that they find God instead of food, that they are satisfied in Him, instead of money. Pray that no matter where that person is in life, that the face of God shines on them, and that they are saved in His unfailing love (Psalm 31:16).

"Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful." 

Hebrews 10:22-23