In October of 2019, John and Angie Graves, my husband, Mikal, and I had the opportunity to travel to Lesotho, Africa, to serve with missionaries Stan and Angie Burleson. Our team hosted multiple Vacation Bible Schools, led adult discipleship, taught a women’s Bible study, and sang way too many rounds of The Hokey Pokey.

While we were planning and preparing for the trip, I felt that God began consistently asking me, “Do you trust me?” Admittedly, that made me a little nervous because typically when God asks you to trust Him, things aren’t going to go as you’ve planned. So, I spent most of the trip waiting for things to fall apart. But they never did. Both going and coming back, flights were on time, and all of our bags made it. We all stayed relatively healthy. Even when we’d planned on 75 for VBS and 175 showed up each day, nothing fell apart.

It wasn’t until I returned home that I realized God asking if I trusted Him was meant for how I processed and reflected on what we’d experienced.

During our trip, Lesotho was in a horrible drought. The water was the lowest it’s ever been. All but one of the villages we visited were without water and didn’t know the next time they’d have water. While recent rains have brought some relief, it continues to be a struggle.

Women and children are abused in various ways. One in three is HIV positive. Witch doctors and ancestor worship have often captured the hearts and attention of the people, and the presence of spiritual darkness is almost tangible.

“Do you trust me?”

God continued to ask me this question as I returned home with a new love and deep concern for the Basotho.

The problems facing the Basotho seem bigger than the mountains on which they live, but how incredible to know that our God is even bigger.

The same God who calms the storms is the same God who we can trust to provide the storms when our lands are dry. The same God who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one is climbing the mountains of Lesotho to bring life to not just the land but the hearts of the Basotho.

How foolish am I to think that God isn’t big enough to be all we need and to provide all we ask for? How foolish am I to think that despair and suffering in the Lesotho mountains means there is no hope?

I fully trust God to continue His work in Lesotho. I’m so thankful that God is bigger than what the Basotho are facing (and what each of us are facing in our own lives), and I’m thankful to have been a small part of reaching those ends of the earth for Christ’s sake.

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