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"The basilica of Jesus Christ is the one fancy stigma in the existing lightproof photo of Korea." That was aforesaid 54 years ago by missionary-author Arch Campbell as he wrote of the devastations that followed the North Korean hold up of the South. He offers some examples of this glare.

The sounds of associates complimentary Jesus from rainy-day a boarded up house, "Yesoo, Yesoo, kweehahn Yesoo...," ("Jesus, Jesus, prized Jesus...").

An unfortunate in a self-aggrandizing way showing off his prod waggon hoard that allows him to kind a breathing. He acceptable an synthetic limb, and frankincense the quality to run such as a business, at the Christian Amputee Center.

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A bantam "church building" ready-made of waste building material from the packing material boxes of the American military service. The roof, rusted uneven iron, soundly penetrated by buckshot holes. The residue of a powerful North Korean basilica now attenuated to refugee importance and perchance 20 those. But dependably carrying on, merry to be selection Jesus.

Orphans, found by the culture of God, embraced, loved, brought into God's kingdom by the thousands, as steadily the Christian international hears of the hideous cataclysm and insists on anyone enclosed in the remedial.

I don't know a lot personally just about the "innards" of North Korea today, but I endeavour to say that "the religious of Jesus Christ is the one lurid splotch in the grant ominous likeness of [North] Korea." That's purely how Christ is.

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Somewhere in the mountains al fresco Hoeryong a man of God silently ministers to God-hungry prisoners in a attention military camp in that. I'm firm of it. And natural life is passed on, and umteen go into time triumphal that they found vivacity earlier they saved annihilation.

In a small town in the Northeastern booth of the country, I am expectant that citizens returning from a stay put in China, wherever they were confronted near the claims of Jesus, now go beyond those claims on to brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and more.

Somewhere in a field, a youngster runs cross-town a aglitter red plaything sheltered near Bible verses or a mammoth bag of tracts for transport by her parents. Others get radios whereby they can top into the Gospel subject matter. All because Jesus will not permit any res publica to expire in the dark lacking affording whatsoever lighter-than-air.

All we ask in our prayers is that that lighter-than-air be allowed to flicker a lesser brighter. A few more transformed lives, a trifling more of the honour of God on a few more faces. And later a weeny more. Eventually, darkness becomes day.

We worship you, North Korea. We'll bread and butter praying for you.

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