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Our last day of our trip to South Korea, we went to a prayer mountain. It is said that the Prayer Mountain Movement in Korea sprang from a practice of the pioneering Christians during the late 1800s and early 1900s. Korean Christians were facing strong opposition from the home religions and philosophies (Buddhism and Confucianism), as well as the mandatory practice of Shinto imposed by the invading forces from Japan. Many Christians who resisted the curtailment of their freedom of worship were persecuted and even killed. In desperation, the Christians who could not practice their faith openly adopted the practice of waking up as early as four in the morning to ascend the nearby mountains where they could freely pray until the first ray of sunrise. At the end of the day, before going home, the Christians would again ascend the mountains to pray, fast, and ask God to intervene on their behalf.
I read that anyone who passed by those mountains would hear the cries and weeping of the men and women who were storming heaven with their sad plight and asking God to change their situation. It should be noted that Koreans do not typically pray silently, but rather, very loudly. From then on, prayer and fasting have been the hallmarks of the strong South Korean Church. In fact, on the 27th of each month, there is a world-wide movement to pray and fast for North Korea. I’m sorry, but I don’t think diplomacy, military might, or economic sanctions will cause the oppressive North Korean regime to fall. It will be the prayers of God’s people which will end this Asian Christian holocaust.
Pastor Cho, Chairperson of the Korean board of Seoul USA, has a prayer mountain and a prayer chapel at the base of that mountain. She invited us to join her for a time of prayer, reflection, and lunch. We had experienced remarkably good weather our entire trip. It had not rained a single day during the beginning of the rainy, monsoon season. That last morning, however, it was raining at our residence. As we began our two hour bus ride to the prayer mountain, I surrendered the day to God. I confessed that I really wanted it to be good weather, but I acknowledged that God knows best. Perhaps the farmers need the rain. I sacrificed my own selfish desire for a sunny day, and guess what – just minutes later the rain stopped and the sun came out.
The bus stopped at the main highway and we walked probably ¾ of a mile to the prayer chapel. I felt sorry for Kim, one of the members of the Southwest Hills mission team, because she was wearing high heels, but this woman of prayer pressed on. I was wearing my sandals and shorts (we had been told this was OK). I really did not know the height of this prayer mountain, or the kind of path which would lead to the top.
Rachel led a devotional time when we got to the prayer chapel. She shared from 2 Corinthians 1:1-11. The words, “For we do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, of our trouble which came to us in Asia,” really came to life for me (2 Cor. 1:8). One of the primary things God spoke to me on this trip was that the ministry was to be the message of the persecuted church in North Korea. Several people shared great insights from the Scriptures, and then we were given some time to walk around and see what God would say to us at this place.
I, for one, was not coming to a prayer mountain and not going to the top. I started out the most direct path beside the chapel and up the mountain. A couple of the youth were following me. We went a couple of hundred yards to the end of a garden area, and there the path ended. Someone shouted from down below, “Watch out for snakes.” With that, and no clear path to continue on, we retreated back down the mountain. Frustration started to set in. I couldn’t come to a prayer mountain and not go to the top could I? As I walked back down the mountain past the prayer chapel, I spied Pastor Cho walking toward me. She does not speak English, but thru crude sign language I indicated that I wanted to go to the top. She showed me a path back down the mountain a little ways. She then did a sort of waving back and forth motion with her hand. I thought she was trying to indicate that the path was winding with switchbacks. But when she abruptly crossed both hands in a sort of international “no” or “avoid” type sign, I knew she was trying to tell me to watch out for snakes. God, I hate snakes. But I could not leave this prayer mountain without going up. So, up I went.
It was a fairly steep path with quick switchbacks and the ascent went quickly. I picked up a stick about 7 feet tall to use as a trekking pole and as protection against any slithering devils I might encounter. Short pants and sandals don’t provide a lot of protection, so a staff would be a real comfort. I wonder if David had this in mind when he penned, “I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).
I began to pray in the spirit as I approached an overlook area. Then, I heard a voice from a little further up ahead. It was Pastor Rick of the Southwest Hills Baptist Church. He had been the only one to check on the path in advance, so he made it up to the saddle of the mountain. He indicated that he had cleared the way of cobwebs with his head along the ridgeline for a while, but he was heading back down to meet with the youth before lunch. I told him I might be a while.
I had not been the first up the mountain. The competitive side of me kicked in. I had started out on the wrong path, but had made a course correction. I did not give up and settle for just being at the base of a prayer mountain. And, while I could not be first, I could go further – all the way to the summit. So, I continued along the saddle, snapping photos of the valley below and the surrounding summits. I hoped I could see the prayer chapel far below, but I never did get a clear view of it.
After about 25 minutes or so, I viewed the summit up ahead. It was about time to head back down, but I could not come this close and not go to the very top. I pushed on. I felt driven, like a final kick before the finish line of a race. The undergrowth was thick and you could tell that most people did not go this far when they came up the mountain. There was a right turn on the trail, where it intersected with another trail. I broke a couple of small limbs so I wouldn’t miss the turn on the way back down. And I pushed on. I am not sure I’ve ever before sensed the urgency I felt at that moment. I had to get to the top. I just knew there was something very significant waiting for me there. My innate fear of snakes and falling from great heights had to be confronted and overcome as I passionately pursued this peak – solo.
I could not settle for anything less than the best God had in store for me. As I broke thru the thick underbrush, I came to an area of short heath with incredible views. The views I thought were good before, now were outstanding. I snapped several photos, fully knowing that what the camera would capture would not compare to what I was seeing. I was on the other side of the mountain range which was immediately behind the prayer chapel. I could see on the back side of that mountain and into a valley which was hidden from my earlier viewpoints. That, in itself, was a picture to me. I prayed. I praised God. I sang old hymns and new praise choruses. I wept. I laughed. It was an amazing God experience.
I cannot really find words to describe what I felt and experienced during those next few moments. I didn’t see a burning bush, receive the 10 Commandments, call down fire from heaven, or even see Jesus transfigured – but something happened to me on that mountain, something very special. I had earlier written that every man has a mountain, and every mountain has a man. What I meant by this was that every man has a cause, something much bigger than himself, that he was created by God to spend the rest of his days investing his time, talent, and treasure into so as to leave this world a better place. And, likewise, there is a cause, just waiting for someone to come along and take it up. I found my cause on a mountain summit half-way around the world, in South Korea, a country which had not even been on my radar screen a mere two years ago. But this day I knew from the very center of my soul that I would give the rest of my life for the cause of the persecuted North Korean Church. In a little less than one hour everything had changed. I had come to South Korea to play some small part in changing the world, but God showed me that He first had to change me. This He had done. The “orienting” process was now complete.
The man coming home was not the same man who had left west Georgia a mere 9 days earlier. The man returning now had a cause – and that cause was found in Korea, a land of many mountains.
