I'm talking about the old-school Christianity that the missionaries brought to the Pacific 200 years ago.
The fire and brimstone Christianity, the one that tells you the father rules and the mum serves the family, the one that helps elevate the King of Tonga to a level white New Zealand will simply never understand, the one that sees Pacific Island churches scattered all over Auckland, Wellington and other high Pacific population areas in the country, the faith that means so much to Sir Michael Jones, Jason Taumalolo, and the thousands of others sprinkled throughout our sports teams, our communities and even our families.
Did you really not see how Samoa and Tonga all kneeled down together to give thanks to the Lord for allowing them to play so ferociously against one another in the Rugby League World Cup last year? Or how many of them gather to pray with one another after a major rugby match?
Everybody respects their demonstration of faith, but it seems that no one wants to acknowledge the reality that comes with that faith, that most of them are believers in an old-world Christianity that they believe has served their nations well, their people and their families, and helps bind them together during the tough times — the dawn raids, the low wages, the job dismissals, the name mangling by sports commentators.
Our Pacific brethren bear it all with a modesty and humility that is positively ... Christian.
Seems it's okay to believe in something as long as we don't ever say it. Yeah, I know.
Sounds dumb, but maybe that's how we can pretend we're all just a little bit closer to God than Israel Folau.
To Izzy — much love to you brother. Keep the faith, and may the trials and tribulations that you and Maria are going through right now help strengthen your love for one another. It may not be the world I subscribe to, but I respect deeply your commitment to your faith and to your world.