
Forgive Us: Why the Past Still Speaks—and Why Our Mission Still Matters
June 8, 2025

After 1953, when the Soviet Ministry of Defense turned this part of Zvārde into a military bombing range, the local cemetery at Rīteļi was desecrated. Entire villages were emptied, farms shut down, and families displaced. The cemetery—once a quiet resting place for generations—was repurposed as a target for aviation bombs. Tombstones were removed or destroyed. For nearly 40 years, the graves of Latvian citizens were treated with total disregard.
In 1988, Soviet bulldozers leveled what remained of the cemetery, wiping out visible traces of the burial ground. But the memory could not be erased.
On July 21, 1990, as the Soviet Union was beginning to collapse, local believers and clergy held a public act of repentance here. They gathered to pray, remember, and reclaim the sacredness of this place. It was one of the first times people were officially allowed to return and acknowledge what had happened.
Two years later, the bombing range was permanently shut down—an early and important victory for Latvia’s environmental and national awakening. In 1993, a memorial stone was placed at the site, engraved with a powerful plea:
“Forgive us, for we did not know what we were doing.”
This weekend, just before our first day of English Bible camp in Latvia, our team stood in silence on the grounds of Rīteļi Cemetery. The sky above was bright, but the mood was hushed. We weren’t visiting a church or a famous historical site—we were standing in what was once a rural cemetery, now a memorial carved from memory and loss.
What happened here is a story most Americans have never heard. But it’s the kind of story that makes what we’re doing with Spiritual Orphans Network not only meaningful—but essential.
A Cemetery Bombed for Target Practice
In 1953, this region of Latvia was forcibly turned into a military bombing zone by the Soviet Ministry of Defense. Villages were emptied. Families were displaced. Generations of farmers were told to leave their homes. The peaceful Rīteļi Cemetery—where locals had buried their loved ones—was overtaken and used as an aviation target – along with the rest of the Zavrde community. For nearly 40 years, bombs rained down on what was once a prosperous community.
By 1988, Soviet forces went one step further: bulldozers razed the remaining cemetery altogether.
But not all was lost.
In July 1990, as the Soviet grip weakened, a group of Latvians—clergy, believers, and grieving family members—returned. In a public act of repentance and remembrance, they prayed. They mourned. They reclaimed this place with dignity. And by 1993, a simple memorial stone was placed at the site with a haunting inscription, echoing the words of Christ from the cross:
“Piedodiet, ka nezinājām, ko darām.”
“Forgive us, for we did not know what we were doing.” (Luke 23:34)
The Wounds of History—and the Work of Healing
For our American team, this site visit was not on the original tourist map. But it mattered. The people of Latvia are not only proud of their country’s regained independence—they also bear deep wounds from their years under Soviet control. Their churches were hollowed out. Their Bibles were taken. Their cemeteries were bombed. Their culture was silenced. And yet—God preserved a remnant.
And now, through the work of the Spiritual Orphans Network, that remnant is reconnecting with the global family of Christ.
You see, we’re not just here to teach English. We’re here to embody something lost and longed for—the Gospel made visible through community, compassion, and conversation. Many of the children in our camp have grandparents who lived through this oppression. Some of the adults who help us translate remember when churches were monitored or banned. The spiritual orphanhood created by Soviet ideology left generations without faith, hope, or belonging.
This is why our camp matters. This is why we come.
A New Generation, A Living Legacy
On Monday, we begin our week of English Language Bible Camp. Each day, we’ll open the Bible with children and teens who may never have heard these stories before. We’ll sing together, laugh together, play games, and build relationships. But underneath it all, we’re quietly restoring something sacred: trust in God’s Word, curiosity about Jesus, and connection with Christian community.
What was once bulldozed, God is now rebuilding.
And it’s not just about this camp. The Latvian church is rising again—one child, one family, one faith story at a time. Our local partners are brave, faithful, and incredibly grateful for the presence of believers from afar who say, “You are not forgotten. You belong to Christ. You are part of His family.”
Why We Tell These Stories
It might seem strange to begin a week of children’s ministry by visiting a bombed-out cemetery. But in a way, that’s exactly what the Gospel does—it steps into the places the world has destroyed and says, “Here is where life begins again.”
To our donors, thank you. You are part of this story. Because of your support, our team could come. Because of your gifts, children will hear about Jesus this week—in their own language, through loving relationships, and in the joyful noise of games and music and prayer.
To our future partners: if you’ve ever wondered whether a short-term mission trip or a monthly donation makes a difference, stand with us at Rīteļi. Look at a stone that bears Christ’s words of forgiveness. And then look into the eyes of a 10-year-old girl learning to sing about God’s love for the first time.
What we do matters. Not because we’re the heroes—but because Christ is still healing history through His people.
And that includes you.












