Prison ministry.
The first two words that stood out to me when I heard about our ministry opportunities this month. I love kids, don’t get me wrong. Playing with kids at the schools is right up my alley. Painting school murals? Yes please. Construction for an orphanage? Sign me up. Mixing mortar? Surprisingly, something I enjoy doing. Even more if we get to mix it on the ground.
But this month God put the words prison ministry heavy on my heart.
When I found out our schedule, prison ministry was only once a week. For an hour. Bummer. But that first day came, and I was anxious with excitement.
We walked about thirty minutes downhill into a valley. Down lots of rocks and gravel roads, the traction of our chacos barely keeping us upright. The longer we walked downhill, the more we dreaded that return walk back up.
We walked down to the prison with our host, all the way to the gate. No forms to be filled out, no identification to be checked, no questions to be asked. The biggest source of crime here in Lesotho is stealing animals. Depending on how many they steal and their history of offenses, determines the length of their sentence.
Entering the gate, we walked downhill some more. Inside the prison was one big pit, progressively getting lower; the walls progressively getting higher. Instead of barbed wire or electric wire, the walls surrounding the pit were lined with beer/coke bottles broken in half, the jagged edges of glass cemented along the top.
The men, ranging in ages, but the majority older were dressed in burgundy colored sweaters with two white stripes horizontally across the front. Several of them were wrapped in wool blankets, a common thing for the people here in Lesotho. At first, I wasn’t sure if they were just cold in this 80 degree weather or if the blankets were being used as protection from the sun. But it turns out, the blankets are a traditional garment to be worn here in Lesotho.
All of the men were scattered around the pit and their eyes continued to stare back at us. We are the third world race team to be here in Mokhotlong. The first was sometime last year and the second was here just last month. The prisoners, depending how long they had been there, had seen teams like us come through before.
We started with a couple of songs, followed by Nicole’s testimony. Afterwards, Allison got up and shared part of her story, along with a short message. She shared how her Dad was saved in prison, about how his freedom started the day he was saved, far sooner than the day he was released from his cell, how her own life is a result of a man who said yes to the Lord inside of a place just like the one we were currently standing in.
After Allison shared, we did cardboard testimonies. If you aren’t familiar with cardboard testimonies, here’s how it goes. On one side of the cardboard (or paper when you find yourself lacking cardboard, like us), you write a word that defined your life before you said Yes to God. A word that you thought defined your identity, a word that described the sin in your life, or a word that consumed you. On the other side, you write how that word changed when you accepted Christ into your life. Here are some examples of what cardboard testimonies can look like.
Anna then explained that they too could have two words, that they didn’t have to be stuck on the first word. That whatever the sin was in their life, however they viewed themselves, whatever lies the enemy was telling them, didn’t have to be the end of their story.
Because there is no one that is too broken or too far gone that he or she can’t come home to the Father.
All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made up alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions – it is by grace you have been saved. Ephesians 2:3-4
At the end, we asked if anyone wanted to accept Christ into their hearts; if anyone wanted to come forward and become a part of His forever family.
Sometimes I wonder when we are up there sharing: what do people in these countries think when we arrive. Do they think, “Here come the americans, trying to tell us that we are loved and to just keep having faith. But they don’t get it, they don’t get us. Things are different here.”
Or do they understand, I mean truly understand, our hearts. That home, family, friends, and all of our comforts are worth leaving if it means just one person hears the gospel and enters His adopted family this entire year.
Allison said it perfectly, staying at home would have definitely been easier, more comfortable. If we didn’t believe with every particle of our being that the gospel was so powerful, so life-changing, and so vital to every living being, we would have never left the states. We’ve each been called to share his love with the world, shouting from mountaintops, praising him every step of the way. If we didn’t believe that this was the light and the truth, we would have had no reason to be there in that prison.
But He told us to go to the nations, and we said yes. He told us to leave home, and we said yes. He told us to live a radical life, understood by few, and we said yes.
Some days, we don’t want to. Some days, it’s easier to think about staying in bed or what it would look like to be back home.
But what happened next, in our last few minutes at the prison, blew me away. What happened next, made every hard moment the past five months absolutely worth it.
After we asked if anyone wanted to accept Christ into their hearts; if anyone wanted to come forward and become a part of His forever family, fourteen prisoners came forward. Fourteen prisoners stood before us, lifting their hands up to the Father, crying out they were sinners and that they needed a Savior. Fourteen men found the ultimate freedom. Today, February 10th, we gained fourteen new brothers inside the prison walls of Mokhotlong, Lesotho.
He is such a good Father. And he used us, seven girls from all across America, to bring them home.
Sometimes life is going to be uncomfortable. Sometimes He is going to call you somewhere and all you want to do is run the other way. But wherever He is asking you to go, whatever He is asking you to do, He will use you in ways that you never imagined. He will use you to reach people that you never deemed possible.
He loves the prisoners of Mokhotlong so much that he brought seven Americans all the way to Lesotho to tell them for Him, so that He could speak to them through us. And He loves you and me just as much.
So family and friends, pray with me that our fourteen new brothers continue to seek after Him. That they continue to pray, trusting His timing and His plan in their lives, even through the hardships. That they find freedom, even inside those prison walls. Pray with me that their lives are changed forever. That who they were when they walked into those gates isn’t the same person when they leave. And most of all, pray with me that He keeps using us in big ways.
And don’t be surprised by the ways he can use you, too. Wherever you are, ask Him to use you in other peoples lives. He will be right there with you, every step of the way.
What an incredible day, all before ten am. He really is a good, good Father.
