Lesotho

Yesterday I went into Lesotho (which is pronounced Le-sue-too). It is a separate nation to South Africa, but is encapsulated within the borders of South Africa. It's basically a landlocked mountain kingdom, with a river operating as a natural border between the two nations. I went in with a guy called Pete, a Zimbabwean, who is assisting a guy called John to pastor a fledgling church in the Lesotho foothills. We were going into Lesotho to visit one of the cell groups of the church, which is about 70 strong.

Travelling through the border control checkpoint, I was surprised by the rapid change of surroundings. In my experience in Europe, when you pass through one border to another on the mainland continent the changes in building styles, peoples dress and general environment is hardly noticeable, apart from obvious things like languages used in signs. However, this was different - very, very quickly it was evident to me I was in another country - and a very different country.

In South Africa, people of the townships live in tin shacks they have built themselves from anything that have been able to scavenge. In Lesotho, the people I saw all seemed to live in clay and dry mud huts they had built themselves. Many of them had thatched roofs, and a few had tiled roofs. There was a real sense of pride in their homes, as many were brightly decorated and kept clean and tidy. These houses were spread out on the hill and mountain sides, alongside vegetable patches and fenced areas where livestock were kept.

The people were dressed like westerners, but many of them wore what seemed like thick blankets wrapped around themselves. I was told these blankets are made from mohair from goats and keep them warm during the night, when the exposed hillside can become very cold. Although Lesotho itself seemed a very dry, parched land with rare rainfalls, when the rain does fall it apparently can be short but very heavy - so these blankets double as rain wear. The thick hair absorbs much of the water keeping the wearer dry.

During the journey, I got chance to spend a couple of hours with three of the Africans who are part of the year of leadership training the South African church nearby is doing. Two of these guys are from Lesotho - 20 and 19 years old - and the third is South African and is 25. We spoke about the challenges and hopes of leadership, disappointments in ministry and pains in life that God shapes us through. I have much to learn about from these guys about faith, and trusting God, in all things. We all shared about our desires to get married, which was probably when the four of us got the most animated, and had the most to say!

Driving along bumpy dirt tracks through the hills was an experience all of itself, partly due to the challenge of the terrain (praise God for land rovers and seat belts!) and partly because of the cattle, donkeys and sheep wandering around in the road! Pete told me we would be collecting a few of the Lesotho people for the group, and at various stops we collected two or three. The thing is we made about five stops, so at one point there was probably twenty or so people crammed into this vehicle, and a small city collected in the boot!

After a journey of about an hour, we finally got to the house where the meeting would take place. On the outside it was a fairly large hut - comparative in size to a living room - and we were welcomed by the owner. One thing about the Lesotho people is that they are all very friendly and very welcoming. They laugh a lot, and despite the language barrier enjoy banter and interaction with me, as well as each other. They seem to live as part of each others lives in a way that could show us Westerners much about community.

Inside the house, I noticed a coaster gift set on the wall for decorative purposes. This gift set was six coasters, each portraying a London landmark. Still in the box and in a central place on the wall, i had to wonder about the influence Britain and the West has had on this part of the world. And how much of that influence has been for good...

People continued to come in, until this house was packed out. The meeting began with worship, but done Lesotho style. No songbooks, no projector, no words - just a girl in her late teens or early twenties leading African songs with everyone else following. Although i didn't understand any of the words, I could tell from the rhythm and simplicity of the songs that these were sung from the heart. During worship, the leader encouraged us to pray for rain. Without recent rain, many crops were in danger of dying and therefore a primary food source would be lost. So we all prayed out, asking God to bless the land with rain. After we stopped praying, a funny thing happened. We began to hear sounds like little hammers on the tin roof. These sounds got heavier and heavier, with more frequency. It couldn't be... could it? I wasn't sure myself, so began to look out the door to see if anything was impacted the ground. However, the clap of thunder and flash of lightning grabbed my attention by the scruff of the neck. Sure enough, the sky had darkened and the wind had picked up. Right before our eyes, as we had just prayed for it to happen, it was beginning to rain...

With the rainfall getting heavier and heavier, the echo on the metal roof made speech very difficult, as Pastor John sat down to teach. He shared a sermon for forty-five minutes or so from Colossians 2 about the importance of being rooted in Christ. He had no notes, no words pre-prepared and didn't bother with fancy alliterative points. He just shared passionately, from the heart and with passion and conviction. His message was simple: be rooted in Christ, be rooted in the Word, be rooted in the Spirit and be rooted in the Church. We ended the meeting by praying for one another, and responding to some prophetic words a couple of us shared. The Lesotho people refused to end the meeting without praying for me, so I ended up in a circle with a multitude of African hands on me, wanting to bless me. It was beautiful. There was a real buzz as we left the house and went our separate ways. I couldn't help but think about how much like the New Testament that meeting would have been like. It wasn't polished or slick, but there was an honesty and simplicity to it. People enjoyed God whilst being led by the Spirit, with spontaneity and freedom. There was no thinking about the time or agenda.

Some began the walk back to their houses, others climbed upon the Range Rover of Death with the other twenty or so people. I myself sat in the front between the two seats, with the heartsick between my legs! Thankfully - or not, as the case may be - I had to control gears whilst Pete drove. Frankly, I was in a no win situation between manipulating gears to ensure we were in control during the treacherous mountain descent, and protecting any chance i may ever have in the future of having children. Luckily, God was gracious to me and everyone - and everything - survived intact and in one piece!

We dropped of the last of the Lesotho people, and drove back through the border to South Africa, back home. The rain was still pouring, and the flash of lighting over the hills and peal of thunder above us reminded me that wherever or whatever is going on, there is always so much unseen we don't know about. Sometimes God reveals the unseen so it can be seen, but whether we see or not, it is a walk of faith. And when we walk, if we don't move forward over new ground we simply stand still.