“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12
Sometimes a glimmer is all we’ll ever see if we choose.
It was early summer 2012 when I saw the dark, distant glimmer of that country for the first time. Back then, it still seemed far away beyond the buffer zone, and not very spectacular to me, as I swiveled the observatory’s binoculars from left to right across the peaceful landscape that bordered both countries: Trees. Trees. Trees. Fourth tallest flagpole in the world. Field. Trees. Repeat.
The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, a.k.a. North Korea, would remain a glimmer and a far-off spectacle to me until I started understanding the reality of what was truly going on inside. Atrocities to humanity, from thousands starving, dying a slow, painful death to public executions conducted without a moment’s hesitation, and actively operating political prison camps holding captive those deemed “hostile” to the regime (here the criminals may include those found carrying and attempting to spread Bibles to family or neighbors) have stamped the base fabric of this country. Simultaneously, lives beyond count, have been stamped on and out along with it.
When I first came to South Korea as an English teacher, I lived life for the day-by-day gratifying experiences. I lived for the weekend. I dreaded Monday, rolled my eyes at Tuesday, wallowed on Wednesday, hoped on Thursday, and did a happy dance on Friday. I traveled often and was hazily satisfied, the way you’re satisfied after doing a bajillion different things all at once, and never really remembering where or why you did them. Yet my future had question marks smothering it, as all I chose to see was myself clearly and others—the ones who deserved much more than a second glance—through “a glass, darkly.” What is clear is that there is present evil and darkness in that country, evidenced by many refugees’ testimonies boldly told to listening ears in the international community. Hyeonseo Lee’s story about her family’s escape was among the first that broke my heart for the North Koreans.
Closest to my heart are the street orphans known as kotjebi, who have no parents (either by abandonment or because their own parents starved to death), no permanent homes, and no steady sources of food. They wander roads and marketplaces, searching for a scrap or stealing when nothing is found. This goes on until they are caught or they can no longer wander. Then someone comes to take their limp bodies from the street, carting them away so the illusion of a perfect country, whose children were unquestionably secured under the loving care of of an eternal president, even in death, would be prolonged. Glimmers seem to shine brightest in the face of utter darkness.
It would take an awakening by God for me to understand that I was meant to live my life for something much greater than my needs and desires. If there are two things I’m expert at, it’s walking long distances and masking that selfishness with sweetness. It was high time for me to give up one of these. Time to grow up and open my eyes wide to the world at stake around me.
What I discovered a couple of years later was that my purpose was in the works of being revealed, one that required stopping, staying, doing my “mission” here in South Korea as an English teacher and then waiting for a bit more to realize that my whole life meaning comes first from my relationship with God. Without Him, there’s no point or purpose to direct my life and energy toward. North Koreans have become a cherished part of my life, and even as I move back to America next month and prepare to launch my mission trip in January, I’ll keep them as close to my heart as ever. I may not understand fully their hurts, losses, and struggles that continue even in freedom; but when I see the hurts, losses, and struggles experienced by the people I encounter next year, I will be reminded that my life mission begins right here and now, not after the trip.
Would you help me take a step forward in my mission through your support? To begin the World Race fully funded in January 2016, I need your help to raise almost $18,000.
I could only give you a dim glimpse into my mission and why I intend to do all of this, but if you are willing, I believe your generous kindness will inspire a hope-filled future for everyone involved—you, the people and communities we serve, my teammates, myself, and everyone who hears this—even through this glass, darkly. While North Korea is not on the list of 11 countries I’ll be visiting per se, I expect to encounter a glorious reflection of God’s love and beauty in each man, woman, and child, from Indonesia to Morocco and every country and heart in between.
Though our life callings and even our beliefs about purpose and meaning may differ, I thank you for your faith in me. I intend to fully devote myself to caring for the needs of the people we share hope and life with, and I know I’ll be absolutely changed for the better through every challenging step we take with each border crossed. God bless you many times over!
