(One of requirements of TH 501-01, Drew Theological School on September 15, 1982.)

I was born on July 7, 1949, as the second son and the third child in my family. Just two weeks before my first birthday, the Korean War broke out on June 25, 1950, shattering the fragile peace in our homeland. My earliest memories, though shaped by stories shared later, are rooted in the chaos, fear, and resilience that defined that tumultuous time.

As the war erupted, communist forces rapidly advanced into Seoul, forcing my family to flee southward to escape the violence. My father, conscripted by the Korean Army, had no choice but to leave my mother, my older brother (then 13), my sister (11), and me—a baby of just 11 months. With no certainty of his return, my mother shouldered the overwhelming responsibility of protecting her three children while navigating the dangers of war.

Carrying me on her back, she trudged through dusty roads and crowded refugee paths. Amid the chaos, my cries pierced the air as we moved further from the only home we had known. Food was scarce, and safety was uncertain. On my first birthday, instead of a celebration, my mother managed to secure a small piece of Indian millet bread by exchanging her precious golden wedding ring. That bread, eaten with my tiny, frozen hands as she carried me on her back, became a symbol of survival—a testament to her sacrifice and strength.

The Ongoing War and Its Aftermath

Even today, the Korean War has not officially ended. The Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), stretching 155 miles along the 38th parallel, remains a stark reminder of the division between North and South Korea. Decades have passed, but the armistice conference continues, leaving the wounds of war unhealed and the future uncertain.

For my family, life after the war brought new challenges but also new beginnings. Two more siblings were born—my younger sister and brother—who are now 28 and 25 years old, respectively. My older brother, who is 45 years old and a medical doctor in Connecticut, played a crucial role in helping our entire family immigrate to the United States, where we sought new opportunities and a brighter future.

A Mother’s Faith and Transformation

Amid the hardships of war and displacement, my mother’s spiritual journey took a profound turn. She had been a devout shamanist for much of her life, seeking guidance and strength through traditional practices. However, after the war, she experienced a spiritual transformation and converted to Christianity. This new faith gave her hope and resilience as she rebuilt our family’s life in the post-war years. Her faith would later become a guiding light for me as well, shaping my own spiritual path.

A Story of Resilience

My early life was marked by survival, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond of family. Though my first birthday was spent on the road, fleeing from the ravages of war, that moment became a defining chapter in my life’s story—a reminder of the resilience and courage of my mother and the faith that sustained us through the darkest of times.

As I look back on those early years, I am humbled by the sacrifices made by my parents and siblings and inspired by the strength that carried us forward. Their legacy continues to shape who I am today.