Shaken to the Core

Field Note: Shifting to Steadiness - A Field Note from the Faultline

A Shepherd's Field Notes is backwards-looking, forward-facing, and grounded in the now. So let's talk about now.

This isn't a travel blog.

But today...it sort of is.

Over the past ten years, I've spent a good amount of time in the South Pacific. It's a quiet thread running through my story and part of the heartbeat behind The Shepherd Fund—a small, Stateside nonprofit committed to Christian humanitarian projects in under-resourced places.

That's what brought me back to Vanuatu recently. And here's the truth: they have it tough. But don't tell them that.

Vanuatu regularly ranks among the top five countries in the Happy Planet Index. Despite being prone to natural disasters, this Pacific archipelago has a deeply seated joy from a blend of tradition, community, and a spiritual steadiness that is... (seemingly!) in the water.

The Ground Shook—but Their Faith Didn't

A week before Christmas 2024, a 7.3 magnitude earthquake struck near the capital, Port Vila. Less than 24 hours later, a second 5.5 quake hit again. Landslides. Widespread destruction. Vital infrastructure damaged. Homes lost. Fourteen lives gone. Over 80,000 people were affected—right in the middle of what should have been a time of joy.

I knew the facts. But I hadn't been on the ground until now. And to be honest, it was confronting. I was confronted with the damage to spaces I'd walked through for years. Confronted by the shift in the air. But also confronted, in the best way, because of the resilience I encountered.

Sometimes, the biggest shifts aren't in the ground. They are in the soul.

I met with elders who carry settled strength as if it were given out as party favours. I talked with friends who laughed as they pointed out detours and rebuilding zones that could pass as a theme park attraction (if you weren't paying attention!). Heard a few post-church conversations that echoed John Wesley's line: "The best is yet to be." Only… they said it with a Ni-Van accent. And a grin.

My grandmother used to say, "God willing, and the creek don't rise." That sentiment of faith amid uncertainty is baked into the DNA of my South Pacific neighbours. Not as pessimism. But as deep and daily trust.

We all suffer. Tragedy is no respecter of persons or boundary lines.

And we all shake. Some of us on the inside, even when the ground is still.

And when it comes time, we get to choose:

Bitter or better.

I don't want to romanticise suffering or make someone else's strength into a slogan. But standing on the broken, marked ground with my Ni-Van friends, I felt something I rarely do in my fast-moving world:

Stillness.

Confidence.

And joy that didn't ask for a reason.

Remember that old VBS song, "The wise man built his house upon the rock" (Matthew 7)? Well...so do our Ni-Van friends. Really and truly.

I'm always semi-flummoxed that Vanuatu remains almost invisible to many American friends and family. That's tragic, especially considering these islands' significant role in World War II.

But even that history pales in comparison to what we're still missing. The everyday courage of people who face life in a tragedy-prone paradise with grace, laughter, and unshaken faith.

So here's my field note. My field report. I was shaken to the core.

Because they weren't.

If this resonated, feel free to forward it or leave a comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts.