There’s something sacred about beginnings.

This morning, as the first wave of Latvian students walked into the classroom—some with nervous smiles, some pretending to be too cool for nerves—I had the quiet sense that we were stepping into holy ground. Not because of the walls around us, or the curriculum in our hands, but because God was already here. Ahead of us. With us. And in these first steps, He was reminding us of what He always does: “Be strong and courageous… for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

Day One of English Language Bible Camp with the Spiritual Orphans Network is in the books. It’s hard to believe it’s only been one day, because already the classroom feels alive with relationships that didn’t exist 24 hours ago. Today wasn’t perfect—few first days ever are—but it was joyful. Joyful in the honest, slightly chaotic, definitely Spirit-filled kind of way.

Each class session used stories from Joshua 1–2 to teach English vocabulary and introduce the theme of courage to follow God’s plan. Our students learned words like home, desert, spy, miracle, and encouraged—words that, in the context of Joshua’s story, became more than language. 

They became invitations. Invitations to consider what it means to trust a God who leads us through unfamiliar places, who gives us strength when the plan ahead feels uncertain, and who uses surprising people—like Rahab—to bring about His purposes.

And let me tell you: the kids were listening.

I saw it in the quiet attentiveness of a boy who usually doesn’t sit still. I saw it in the courage of a girl who dared to speak her first full English sentence aloud. I heard it in the gentle way one child helped another find the right vocabulary card during a game. God was planting seeds—not only of language, but of grace, of dignity, and of hope.

Our English teachers and rotation leaders handled each situation with such care and creativity. They helped students learn through story, song, repetition, and laughter. In the rotations, I watched something beautiful unfold. Over in crafts, tiny fingers tied craft string onto Friendship Bracelets—the sign of her trust in God and a commitment to pursue friendships with one another.  Outside, energy abounded as leaders turned simple games into moments of connection and teamwork. And the music room… well, that was holy chaos in the best way. Songs and clapping filled the air—and I saw kids who started the day withdrawn slowly lean in with smiles by the end of it.

There’s a reason this matters more than just language learning.

We’re here to teach English, yes. But we are also here because of the Gospel. Because our God is the same today as He was in Joshua’s day—a God who calls, who saves, and who walks with His people. He is still raising up leaders like Joshua, still working through unexpected allies like Rahab, and still drawing children and adults alike into His story of rescue. 

It will be interesting to see who God raises up as future leaders in the church in Latvia and beyond.

Latvia has a complex history—marked by Soviet occupation and the kind of generational trauma that isn’t quickly undone. Many of the children we serve come from families where faith is unfamiliar, or fragmented. But that’s why we’re here. We are not just visitors; we are messengers of hope, partners in healing, and brothers and sisters in Christ extending the family of God one relationship at a time.

One of our students asked today, “Why did Rahab help the spies if they were strangers?” It opened a moment to talk about what courage looks like—not only in Rahab’s time, but in ours. Courage to trust, to serve, to follow a God who sees beyond what we can see. And it reminded me that these kids aren’t just learning from us. We’re learning from them too.

So this afteroon, as the team debriefed and shared our favorite moments, I was filled with gratitude. Gratitude for the children’s joy. Gratitude for the grace that covered our fumbles. Gratitude for our team—each person giving their best in the classroom, on the field, in the craft room, at the piano bench. And most of all, gratitude to God, who is doing more than we can see.

Please continue to pray for us. Pray that God would deepen these relationships, that our words (even broken English ones) would point to something eternal, and that each child would know they are seen, loved, and never alone. Give thanks with us—for the laughter, the learning, and the presence of God that fills this place like light through stained glass.

We have only just begun. But if Day One is any indication, it’s going to be a week of miracles.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll all leave a little braver.