Abby’s parents had quickly learned an essential fact while living among the Inisi. The key to a village’s spiritual heart was the village chief. Persuade him to become a Christian, and the villagers would follow. Persuade the chief of an entire subtribe—there were six clans among the Inisi—and the entire clan would follow.

Dressing for the dinner party, Abby felt both the weight and excitement of the door God had opened for her. She’d be meeting some of the most important governmental officials in the United States. Win them to Jesus, and there was no telling how many Americans would follow.

She slipped on the red evening gown and high heels that Sabin had bought her for the occasion. She took a step toward her bedroom door, wobbled, and fell to the floor. How could anyone walk in these shoes? She tried to imagine running through the jungle and chasing a wild pig in them. She started to giggle. It felt good to laugh.

She decided to practice walking before venturing downstairs. Fifteen minutes later she emerged from her room and gingerly navigated the staircase, both hands on the railing.

Sabin was waiting at the bottom, drink in hand. “You look stunning.”

Abby grinned. “You think so?”

The sound of a spoon on a wineglass called the gathering to attention. Lauren lowered the glass. “Welcome, everyone. May I introduce to you my cousin, Abigail Caldwell. Abigail, as you know, joins us after spending her entire thirty-four years with the Inisi tribe in the New Guinea jungle. I invite all of you to take your seats at the dinner table.”

Abby was seated near one end of the table, next to Sabin. Lauren sat at the other end. Abby glanced at Lauren, who was glaring at her.

The guests near Abby wasted no time in peppering her with questions. She felt bombarded but exhilarated as well. She could do this; she could earnestly talk with them about her life and faith. Responding to a question from Colorado Senator Blaine Carlson about the Inisi culture, Abby explained the cycle of war and revenge killings that had characterized the tribe before her family’s arrival and related how that eventually changed.

“Your parents sound like miracle workers,” the senator replied.

“Well…” Abby looked around at her small audience. “I think it was Jesus who was the real miracle worker there.”

Adela Ruiz, partner of the Puerto Rican congressman, leaned forward. “Tell us how Jesus did that.”

Abby turned toward her, surprised but heartened at her interest. “Well, the teaching to forgive comes from Jesus, of course—the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus said if someone takes your shirt, give him your coat also.” She glanced down the table and caught Lauren’s eye once more. Surely she can’t hear us down here.

Rebecca Billups, former secretary of education, spoke. “But didn’t all the religions teach forgiveness?”