Anyone who knows me knows I love visiting faraway places. Whether it’s been searching for the Ark of the Covenant in Africa, travelling for several days up the Amazon on a boat about the size of a pickup truck, spending these past Christmas holidays sailing through the most pirate-infested waters in the world aboard a cargo ship, making the choice to visit places like Afghanistan, or talking my way into North Korea (twice) – among many, many other adventures – I’ve been fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time in so many different locales and to meet some incredible people (like a group of monks I crashed with last Easter in the Solomon Islands). So when I had the chance recently to visit the South Pacific island nation of Tonga, I leapt at the opportunity. After all, who wouldn’t want to visit a tropical paradise, especially one that is famed for never being too overrun with other tourists?

But it was also Easter weekend, and I knew it was important to go to church, even if I was far from my home in Auckland, New Zealand. As Jesus says in Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.”

So on Easter morning, I asked a woman working at the guesthouse where I was staying where the nearest church might be. To my surprise, she dropped everything she was doing, and together we walked under the tall palm trees swaying slightly in the warm breeze to an old protestant church. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised she was willing to help – more than 99 per cent of Tongans are said to be Christians, after all.

While the old plaster church building with a red roof was as beautiful as any picture on a postcard, what was more beautiful was what I found within. Almost 500 people were packed inside wearing their Sunday best (for both women and men in Tonga, that means a mat wrapped around the waist, called a Ta’ovala, that looks a lot like a skirt); all the dark-coloured wood pews were full. Quickly scanning the faces of the parishioners, it appeared I was the only non-Tongan there.

The pastor must have noticed this, too, for during the service, something incredible happened. While all the songs and speeches were in Tongan (a language that sounds incredibly beautiful, and even more so when it is sung), the spectacled pastor took about 10 minutes to speak in English. He looked right at me the entire time he did so. The message that Easter morning came from Matthew 28:10, he said: “Be not afraid.”

Amid the sticky tropical heat, his words made me reflect not only on my life to that point, but the circumstances of that morning. Here I was, a foreigner in a strange country in one of the most remote parts of the globe, where I didn’t even speak the language. But I was not afraid – because I knew that Christ was with me. He had led me to the church that Easter morning, and I knew He would not lead me astray no matter what my future held.

And that was more beautiful than any scenery ever could be.

After living for several years in Europe, Ben pursued a lifelong dream and moved to New Zealand. An Auckland-based writer, his work has appeared in Business Insider, the Sunday Star-Times, The Press, Villainesse, Idealog, Deutsche Welle, The Local Sweden, and more. He can be found on Twitter @benmack_nz.