Not Forgotten

by Kenneth Bae

  Then a team of Navy Seals would crash through the window of my room in Villa Three, guns drawn. One would rush over to me.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Bae?” he would ask.

  “I am now,” I would reply.

  “With the order of the president of the United States, we are here to get you home, sir.” The Marines would then lead me to the shore, and we would get on the boat and paddle out to a nearby submarine.

  I am going home. Thank you, President Obama, for rescuing me.

  Standing in the corner facing the wall, with this movie playing in my head, I smiled. Mr. Park came over to me. “Why are you smiling? Stop it. You are being punished!”

  His words snapped me back to reality, but I couldn’t help but wonder if my dream was going to come true. I hoped it would, and soon.

  THREE

  STANDING AT HIS FEET

  “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the LORD.

  —JEREMIAH 1:8

  I KNEW BEYOND a shadow of a doubt God had called me to North Korea. Seven years ago, while I was living in Kona, Hawaii, I went to Dalian, China, with a YWAM group as a way of dipping my toe into the water of mission work. In my spirit I sensed God renewing the call I felt the summer after high school, a call I had lost sight of when life got in the way.

  In November 2005 I traveled from Dalian to Dandong to meet a missionary whom I knew through a mutual friend. I wanted to see the work he was doing. While I was there, I met a North Korean woman who had crossed over to Dandong on a visitor visa a month before. During her first week in China, she met my missionary friend, who told her about Jesus. She immediately gave her life to Christ. When I met her she’d been a Christian for all of three weeks.

  After I heard her story, I was so moved that I asked her how I could pray for her. “No, no, no,” she said, “don’t pray for me. I already have Jesus. Pray for the people of North Korea. They need to know the real God.”

  Her words blew me away. She had come to China to try to make a little money because her family had nothing, but now that she had Jesus, she was telling me he was all she really needed.

  My missionary friend then introduced me to another North Korean, who was also in China on a visitor visa. This man, who was in his midfifties, had two children and a wife on the other side of the Yalu River. He, too, came over to China in search of work, but he had not been able to find a job due to health problems. Like the first woman, he first heard about Jesus from my missionary friend, and he didn’t waste any time giving his life to Christ.

  I asked the man how he now felt about being a Christian. “I did not have hope before, but now I have a hope to live for and a hope to look forward to,” he told me.

  I sat in awe of this man. His wife and children had no food. He suffered from all sorts of physical problems. But now that he had Jesus, he had hope, something he’d never had before.

  These stories were still spinning around in my head when my missionary friend asked if I wanted to go see North Korea up close. Of course I said yes. “You can get within ten feet of the border,” he explained. “You can also take a boat that goes across the Yalu River and touches the North Korean shore. If you don’t get out of the boat, you are still officially in China, and you should be safe.”

  He didn’t have to say anything more. I needed to go. I needed to see the country where my family had lived.

  The next day, after the sun had gone down, I joined a handful of people and stood in the very front of a boat as we crossed a narrow creek, only about fifteen yards wide, that feeds into the Yalu. The Chinese pilot motored along the shore for about ten minutes before pushing the bow of the boat up on the land in North Korea. The pilot then called in Chinese, “Come on out.”

  Out of the darkness came a very young, very thin, and very tall (at least for Korea) DPRK soldier. As he came into the light of the boat, I could see a machine gun pointed right at us.

  “Hi,” I said in Korean, trying to remain calm—or at least as calm as you can be when you are staring down the barrel of a gun.

  “Do you have any money?” the soldier asked.

  Common sense says that if a man with a machine gun pointed at you asks for money, you give him some money. But I said, “No. I’m sorry. We didn’t bring any money for you.”

  “Do you have any cigarettes?”

  “No. We don’t have any cigarettes,” I said. “But we brought this for you.” I handed him a sack. “There’s some bread and some food, including an apple and beef jerky from the US. There are also some soft drinks.” Little bribes like this are what makes it possible for the boat to land on the shore of North Korea.

  He grabbed the sack and said, “Thank you.” After taking a quick peek inside, he disappeared back into the darkness.

  As I watched the soldier go, the Lord spoke to me. What he needs is not money. It is not cigarettes. He needs Jesus, the only way, the truth, and the life. No one turns to the kingdom of God except through him.

  I answered God right then and there. Lord, if you want to use me as the bridge connecting North Korea to the outside world, use me. Lord, here I am.

  I did not know it at the time, but the soldier could have arrested me right then and dragged me and everyone else on the boat off to prison. When my friends back in Dalian learned what I had done, they were very angry with me. “Why did you do that? You risked your life for what?!” they said. But I knew God had spoken to me on that boat.

  Here I am. Use me as a bridge for North Korea to the world, I prayed.

  Five years passed before I entered North Korea again—legally this time. I started a tour company, Nations Tours, and since March 2011 the company had taken three hundred people into North Korea over the course of twenty-three trips. I wanted everyone we took into the country to have the same experience I had on my first visit.

  God had not forgotten North Korea. The new Christians I had met in Dandong in 2005 showed me how hungry North Koreans were for the truth. I wanted those I brought to North Korea to see the people and see their need for Jesus.

  Now I was deeper into North Korea than I ever imagined possible, surrounded by government agents and high-ranking officials. Some of the most important men in the entire city had been here in my room. And all I got to do was stand in the corner like a naughty little boy.

  During my first full day in captivity, I stood in this corner for hours. I stared at the blank wall until the light from outside my window faded into black. I knew the sun went down around six o’clock. Once it was dark outside, one of the guards brought me dinner. I sat down at the desk and ate my six or seven spoonfuls of rice and wilted vegetables and something I thought was a little piece of meat or pork fat. Then it was back to the corner.

  I heard the television come on in the other room. In Rason, North Korea’s one and only central television station broadcasts only in the evenings during the week. Hours later I heard the DPRK national anthem playing from the television, which meant the broadcasts were done for the day. From my previous trips into the country, I knew it was now ten thirty. I kept standing.

  Finally I was allowed to go to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but I knew it was late. I had probably stood in the corner for at least six hours. One guard slept on one of the beds across from me, while the other stood watch. A guard cannot keep watch in the dark, so that meant a light stayed on at all hours.

  I had trouble going to sleep. It felt as though I had just drifted off when a guard woke me: “Get up. The investigator will be here soon. You must get ready.”

  I dragged myself out of bed and took another bucket shower.

  This was my second full day of detainment, my second full day of interrogation. Mr. Park had seemed none too pleased with my answers the day before. I dreaded what he might do today. But, rather
than panic, a peace came over me. I recalled Matthew 10:19–20, which says, “But when they arrest you, do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say, for it will not be you speaking, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.”

  A guard brought in a meager breakfast, and it didn’t take me long to eat it. I was nearly as hungry after breakfast as I was before. But then I remembered Jesus’ words when he was tempted in the wilderness: “Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). Never had these words seemed so true. From that point on, during my entire month in Rason I was seldom hungry or tired. I had a food they didn’t know about—Jesus!

  At around eight thirty—I guessed based on how long the sun had been up—Mr. Park arrived.

  “Okay,” he said, “I did not expect you to tell the truth, so I guess I should not be surprised at the lies you wrote yesterday. Today I give you another chance.” He slid more paper over to me along with a new pen. “I need you to tell me your background. Give me the names of all your uncles and aunts and cousins in Korea. Where are they, and what are they doing now? And I need the names of your grandparents who you said left our great nation during the Korean War.”

  “I will do my best,” I said.

  Mr. Park left, and I started writing. I knew God was going to give me the words I needed, but, for the life of me, I could not remember things I should have known. I forgot the names of my aunts and uncles who still lived in South Korea. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the lack of food or the stress. Or maybe God just kept me from remembering. Whatever the reason, I knew even before I finished how Mr. Park was going to respond to my latest essay.

  I held up my hand, and Mr. Park returned to collect what I had written.

  “Stay in that chair,” he said. “Do not get up. You have more to write.” He gave me still more paper. “You grew up in Namchosun,” he said, using the North Korean name for South Korea. “What were you taught in your schools about our great nation? I have talked to many people about you. All say you are a very respectable businessman. That is why we have treated you so well. But something must have made you do this terrible act.”

  Once more, he left me alone to complete his latest assignment.

  I wrote: “I was taught North Korea attacked the south in 1950 and that it remains hostile toward South Korea today. When I lived in Seoul I learned the DPRK continues to carry out terrorist acts against us, including blowing up a commercial airplane and sinking ships. Everyone in South Korea is convinced North Korea still wants to conquer the entire peninsula.”

  I then wrote about the event that had forever broken my heart for the North Korean people: a severe famine that had hit the DPRK from 1997 to 2002. According to the reports I saw in both the United States and South Korea, more than three million people had starved to death. I did not go into detail, but hearing about the famine had made me very, very upset. I did not understand how any government could do this to its own people. It confirmed every negative thing I had ever heard about the DPRK. Its government not only allowed its people to starve, but it also executed anyone who tried to escape the country. I have seen photographs of dead bodies, of both adults and children, floating in the Yalu River—people who were shot while trying to cross to China.

  When Mr. Park read my latest essay, he grew very angry. “These are all lies! We did not attack anyone. We are a peaceful nation. All we’ve ever wanted is to be left alone. But the United States and Namchosun attacked us. President Kim Il Sung delivered us from the Americans. As for the famine, that is more lies. Yes, people died, but we are not to blame. All fault lies with the Americans.”

  He fumed with anger and stared at me with a disgusted look on his face.

  “Get up. You are to stand there without moving!” he yelled, pointing to a spot in the middle of the room. “Your lies today are worse than your lies yesterday! Stand there and do not move until you are ready to tell us the truth! You are a liar! How dare you insult our nation with such a lie.”

  I told him that I did not come up with these stories; I was taught them in school and through Western media.

  He did not want to listen. “Get up and stand still!”

  I stood where he told me to stand. Apparently, simply standing in the corner was not punishment enough. They thought forcing me to stand in one spot without moving a muscle would wear me down physically. It did not. No matter how long I stood in one place, my feet never hurt and my back did not ache. I could have stood there forever, if I had to.

  Two revelations came to me. The first was that I was going to lose a lot of weight before this was all over. My family had been after me to get in shape for a long time. I thought, I am glad I did not listen. Thank God for that extra fifty pounds I’ve been carrying around. I think it will get me through the winter.

  My second revelation was that I would leave North Korea with a great story to tell. I remembered Luke 8:39, which says, “Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” I’m going to get to do just that! I thought.

  Over the previous six years I had watched God do one amazing thing after another. I wanted to write down those stories to tell the world about God’s faithfulness. But now, standing perfectly still, feeling no fatigue, I knew God was giving me an even greater story to tell. I thought of his words to Joshua right before he led the Israelite army into Jericho: “Stand up! What are you doing down on your face?” (Joshua 7:10). That’s what I was now doing—standing up for the Lord. But I wasn’t just standing up for him; I was standing at his feet.

  I knew security cameras were hidden somewhere on the wall. Hour after hour I scanned every inch of it, but I still could not find the cameras.

  The room remained uncomfortably cold. It was warmer than it was when I had arrived a couple of days earlier, but it still wasn’t over fifty degrees. As I had the first night, I shivered from the cold. But suddenly, my left hand started getting warm. Standing absolutely still, I slowly opened my hand. I saw something sparkling like gold dust. Then, the warmth spread from my hand and up my left arm. I did not know what was happening.

  I heard the Lord speak in an unmistakable way. The Holy Spirit is holding your hand, his Spirit said to my spirit. You are not alone. The Holy Spirit is standing next to you, holding your hand. Do not worry about anything. No one will harm you through this. Do not worry about what you are to say. I will speak through you, because I am with you and I will never leave you. No one will be harmed. Don’t worry about anyone. Just tell the truth.

  The warmth in my hand started to fade away, but the sense of God’s presence did not. If the Lord is with me, whom shall I be afraid of? I thought. My God has not forsaken nor forgotten me!

  Joy came over me, and I began praising God in my heart. My eyes could not see the Lord, but I felt his arms wrapped around me. God felt so close.

  I stood there, enjoying the feel of his arms around me, smiling. I was rejoicing, standing still at his feet.

  He is standing next to me. All I have to do is stand at his feet every time I have no control of what is going on. I smiled even more, knowing that God was still in control despite what was happening.

  Soon, I heard people talking in the other room. “This isn’t working! He is smiling!” someone said.

  Mr. Park returned and said, “That’s enough. You can go to bed now.”

  I never had to stand still in the middle of the room or the corner again.

  I lay down and silently thanked the Lord: You know my name. You know my every thought. You are good and gracious. I will not be afraid. I will trust you, Lord. I will stand still at your feet.

  FOUR

  COMING CLEAN

  Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

  —1 PETER 5:7

  WHEN I WOKE up the next
morning, I still had a very strong sense of the Lord’s presence. He kept repeating Romans 12:14 to me: Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. I had known this verse all my adult life, but it sounded different in light of where I was and what I faced.

  Okay, Lord, I prayed, I will try. But I cannot bless in my own strength. You will have to give me the power, because my flesh wants to curse.

  I thought of 2 Corinthians 12:9, which says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

  I needed as much of God’s grace as I could get when Mr. Park came storming into my room. “You are still writing lies,” he said waving the pages I had written the day before.

  I expected him to usher me to the corner. Instead, he motioned for a guard to come over beside me. Visions of the television show 24, in which agents use truth serum to get the information they want, flashed in my mind. I think I watch too much television, I told myself. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.

  “Down on your knees,” the guard said.

  I got down on the floor, knees against the concrete, and sat back on my heels. “No, not like that. Up,” he ordered. I straightened up, standing on my knees as best I could on the cold, hard floor. I wobbled just a bit as I shifted my weight, trying to find a comfortable way to hold this position.

  Within a few minutes the muscles in my back started tightening into a knot. The knot kept getting tighter and tighter until the pain became unbearable. I broke out in a sweat, even though the temperature in the room was maybe fifty degrees. My body started to sway. I felt like I might fall over.

  I looked up at the guard. “I cannot do this,” I said. “I have a back problem. I’m doing the best I can, but I just can’t do this.”

  “Okay then. Get up,” the guard said in a disgusted tone. I stood and tried to stretch out the pain in my back. My knees ached as well.

  The guard let me stand for maybe ten minutes. Then he barked, “Get down again.” I went up and down like that for a couple of hours.