We moved to Samoa (from New Zealand).

For most of you, this will be the first time hearing that.

It’s something we’ve desired for a long time, but we didn't know the timing.

Both of our Grandparents migrated from Samoa 60 years ago.

We've always wanted to learn, experience, and understand more about the Fa'asamoa way of life.

Then last year in December, I received a Matai chief title.

That was a significant moment for us. It also came with some unexpected (ugly) reactions from Christians, which I unpacked in a previous blog here.

But through all of it, one thing became clearer:

Peace.

Not pressure. Not striving. Just a steady sense that this was the direction we were to walk in next.

Things began to move.

Quickly.

And honestly, more simply than expected.

We booked oneway flights before we even knew where we were going to live.

That raised a few eyebrows.

“Who books tickets without knowing where they’re going to stay?”

Fair question.

But when you’ve learned to live from God’s goodness—not just believe in it—you stop needing everything mapped out before taking a step.

You just walk with Him.

One step at a time.

One of the more unexpected confirmations came from a complete stranger on YouTube, who randomly shared this comment on January 2 2026:

My wife Tash had actually seen the comment 2 weeks before I did. And we hadn't told anybody about our plans yet.

What this stranger may not know, is that it is common to see people walking around with a machete in Samoa, because it is a main tool used for harvesting the plantation and cutting lawns.

Tash and I knew exactly what this vision was partly referring to.

It was simple, but it carried weight.

And it was quiet reminder:

You don’t need full visibility when you’re walking with the One who does.

Even our two older kids had dreams and visions from Jesus.

One morning, my boy randomly said: "Jesus told me He has a house for us."

Two days later—and within a month of booking flights—we had secured a fully furnished rental house.

Everything looked set.

Smooth. Simple. Done.

But what actually unfolded when we landed was very different.

The idea was to make the transition as simple as possible.

Fly in. Get to the property. Relax. Settle into new life in Samoa.

Not always easy to do from a different country.

So we had local friends view the property in-person for us. We had careful conversations with the landlords. And we went back and forth with them until the contract and agreement terms were right.

So far so good.

And then we said our "see you soon's" to our family—one of the most difficult parts of the process, especially because we are such a tight-knit family on both sides.

We've never been apart like this before.

Here's a quick 2 min clip.

When we arrived in Samoa on Sunday, the property was in a terrible state—messy, non-working appliances, and hazard spots for the kids.

We took photos of everything right away.

We texted and emailed the landlord (for a paper trail) and said they needed to sort it all ASAP—especially as we had paid the bond and one month of rent well in advance.

We had no response that day.

Monday morning—our first night in Samoa—we are woken up by a 6.1 earthquake.

It was the longest and strongest shake I’ve ever felt—and Wellington NZ is notorious for its shakes, lol.

In 2009, Samoa had a deadly tsunami that followed an 8.1 earthquake. So naturally, you prepare and check for alerts.

Thankfully, there were no tsunami warnings or damage from the shake.

Monday evening, we finally get a response from the landlords. We ask them to come at 9am the next day (Tuesday).

We then have a power cut. Pitch black. Fun times (not really).

Come 9am Tuesday, no show from the landlords.

They message 10 minutes later and ask to meet at 12pm. We ask them to come at 4:30pm because we want to take the kids out for the day.

Come 4:30pm, the landlord wife arrives. She seems anxious, nervous, overtalking, and cutting us off mid-sentence.

We lay out all the issues, explain the disruption it’s caused, and request things be corrected ASAP, otherwise we would need to terminate the contract.

She agreed.

As she is about to leave, three trucks come blasting down the driveway, doors fly open, and two men with skeleton masks jump out of one truck.

My first thought: “This is a gang.”

Six more men (without masks) follow from the other two trucks.

They start yelling, “Police, search warrant.”

They raided the house.

Turns out the landlord husband is a suspected P dealer.

It rattled us. Definitely wasn’t expected. And it was intimidating for the kids.

The police questioned us—one was particularly forceful with me.

They demanded to see our passports, tickets, proof of ownership of the car, etc.

It was good that the landlord wife was there at that time, as she was the first person they approached, and she was able to say this was her house.

Otherwise, I likely would have been handled more aggressively.

Thankfully, we were able to prove we had just arrived in the country.

We were cleared, but we were told to evacuate.

So we had to pack everything up there and then, especially for safety.

Thankfully, our friends who helped with viewing the house in-person, arrived at the same time as the police. We had already arranged to catch up then and to borrow their ladder.

They jumped in straight away—helped us pack everything up, transported us, and stored all our luggage at their place until we could secure something else.

They also reached out to one of Tash’s cousins, who came through with his big truck and helped us evacuate quickly and smoothly.

Honestly, we would’ve been lost if we were on our own.

At that point, we only told our parents, Tash’s aunty, and my friend Ollie because of their connections here in Samoa, to see if they could help us find a place to evacuate to.

We also reached out to our home gathering family.

They know how we roll in these moments.

They prayed and spoke life to us in the middle of the “storm.”

They understand the importance of approaching these kinds of situations from a “higher place,” and how to respond from faith (trust), not react from fear (striving).

Ollie (who’s back in New Zealand) called his Salvation Army colleagues here in Samoa and was able to line things up quickly.

He set up a meeting for me the next day (Wednesday) to meet with the Salvation Army team.

That Tuesday night, we ended up booking a hotel in Apia to stay in.

The next day (Wednesday), I go to the Salvation Army headquarters to meet with Ollie’s colleagues.

They were so good to us and said they would help with whatever we needed. It was a real comfort after all the shaking, power cut, and police raid—let alone having just moved to a different country.

They offered to house us within their private compound for as long or short as we needed.

I’m humbled.

We arrange to view the house with them the next day (Thursday).

Thursday morning, we all head over to view the house.

The kids loved it instantly—especially Lilliana because the outside is pink.

Fully furnished. Quality furnishings. Safe and secure. Lower rent and costs. And a better location for us as a new family in Samoa.

There’s a big supermarket less than a minute down the road with all the necessities (NZ food, lol), plus lots of local shops nearby—barber, laundromat, house needs, Western Union, ATM, food.

Importantly, the kids wanted to live here.

Was this the house Jesus was referring to when He told my boy that He had a house for us? It definitely feels like it.

We moved in a week ago today—4 days after landing in Samoa.

We had the best sleep that night. We could finally settle and just be.

The kids are happy and safe.

The hotel (and pool) helped lighten the mood for them in between.

And this new home is a massive blessing.

We are thankful.

Not the ideal start to our journey in Samoa, but it’s all worked out for the better.

In some ways, the police “rescued” us.

If the landlord had owed anybody money, and those people turned up to the house angry, who knows what could have happened.

P is a big issue here in Samoa at the moment, and they’re cracking down on it hard.

We were simply caught in the firing line, yet we were still protected and provided for.

God is only good.

And we’re thankful and excited for what’s ahead.

Samoa is beautiful—even with some of the challenges—and we’re loving our time here.

Samoa is already teaching us to slow down.

We’re enjoying the simple things like playing outside—the epic weather helps!

And we are more appreciative of the basics.

It’s crazy how much excess we’ve lived with all these years—and I’m realizing just how much of a trap “hustle culture” really is.

We're unsure how long we'll be here.

Unexpected doors in some key areas in Samoa have already opened up for us, and we want to steward them well for as long as it requires.

Every day, we are feeling more and more settled, and more and more excited for what’s ahead.

When I talk about rest and the light & easy yoke of Jesus, it’s often misunderstood.

Some assume I’m saying life becomes trouble-free and never difficult, and then proceed to scold me for something I've never said.

Religious, fear-based lenses will do that.

Trouble-free hasn’t been our experience, and we've been very open about our difficulties.

This life update is another clear example.

We’ve had disruption, uncertainty, and moments that could have gone very differently.

Yet through all of it, there has been peace. Clarity. Provision.

Not because everything was smooth—but because we weren’t carrying it alone.

Rest doesn’t mean the absence of difficulty. It's the ability to overcome it with Him.

Rest is not apathetic. It's authority without anxiety.

His yoke is light not because life has no weight, but because He carries it with you.

And that’s the rest I share.

We’re not talking about this from the outside. We’re living it.

The real struggle people have in their faith isn't with God or a lack of faith or sincerity.

They struggle because of the lens they have—a lens we often don't even realize we're wearing.

This lens trains us to relate to God through pressure, performance, and needing to get it right.

And that lens will exhaust you, even when you’re trying to do better.

But when you deal to the lens, everything changes.

You stop striving for peace and start living from it.

You stop trying to figure everything out and start walking with Him through it.

You stop carrying life alone and start experiencing what it means to be held.

Not more effort. Not more pressure.

Simply learning how to actually walk with Him in the middle of real life—in the unknown, the disruption, and moments just like I've shared.

I unpack this "lens issue" more on YouTube here.

There's a lot more context and details that I've left out of this blog, to keep it as simple and concise as possible for now.

I may expand later.

But if there’s one thing this whole experience has reinforced, it’s this:

Peace doesn’t come from having everything in place. It comes from knowing the One you’re walking with.

Even when things don’t go to plan, you’re not left alone in it.

And sometimes what looks like disruption, is actually protection.

We’re settled now.

Grateful.

And expectant for what’s ahead.

Our Good Father makes all things work for our good, and only has good plans and outcomes for us.

Rest is not "too good to be true." It's a reality that the Person of Truth, Jesus, is always inviting us to live from.

It's what He always intended.

"Shalom. Peace be with you, wherever you go."