Human history is a long crossing
between revolution and resurrection—
an unending struggle for justice
in the name of freedom.
That freedom was the life of our Lord.

Two thousand years ago in the Middle East,
Jesus rose from the grave.
Ten years ago in the Far East, in Korea,
young voices rose in the streets.

It is not merely that both happened in April.
It is that one life—
and many young lives—
were risked for justice.

Revolution and resurrection
are not distant memories;
they are directions—
signposts pointing toward a true future
within the history we now inhabit.

Today, tradition and authority,
doctrine and ritual,
often suffocate the soul.
Structures remain—
ornate, carefully preserved—
yet emptied of life.

Avoiding suffering, refusing sacrifice,
chasing power and expansion,
we build again like Babel—
a time of self-absence.

Before injustice and corruption,
the silence of conscience
and the retreat of courage
reveal a faith misshapen.
We search for the Messiah
and find only a myth
of humanity crowning itself as god.

For too long,
we have sought the Messiah
inside sealed tombs—
filled with fear, darkness,
and the smell of death.

But the tomb was empty.

Resurrection stood
at the center of history.
In an upper room,
one hundred and twenty gathered—
not mourners,
but revolutionaries of the spirit.

They rose against the unchecked self,
against the empire within.
Their struggle was not once for all,
but an unending revolution of being.

Today, in the hearts of the young,
conscience stirs again.
The sound of April returns.

It is the voice of the Messiah—
raising freedom and life
within history itself.

To those already counted among the dead,
he still cries:
“Lazarus, come out.”

At Korea’s decaying tomb,
the stench remains.
Yet the cry of April refuses silence.

Golgotha has been violated—
the cross reduced
to a trinket for sale.

Is this the covenant of suffering
and resurrection?
Is this the testimony of courage?

No.
It is a command.
A way of living.
A path toward life.

This way calls to a nation’s wandering soul.
On this land—
three thousand miles long,
five thousand years deep—
history waits.

There, at the place of encounter,
Korea’s chaos will rise—
shaking heaven and earth,
weeping into freedom,
weeping into peace.

Rise, O sound of April!
Cry of revolution!
Voice of the young soul!

Ah—
the sound of April.

– TaeHun Yoon, April 15, 1972

(Beginning Series – Part 5)