Exodus

That evening Inga decided to take us on a boat ride on the beautiful Daugava River. The evening light shone on the water. We glided under a low arched bridge and past the giant Soviet hangers where the Latvian market now is. Inga wrapped Nathianal up in a blanket as it was getting cool. Jordan and I begin to sing “All in All” with a shimmering orange sun preparing to set beyond us. We spoke very little - processing all we had experienced in Latvia. When Albert and Inga dropped us off at the hotel, I gave Inga my favorite winter toboggan hat with the pom pom on top. She had admired it in a picture some weeks before and I wanted to leave a piece of me in Latvia.

The next morning we packed our bags with sorrow. How could the trip be over so quickly? I was not ready to go home. We had touched something so beautiful and I wished there was a way for me to stay behind for another week or two - or maybe a month! Inga said, “Next time you come for a week - we will do CTO groups every day!” I replied, “I am all yours!” We waited in the lobby with our luggage. When Inga came I showed her a powerpoint of the work of Coda Mountain Academy. We talked further about possibly bringing over a Coda camp, and/or about them starting something with their youth using their people and resources - meeting the needs of their particular culture. 

However, the most important part of that conversation was summarized so beautifully by Jordan. Vine and Branch Connection’s deepest mission is to teach people the importance of abiding in Christ which is the essence of Christianity. In that abiding we can be led by the Holy Spirit and God can do something like Coda or maybe something fresh and new. Something that exactly fits the need of the moment and people in it.

We loaded the car and Inga announced, “We have changed our minds. We are going to my parent’s house before we leave. My father told me that I have to stop telling you “No, we cannot do this. No, we cannot do that. So we are going.” I laughed. Then she said, “But this time, you are doing things MY WAY. You cannot take any pictures. My mother does not like pictures.” I promised I would not touch my camera.

Their house was small, fenced in with beautiful flowers growing along the fence and a vine growing up the house. Her parents are among the 34% in Latvia who live in a house rather than an apartment. We were ushered into the living room which had a large dining room table that took up most of the small living room. The soft couches and chairs barely had room along the walls. Inga’s mother kept bringing out lovely open faced sandwiches with thin slices of white cheese or salami type meats on white and dark bread. There were cucumbers and tomatoes from their garden and lots of fresh dill. Inga’s son, William, was playing worship songs on the piano while we ate. There was such a sweet presence of the Lord in this room where home groups often meet.

When someone asked for information from the internet I said with a little smile, “Inga, may I touch my phone?” She laughed and said yes. The next thing I knew - she asked for my phone and began taking a few pictures and videos for me. We even took a group picture with her mother.

Toward the end of our visit, I felt a strange leading from the Lord to play the song, “Exodus” on the piano. Inga translated as I began to read the words to Inga’s father. Suddenly tears sprung to my eyes and I knew. These words applied to Latvia which has been oppressed by foreigners for most of hundreds of years. They have only been free 33 years from occupation and the threats of invasion are growing. Beneath the room we were in their basement has been recently turned into a bomb shelter. The words also speak to the spiritual land in the hearts of their people Inga and her family and laborers are fighting for. I began to weep as I read.

I sat down at the piano and felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit almost immediately. Jordan videoed from the corner. Albert was deeply moved. When I finished I saw tears running down his cheeks. I went over and we gently hugged. No words.