The Gospel of Freedom

Nothing has changed my perspective on the gospel quite like living in Lesotho has.

It’s easily the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, a cozy mountain oasis with a sweetly peaceful pace of life. Everywhere you turn, you’re met with a breathtaking view, some
sort of glorious expression of the creativity of God.

Shepards care for their flocks attentively across the landscape in a bible story analogy turned real life. To get to any of the few locations where we live in Malealea is at least a 30 minute hike through a landscape so stunning it doesn’t feel real. It’s impossible to look at the beauty of Lesotho and not see the character of the intentional, mind bogglingly wonderful creator behind it all.

My team name is Nissi, meaning “God our banner” which comes from a story in Exodus 17. I’ve never seen Jehovah Nissi personified quite like I have here in Lesotho. His love is a banner that stretches across every inch.

Since being here, I’ve seen six brothers and sisters come under the love of Jesus.

Two young women, close friends who were braiding hair when we arrived. One a tired single mother looking for a deeper meaning and the other a high school aged beauty taking any job possible in hopes of getting money to pay school fees and finish her education. Both in need of a hope and a purpose.

A beautiful woman full of grace and laughter. Working seven days a week as a housekeeper to provide for her nine year old son. Devastated by a husband who left, wanting a hope and a future. She was moved to tears by the love of savior who met her in the mundane. 

A boy my age, full of life and an itch for adventure, working as a shepherd to provide his family. Frustrated by the grueling hours of shepherding and desperately seeking a change of pace. He connected deeply with Psalm 23 and understood the gospel in a way that I never will. He was astounded by the fact that Jesus cared enough about his flock to die for them. “I would never do that!” he exclaimed moments before he gave his life to Christ.

A older man who had deeply rooted hurt and was desperate for Jesus. “I need Jesus now!” He’d exclaimed.

He fell to his knees as he said the sinner’s prayer and came into the family of heaven.

An elderly woman, who lived alone and was unemployed. She had a stroke in 2003, and experienced long term physical repercussions. Her children lived in the city for school, leaving her without a soul who knew her nearby. She had been baptized as a baby but never knew Jesus. “He loves me?”

She wept for joy as a teammate washed her feet and told her of the love that Jesus has for her.

I was a vessel in a deliverance from deep rooted demonic oppression. My heart broke at the torment and suffering of the woman, but what brought me to tears was the freedom the Lord brought. The gospel broke her chains and brought her life in a way nothing else could.

That’s what the gospel is. It’s unlike any religion the world could offer. It’s a message of free, unconditional love. A hope, a future, a relationship with your creator that satisfies your deepest desires. A name powerful enough to break every chain and set the captives free.

And we get the blessing as followers of Jesus to carry that hope to others.

It’s such a gift to be a vessel and witness of what the Lord is doing. I’m expectant to see how he will move during the rest of our time here.

The Lord is good.

The gospel brings freedom.

He will have his people.

Lesotho belongs to Jesus.