– A Faith Epic Woven from the Story of Bishop Yong-Jae Jun

Can you sing of hope?

Not when fields shimmer with harvest,

nor when every table is filled,

but when winter strips the earth bare,

when dust rises like forgotten prayers,

when heaven itself seems silent.

Can you sing then?

I hear a voice.

Not the voice of one person,

but the breathing of generations.

A grandfather sings

from the darkness of a well.

No choir surrounds him.

Only heaven listens.

His hymn rises

through cold stone walls,

through suffering,

through faith that refuses to die.

I hear the oldest aunt.

She waters tomorrow

with tears and sweat.

Before anyone called them miracles,

her prayers had already become flowers.

Then comes the year 1905.

A boy of sixteen

hears the Gospel

through the faithful ministry

of Missionary Sharp.

A single seed

enters one young heart.

It will become

a forest.

He walks through

Gongju Youngmyung School,

Paichai,

Hyupsung Theological Seminary,

gathering

not diplomas,

but living seeds.

In Wonsan,

at Lucy Girls’ School,

he teaches the Word

for twenty-four faithful years.

Young women

carry the Gospel home.

Some become mothers.

Some become teachers.

Some become servants of Christ.

Missionaries come.

Missionaries leave.

Some die of fever.

But the Gospel

never departs.

It simply finds

another faithful hand.

Among his students

walks Chae Yong-shin,

whose life would later bloom

through Evergreen Tree.

Among his companions

stands Cho Byung-ok,

who would help shape

a newborn nation.

Then this son rises—

Pastor Hee-Gyun Jun.

Liberation comes.

Joy is brief.

Soon,

the Korean War

splits one people

against themselves.

Behind the walls

of Seodaejeon Prison,

one hundred three believers

are driven away

by retreating North Korean soldiers.

Gunfire.

Silence.

Bodies disappear

beneath dark water.

But martyrdom

never writes

the final sentence.

The blood remembers.

The Church remembers.

The Holy Spirit remembers.

Life begins again.

Thirty-three grandchildren

grow from one faithful root.

Twelve become pastors.

Two become pastors’ wives.

Among them

stands the eldest daughter,

Jin Jun,

who offers her life

to the Korean Monastic Movement.

Stone by stone,

prayer by prayer,

she builds a monastery,

not merely with bricks,

but with silence,

hospitality,

and unceasing prayer.

As a young woman

she breathes faith

in Wonsan Namchon Church.

She listens

to the revival preaching

of Pastor Jae-Hun Yoo.

Each sermon

falls like burning coals

upon her waiting heart.

Again,

history demands surrender.

Bow.

Compromise.

Forget.

But faith chooses

another road.

Leaving.

Walking.

Trusting.

Exile.

Return.

Church.

Monastery.

Refugees.

Fields reclaimed

by weary hands.

Morning prayers

rising like mist in the nation

from mountain valleys.

The fire continues.

Another grandson,

First pastor out of thirty three grands

Yong-Jae Jun,

inherits

not privilege,

but holy responsibility.

The years gather quietly.

Then,

the fire burns again.

In 1986,

a house church.

Kneeling prayer.

In 1992,

upon the wild grasses

of Seopan-gyo,

another beginning.

Later,

Dongpan-gyo.

New sanctuaries rise,

not first from concrete,

but from hearts

set ablaze

by the Holy Spirit.

The flame

passes

from one generation

to another.

Then comes

July 2013.

The Methodist Church

calls for a captain.

Yong-Jae Jun

accepts

not an honor,

but a cross.

“I will offer my whole life,

that God may look upon

the Church

with delight.”

An elder, Sung-Do Kim, blesses him:

“Be the captain.

Let truth

be your compass.

Read the times

with wisdom.

See farther

than your own generation.

Guard relationships.

Bridge the Church

and the world.

Serve faithfully.

Then

God will perform

His miracles.”

O Korea.

O America.

O every nation

still searching

for hope—

Do you hear?

This is not merely

the story

of one family.

It is the story

of faith

walking across generations.

The grandfather’s hymn.

The mother’s tears.

The martyr’s blood.

The monastery’s silence.

The refugee’s prayer.

The pastor’s knees.

The bishop’s willing heart.

Together

they become

one everlasting song.

And the song

still asks us—

Can you sing of hope?

Not after victory.

Not after peace.

Not after certainty.

But now—

while history still bleeds,

while the road

remains unfinished,

while Christ

still walks quietly

among ordinary people.

Yes.

We will sing.

Because hope

is born

where faith kneels.

Where love

refuses to surrender.

Where one generation

places the living fire

into the hands

of the next.

Listen.

The hymn still rises

from the well,

from the prison,

from the monastery,

from the refugee road,

from the mountain chapel,

from the crowded city,

from every faithful heart.

Its melody

crosses oceans.

Its light

crosses generations.

Its name

is Christ.

And therefore,

we sing hope.

For our history

has always been—

and shall remain—

a song of hope.

— TaeHun Yoon, July 6, 2026

Note: Rev. Jun Yong‑jae, bishop of the Central Conference, was elected as the president of the Korean Methodist Church (KMC) bishop’s council at the 30th General Assembly on July 8, 2013. He led the normalization of the denomination, which had been in a state of dysfunction for five years.