When I graduated from Avondale University and became a pastor, I thought it was inevitable that I would be called to the Australian countryside. However, I was sent somewhere far worse: New Zealand!
To be frank, NZ was not on my radar. My wife and I were newlyweds, and the thought of moving countries was scary. We were fortunate enough to land in sunny Tauranga—famed for Mt Maunganui, trendy cafes and a retiree-friendly atmosphere. A pastor friend ended up in Palmerston North, a few hours south. If you’ve never visited Palmy, just know that in 2021, the city received only 152 days of sunlight; more than half of the year is spent under clouds. My wife and I often visited Palmy and while we were there, often jokingly compared the two cities, boasting about the sunshine and beaches of Tauranga while deriding cold, grey Palmy.
I soon changed my tune when just two years later we moved—not to beautiful Hawke’s Bay, hipster Wellington or scenic Taupō—but to cold, grey Palmy. However, something happened to my wife and I that we didn’t expect. We fell in love—and it had nothing to do with the weather. It was in this forgotten corner of NZ that we unexpectedly found beautiful church community and incredible friendships. It was also here that I gained a deeper appreciation for the beauty of simple Christian living. Let me explain.
Let’s face it: we all face pressure from many different sides. We are all tempted at times to “conform to the pattern of this world”, by taking a shortcut, going against our ethics or indulging our baser instincts. It shouldn’t surprise us that this tension has existed for as long as there has been a Christian church. The early Christians living in Thessalonica in the first century faced similar pressures. The apostle Paul’s advice to them seems almost too simple: “Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life” (4:11). The beauty of the quiet life is often lost on us. I admit that as a young pastor, I secretly dreamed of leading a big church, writing bestselling books and appearing on influential podcasts. Numbers too easily impress us, whereas the quiet, humble Christian life is more often overlooked. Cold, grey Palmy taught me the value of the Christian life lived quietly with dignity and beauty. It taught me that true joy in the Christian walk is found in deep, transformational relationship with God and others—not superficial achievement. The mark of a follower of Jesus can only be found in consistent witness. The people who impacted me most were not high-flying executives but parents, teachers and tradesmen who didn’t just put on a good show at church, but in their day-to-day lives fully embraced being a follower of Jesus in a complicated world.
My suspicion is that this story is being repeated every day in every town and city (large or small) across the South Pacific. Not everyone feels called to become a missionary or evangelist, but we all can live a quiet life rooted in faith, hope and love—whether you live in a large city or a small country town. We might be impressed by the visiting evangelist for a moment, but it’s the consistent presence of dedicated Christians living sacrificially that make all the difference in the long run.
If I could encourage you in one thing it would be this: give some recognition to the person in your local church who embodies that quiet Christian life. Thank them for their consistent witness and let them know their example is noticed and appreciated. Embrace it for yourself and encourage those around you to live it, too. Above all, allow your small life to amplify the big God who wants, more than anything else, to allow His power to shine through us to people who desperately need it. As the Māori proverb I referenced in the title declares: “What is the most important thing in the world? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata (It is people, it is people, it is people).”
