The Monday morning of September 19th started out fairly normal except for the fact that it was our first day of doing homeschool with Sophia & Zak. If you told me I’d be in the “dog house” by nightfall, I’d be the first to say, “yah, I probably deserve that”! But a night in jail? – that was definitely not on my radar! Here’s how it all unfolded:

After visiting our local clinic, a young Shuar man knocked on our gate hoping I could help he and his wife get back to their village, Untunkus Norte. She had given birth two weeks prior and was not ready for the two hour trek up hill. For $5, a taxi truck can make it in about 20 minutes, so I called for one, we piled in and I put my bike in the back for the downhill ride home. It was a perfect opportunity to visit with several families who live there, most of them are related to Pastor Eduardo who is an integral part of our ministry team. I enjoyed playing with the kids, checked on Camilo’s new baby boy, shucked some of Umberto’s corn, then had a delicious lunch of cow intestines, corn & yucca prepared by Umberto’s wife, Georgina. We said goodbye then I headed home down the mountain with one short side visit to a neighboring village, San Jose Sur, to pray with a family whose father had just died.
Between the two villages, I rode up on a teenage boy who took one look at me and started running. I didn’t get to say anything to him since he ran off so abruptly. I arrived at Carmela’s house a few minutes later and we had a great 30 minute visit as they shared stories of their father. As I chugged along the beautiful mountain road towards home, I was grinning ear to ear with joy, overwhelmed that I get to be here doing what I’m doing. This peace helped prepare me for what was waiting for me just over the next knoll.

A group of about 20 people gathered in the road/path about 50 yards ahead, machetes are normal to see here, but this time was different. As I approached, it quickly became obvious that I was the subject of their interest. At first I thought they were just upset that I was in Shuar territory so I quickly explained that I was there by invitation of several Shuar who they also knew. That did not matter as it became apparent that a deeper issue was at hand. The teen age boy had run home telling his mother that I had threatened to cut off his head and that I had offered money for heads. This is a line often used to stir up trouble in the jungle because it plays on their long history of fear, superstition, and murderous ways. The boy also had mental issues and I’m sure the adults put him up to much of it. They forced him to stand face to face with me and retell his story. When I heard the phrase, “this Gringo tried to cut my head off”, I knew there was no explaining my way out of it, they were bent on revenge. The boy’s mother was completely wild in my face screaming, “cut off his head, cut off his ears, cut this gringo”! They wanted to see my sword or knife.  Miracle #1 – I always carry a knife but did not this day. I called Ashley on my cell, which happened to have signal (Wouldn’t that make for a great commercial?!) I told her that some people were upset with me and that I needed to get a number of a Shuar pastor who could explain to them who I was. While she was giving me the number someone grabbed the phone as the situation intensified. I never saw the phone again. Miracle #2 – it didn’t disconnect. Ashley & the girls heard the next 23 minutes of the scuffle. She wanted them to listen because they hear Spanish better and she wisely wanted to be able to recall details if something should happen. Using a neighbor’s phone, she was able to call the Marbuts & Hendons, our missionary family here. They were both 7 hours away in Cuenca. Ashley reached Ricky as he was waiting for his wife to come out of surgery. Ricky called everyone he could to alert them that there was a problem on the mountain. As the scuffle spiraled out of control, I had no idea that prayers (other than my own!) were already going up. About half of the shouting was in Shuar & the other in Spanish, but I could only understand a small portion because of the rage, excitement, and multiple machetes being waived in my face as others circled around from behind. It was a constant battle of deciding what to say or not say or just pretend I didn’t understand. I knew I had better not call the boy a liar to his mother’s face. I could only submit to them & completely rely on the providence of God.

One guy with a machete grabbed my money, which was only $11, not near enough to buy a head – thank God! In the midst of this mayhem, Miracle #3 happened to walk up on the scene, it was Tomas, one of Pastor Eduardo’s sons. He made it clear to the mob who I was and that I had permission to be there. They quickly shouted him down, then I began to realize that this was an even deeper problem. Later, I learned that these guys have been threatening Eduardo’s family for years in opposition to their Christian beliefs. They have been trying to tear down the church there that is halfway built.
Although the men had the machetes, the ladies were more fierce as they screamed & gathered sticks to attack. Miracle #4, the first machete blow struck without warning. If I had seen it, instinct would likely have thrown up an arm to block it, but instead, it struck across the base of my neck. No blood no cut, it fell with a slap along the side of the blade. It was on now, no longer just shouting, they were willing to cross that unthinkable line. With no hope in sight, Miracle #5, a nineteen year old with only one eye jumped in to defend me. His name is Andres and with every fiber of his being, he offered his head in place of mine. I later learned that he had attended our summer VBS’s as a kid. They shoved, cursed & pushed him back but his bravery bought me several more minutes. As the taunting escalated further and the mob grew, Miracle #6 walked by, a familiar face!

Although I had never met this man, I recognized his face and called out to him asking if he was from Macuma. A few weeks before, Pastor Eduardo invited me to go with him to Macuma, the area where he grew up which was way across the mountains. We went to retrieve old photos taken by missionaries from the 40’s to 80’s. Some of these photos were of Eduardo’s family, baptisms of the first Shuar christians, shamans, chiefs, and even several pics of Roger Youderin, Nate Saint, and others whose humble work in the Ecuador jungle is now known throughout the world, (rent the movie, “End of the Spear”) In fact, as a young boy, Eduardo witnessed the aftermath of the slain missionaries as he floated down the river with his father who was part of the search party. How bizarre that I have copies of these precious photos on my computer and that one in particular is of a face & name that I remembered although he has been dead for over 30 years. The man passing by was from Macuma and then I asked if he was a descendent of Chiriapu. He gave me a quizzical stare then said, “my name is Chiriapu” as he approached me to talk. The man in the photo was his grandfather! There are no odds that can explain this, solely the Hand of God. Our conversation amidst the chaos again bought me some more time. Time was all I had and each second was more valuable than gold. Chiriapu holds a position of authority in the village of San Jose Sur, so they did not strike me while we talked.

The crowd soon again reached a frenzied state, more joined in, particularly a man with a stone cold glare carrying a machete. He approached and immediately took control. I found out later that his name is Patricio and that he and his brothers are the main instigators of trouble on the mountain. He had been recently voted out as chief which added to his foul mood. After dodging several punches, Patricio snuck around the back of me and delivered the second blow. It was much the same as the first, no blood, but I knew that each strike would embolden others to join in. About this time I did briefly entertain the thought of running into the jungle. This would have incited them even more, plus the jungle is thick, it was their turf, and I’m sure they would have hunted me down in no time. My only option was to continue to submit and trust God no matter the outcome.

The third machete strike was partially deflected by the hand of Miracle person #7, Benjamin, the father of Andres. He holds a position of authority in Untunkus Norte and he bravely opposed Patricio who happens to be his brother in-law! In the days following, I was amazed to learn of details revealing that this conflict is also within families. Miracle #8 rode up on a motorcycle about an hour into it. He was Carmela’s son and he risked persecution by calling the police. I did not know that the police had been called, nor did I know that people across the globe were already praying that I’d make it out of there in one piece. After 1 1/2 hours of constant chaos, three police officers arrived in a pick up truck. I breathed a sigh of relief, but at the time I had no idea that the most intense moments still awaited me… (Click this link, to read the rest of the story.)