Korea
Last night I was talking to some students, refugees who have escaped their home country, and one of them showed me a small black book. The cover felt like leather, but there was no writing on it. It was no bigger than 3in X 5in X .5 in. The pages were tissue thin and plain looking, but the print was so small. Our friend told us that it was a Bible from her country.
In her home country, it is illegal to have a Bible. We asked her where it came from, and she told us that a missionary had come to visit a church here and was taking them to people in her home. This man could be killed for his work or, at best, be sent to a place reminiscent of Auschwitz. He is willing to risk that for the sake of the Gospel.
After we saw the Bible, a couple of the girls asked me to teach them some Christian songs. One of them was “Give Thanks.” I wonder if they understand the words, if they know what they’re saying when they sing “Let the weak say I am strong/ Let the poor say I am rich/ Because of what the Lord has done for us.” Most of these students are tiny because they were malnourished in their youth. Yet in their bodily weakness and the pain of their pasts, they show the strength of God in how they face each day with a smile.