Jesus is ‘Pure Aloha’

My wife and I recently visited the Big Island of Hawaii. The island is often divided between Kona, the drier, more bustling West side, and Hilo, the wetter, more bucolic East side. True to its depiction, upon arrival to Hilo, we were greeted by a downpour. A small rainforest bordered our rental property. We fell asleep that night to the croaking of frogs and the patter of rain amidst fern groves and mutant philodendrons.  

The next day, Sunday, we had a road trip planned along the Southeastern coast of the island. However, the rain still hadn’t let up. Knowing the erratic nature of the Hilo weather, and having a limited number of days to explore the island, we packed our ponchos and drove over an hour south to Kehena, a black sand beach which would serve as the starting point to our coastal drive. However, with the rain pelting our rented minivan, our hopes of enjoying the rugged beauty of the Big Island’s Eastern coast was quickly dissolving.

When we arrived at the gravel parking lot for the beach, it was still pouring. A few houses sprinkled the forest along with several juice and bread stands and an open-air community center. We turned around in the parking lot, and sat idling there, deciding what to do. We didn’t want to hike in the rain. But in Hilo, the rain comes and goes, so we sat there debating. Maybe the rain would let up. Or maybe not. Suddenly, Lisa said, “Do you hear that?” I did. It was music. Faint acoustic music. And singing.

It was worship music.

However, we couldn’t immediately identify where this worship music was coming from. We checked the car radio. Then our cell phones. Nope. Nothing was streaming on our devices. Finally, Lisa opened her window. Amidst the pattering rain, we could now clearly hear the sound of worship music, and voices, somewhere nearby. I backed the car up. That’s when we noticed a couple dozen people sitting under the open-air structure with their hands raised in worship. Apparently, it was some sort of church service.

Lisa turned to me and said, “You wanna go?” I said, “Sure.” So I parked the car and we hurried through the rain.

Several dogs greeted us. Elderly women in colorful dresses, flower leis, and flip-flops fanned themselves with palm fronds. A disheveled man with long hair and a wandering eye smiled as we approached. Tins of food were heating on several picnic tables. Three young women stood on the stage. One played an acoustic guitar. Another, a ukulele. They were singing Brandon Lake’s song, “Gratitude.” The lyrics go like this:

All my words fall short
I got nothing new
How could I express
All my gratitude?

I could sing these songs
As I often do
But every song must end
And You never do

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah
Hallelujah
And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah
Hallelujah

Rain pattered the banana leaves behind us, keeping time to the rhythm. I stood next to my wife worshiping God in a tropical rainforest amongst strangers.

The moment was quite humbling, quite special.

After several more songs, the pastor, an older Hawaiian gentleman, took the pulpit. Apparently, he’d recently started teaching through the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he read, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The pastor proceeded to talk about humility and spiritual poverty. We are blessed, he said, when we realize we are spiritually destitute. We need God. We can’t do life on our own. But this requires that we humble ourselves. Admit our frailty and sin. Jesus will not force Himself upon us. He is not a bully. Then the pastor said this,

“Jesus is pure aloha.”

This brought a big smile to my face. Not just because it was a cute, memorable saying, but because it was loaded with meaning. You see, the term aloha is a common phrase among Hawaiians. It is a term of greeting, as well as an expression of kindness or affection. But there’s much bigger cultural significance to the idea of “aloha.” Some note that the term “represents a profound spiritual philosophy encompassing love, compassion, and mutual respect. At its core, aloha describes a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions. As defined by Native Hawaiian tradition, aloha embodies a comprehensive worldview that guides human behavior and relationships.” 

“Aloha describes a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions.”

The term ‘aloha’ has roots that date back to the end of the 18th century in Hawaii. Etymologically, the term is derived from “the Proto-Polynesian word qarofa, which means ‘love, pity, or compassion.'” While the term ‘aloha’ was not developed with biblical or ‘Christian’ intent, it nevertheless intersects with deeper spiritual meaning consistent with Christianity.

Many non-Christian and/or pagan cultures have myths, customs, and traditions which reflect deeper Universal Truths. In his book Eternity in Their Hearts, anthropologist Don Richardson asserts that God has given prior witness of Himself to all peoples — even pagan peoples. Because of this, primitive myths, legends, and traditions often pre-figure and foreshadow the Gospel. Richardson goes on to highlight stories and prophecies from numerous cultures — Burmese, Chinese, Incan, African, even North American Indian — that reflect biblical concepts. The concepts of One True God, a universal Fall, Heaven, Hell, a Sacrificial Lamb and a sacred Book, have existed for centuries in hundreds of cultures… even cultures with no previous knowledge of the Gospel.

The term ‘aloha’ is another example of how God’s love and truth intersects so many cultures. Aloha reflects the biblical concept of grace, blessing, love, and mercy. It “embodies a comprehensive worldview that guides human behavior and relationships” and represents “a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions.” To say that ‘Jesus is pure aloha’ is to recognize that Christ is the perfect embodiment of the spirit of grace and goodness that the term represents. 

Uncoincidentally, as that service ended, the clouds broke and the rain stopped. The parishioners prepared lunch and invited everyone to share a meal together. We sampled some of their homemade macaroni salad before leaving a donation, thanking the pastor, and heading off to sight-see the Southeastern coast of Hilo. We hadn’t planned on going to church that Sunday. But God had other plans. It was one of the most memorable worship services I’ve been to in a long time. And it left me with a phrase I will likely never forget.

“Jesus is pure aloha.”