It was the summer of 2017 when I boarded a prop plane in Shell, Ecuador . . . heart pounding with equal parts excitement and awe. I was on a journey deep into the Ecuadorian Amazon, where a people and a man whose life had already touched the world, would soon touch mine. Flying over the undulating green canopy of the rainforest, I longed to hear the stories of the Huaorani people and especially greet the man in the photo— Mincaye, the once-feared Huaorani warrior. Decades prior, in 1956, Mincaye had taken part in the spearing deaths of five American missionaries. Though lives were lost, the story of Mincaye was not one of violence; it was one of radical transformation, forgiveness, and peace. His story is still being told today by people throughout the earth. His story is one of God himself.

I had read the books, watched the documentaries, but none of that prepared me for the day I first faced God's redemptive power in the flesh. Standing inside the timber and palm-leaf housing on the bank of the Curaray River, sweat dripping from my forehead, I squinted my eyes to see Mincaye right before me, reclining on a mat at the fire's side.

Aged and strong, he greeted me with a warm smile.

Over the next seven days, I lived as simply as I ever had. The village of the Huaorani people and the home of Mincaye— a scattering of stilted huts under the thick rainforest canopy . . . was alive. Filled with laughter, smoke, and the constant humming of insects, the air was thick and fragrant, and the sound of rain would steadily beat down above us.

Despite being nearly 90 years old, Mincaye moved with a nimbleness that defied his earthly age. When he was not walking around camp, Mincaye was enjoying friends and family in the community housing.

He shared many stories as we walked together, but most of them were shared at the table— memories of his youth when the Huaorani thrived in cycles of violence, revenge, and fear, and memories of the present, as he now was a father figure to his community and surrounded by love. He spoke with a reverent tone about “Waengongi,” God, the Creator, and how the killing of the missionaries had led to an unexpected change in his life and those around him. He marveled at how the families of the American missionaries came back to their village not with revenge, but forgiveness. That forgiveness changed his life.

Being in the jungle with Mincaye for seven days was not long enough, but the impact those seven days had on my life still resounds today. The stories, sounds, faces, and smells will stay with me forever. At the end of our time together, I departed in the same dugout canoe, crafted by the Huaorani people, that we arrived into the jungle on. This goodbye is one that I could not forget. Mincaye stood at the edge of his hut... strong and smiling— a living testament to the power of redemption.

I never saw him again. Mincaye passed away on April 28, 2020. But those seven days in the rainforest of the Ecuadorian Amazon remains clearly etched in my memory— not as a visit to a historic figure, but as a journey into the heart of what forgiveness and community can bring forth.

Though I didn't have the chance to ask Mincaye what name or attribute he would see God as, the name for God in their native tongue was "Waengongi," who he loved deeply. This is why I have chosen to name this story by the Huaorani name of God . . . "Waengongi."