"When He has come,

He will convict the world,

of sin, of righteousness,

and of judgment."

My lecture today is on a subject, well known to Christians 80 years ago, but largely forgotten by the Lord's people today. Historians have called it "the Korean Pentecost". And so it was, as the Holy Spirit rushed mightily into the life of an infant church. But I would prefer another name, one, I think, more descriptive, of the Lord's work at the time: "The Korean Baca". You get the reference, don't you? "The Valley of Tears".

But first, a few words about Korea itself, its introduction to Christianity, and the men who were most used in the revival.

Korea is a small Asian peninsula, dividing the Sea of Japan on the east from the Yellow Sea on the west. Its land is fertile, and its people, well-educated and hard-working. It is potential paradise--especially in the south--but for one problem: it lies between two ancient and bitter rivals: China and Japan. Because of this unfortunate geography, the Koreans have long been subject to war, occupation, and the atrocities which go with both.

Its first Christian missionary was the German pietist, Charles Gutzlaff. He had come from Manchuria and hoped to open a station in the north of Korea. He found, at the time, that "Christianity was unknown, even by name". But he sought permission of the king to introduce it to his nation. A request was sent by mail--and took several weeks to answer. During that time, he distributed Bibles and Christian tracts among the educated classes (who could read Chinese), and sought to help them in any way he could. But the request was denied, and so the eager missionary was sent packing. He had done little, it seems, but his faith in the promises of God were great:

Gutzlaff died without seeing any fruit. But the Word of God cannot come back void. Thirty years later, a second missionary, Robert J. Thomas, came to Korea. He was a Welshman by birth and an associate of the London Missionary Society. He had come to work in China. But when he discovered that educated Koreans could read the Chinese script, he sailed south with more Bibles and tracts. His Ship, The General Sherman, reached the mainland, and sailed up the Tai Tong river. Every so often, the ship would anchor, Thomas would board a dinghy, row to the shore, and leave piles of Christian literature. This he did at several stops. But alas, the ship was grounded on a sandbar. This gave the authorities time to move against the "foreign devils". They chained several small boats together upstream from the ship, lit them on fire, and let them float down to the stuck vessel. This, of course, caused a fire aboard The Sherman and made the men jump overboard and swim to shore. But on the beach, they met nothing but fury: The Koreans had gathered with clubs, to beat the sailers to death. And so they did, every last one of them, including the heroic missionary.

But Robert J. Thomas was no ordinary victim. His final acts gave him a martyr's crown. The other sailers came ashore with swords and pistols, and fought to the bitter end. But Thomas staggered out of the river carrying Bibles, which he thrust into the hands of the men who were clubbing him to death. Fifty years later, Christian Churches would stand on the very spots that Thomas had placed his precious cargo. But his ministry, like Gutzlaff's was short. Still though, Christianity had at last been brought to the Korean Peninsula.

Another thirty years would pass until a permanent work was established. In the early 1890's, the Presbyterian Churches of the North, South, Canada, and Scotland, moved simultaneously to set up missions in Korea. This they did, along with Christian schools and hospitals. The work they did was heroic: men like Horace Underwood, Horace Allen, J.W. Heron--and especially Samuel Moffet--gave up the promise of comfort, fame, and money, to live among the Koreans, in all of their ignorance, poverty, and disease.

But the work these men did, though great, was anything but spectacular. After ten years of back-breaking work, they had but few converts: perhaps a few hundred among a nation of many millions. And many of these "converts" were suspect. One missionary, after long years of labor, wondered if he had seen even one "genuine, lasting conversion".

Reinforcements were needed. The Macedonian cry rang out: "Come over and help us". The first to heed the call were William Blair, his wife, two other missionaries, and a couple of female workers. They came ashore, September 12, 1901, at Seoul. Later they would move north, Blair going to a dirty fishing village by the name of Pyongyang (the present capital of North Korea).

The first task was learning the language. And this was no easy thing--especially for Blair who had struggled with Greek and Hebrew back in seminary. A man named Ne Che-su was asked to teach the American bumbler the Korean tongue. And he did it in an unexpected way. He taught the language by prayer! "Kedo-hapsata" began every lesson: "Let us pray". And the whole day was spent praying in Korean--much to Mr. Blair's instruction, and, later, edification, too.

After several months with Mr. Ne, Blair was ready to preach in Korean, albeit slowly at first. He was assigned five counties to evangelize. And he did so in the "old-fashioned way". Like Paul, William Blair, used the marketplace to great effect. And, like His Savior, just talked with people as they walked down the dirt roads. Over the next five years, Blair saw significant fruit from his labor. Churches began dotting the landscape of northern Korea.

For these new converts, Blair felt a strong pastoral concern. He taught Bible studies to the leading men, allowing them to soon become "lay elders". He also did personal visitation and ofen solved theological and personal disputes. These efforts, too, proved successful. Within a few years, the Korean churches under his care became a highly disciplined and efficient people.

With these stringent requirements, you'd think that the churches would be tiny and always losing members. But this was not so. They grew annually, adding far more (on average) than they lost. Over the five years, roughly, 1901-1906, the Korean churches grew from a few hundred to 250,000 baptized members (and many others, of course, in attendance, awaiting baptism, and so on).

One anecdote: The Koreans (like everyone else) love to be remembered. But this was no easy thing for William Blair. He was only able to visit each church once a year, and so to remember thousands of people, most of whom he'd only seen once or twice in his life, was mighty hard to do. But if he didn't, feelings would be hurt. And so, he came up with a plan: whenever a Korean man asked him, "Mr. Blair, remember me?", the preacher would answer, "Mr. Kim, isn't it?" He was right about half the time.

William Blair, Samuel Moffet, and the others, then, had the Korean Church running like a well-oiled machine.

But something was missing. Have you picked up what it is? The churches are professing an orthodox creed, growing in number, studying the Bible, meeting for daily prayer, and sharing the Gospel with their neighbors.

Like the Rich Young Ruler, they can say of many commands, "These have I kept from my youth up!" But also, "What lack I yet?"

Only one thing: an overpowering sense of their sin and misery.

Don't get me wrong. The Koreans were not unusually self-righteous; not a band of East Asian Pharisees at all. They did not think of themselves as "sinless" or "perfect". By professing a Savior, they admitted their need to be saved...and that from sin. But "sin, guilt, misery, wretchedness" were more in their vocabularies than in their consciences.

This brings us to "the Korean Pentecost" (or `Baca'--"Valley of Tears"). In August, 1906, Dr. Hardy, came for a week to Pyongyang, to teach a Bible study on I John, emphasizing the verse: "God is love and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God in him". This left the congregation somewhat disturbed. But nothing much followed.

Five months later, William Blair preached on I Corinthinans 12:27: "Now, ye are the body of Christ, and severally members thereof, and if one member suffers all members suffer with it". About it, he later wrote, "I endeavored to show that discord in the church was like sickness in the body...striving to show how hate in a brother's heart not only the whole church, but Christ, the Church's head". "After the sermon many testified to a new realization of what sin was. A number with sorrow confessed lack of love for others, especially for the Japanese (who were then occupying the country)".

Blair and his associates saw this as "a token for good". And two days later, called for a special prayer meeting among themselves to "wrestle with God and not let Him go till He had given them a blessing".

They did. And God did. That night, January 1907, a missionary named Mr. Lee, cut his sermon short, and asked if anyone wanted to pray. A man volunteered and confessed hatred in his heart for others. A second followed, then a third, a fourth, and on and on it went.

Finally, Mr, Lee said, "If you all want to pray like that, all pray". Then voices could be heard, sobbing throughout the church, of their bitterness against others. Finally, the whole congregation--1,500 strong--dissolved into tears.

The following night, a similar scene occurred. This time, though, two of the church officers were involved: Mr. Kang and Mr. Kim confessed mutual hatred for each other. The next night, Mr. Kim confessed his hatred for another officer: "Pang Mok-sa" (which is Korean of William Blair!) Kim turned to the man he had once so hated and begged, "Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me?" Blair fell on Kim, wept and prayed as he had never done before. The pastor and his assistant were reconciled.

To sum it up, Blair wrote: "My last glimpse of the audience was photographed indelibly on my brain. Some threw themselves full length on the floor, hundreds stood with arms outstretched to heaven. Every man forgot every other. Each was face to face with God. I can hear yet that fearful sound of hundreds of men pleading with God for life, for mercy...

"The Spirit of God came down from heaven

in a mighty avalanche of power upon us".

Zechariah 12:10 took place that night, and was soon duplicated in other places throughout Korea: "And I will pour on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the Spirit of grace and supplication; then they will look on me whom they have pierced; they will mourn for Him as one mourns for his only son, and grieve for Him as one grieves for a firstborn".

What were the results? James 4:9-10 tell us: "Lament and mourn and weep! Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up".

The Koreans who "humbled" themselves 86 years ago, were "lifted up" by the Lord. Numerically, within a generation, the tiny church grew to more than 2.5 million members. And this does not include everything in the world that calls itself "Christian". These people are nearly all Bible-believing, soul-winning Christians. And a great many of them, Reformed in doctrine and life.

Missionaries were soon sent world-wide to preach the Gospel to Koreans in Russia, China, Japan, and the U.S.A., too.

But the great result of this revival has nothing to do with numbers, be they ever so impressive. It has to do with grace. From 1910-1945, Korea was part of the Japanese Empire. And Japan was a Shinto nation. Militantly so, as the years went by. "Shintoism" means "respect for elders" and culminates in the bowing before its sacred shrine. This presented a serious challenge to the Korean Christians. How would they answer it?

A few "Denied the LORD who bought them" and performed the disgraceful deed. But most--the overwhelming majority would not "bow the knee to Baal or kiss the obscene image".

This stand cost them dearly. Pastors, evangelists, and ordinary Christians were imprisoned and tortured. Some were held upside down while water--or ground chili peppers were put up their nostrils. Others had bamboo shoots stuck under their finger nails. Others were hung up by the thumbs. Many starved to death in prison camps. And more than a few were summarily executed by firing squad.

And note, these were not the ordinary sufferings felt by a conquered people. Many Koreans--Animist, Buddhist, Confucian, atheist--suffered under the Japanese Imperial Army. But the Korean Christians suffered solely because they were Christians and would not compromise with idolatry. Every one of them was given a chance to be set free: "Bow at the Shinto Shrine" and go home. But they preferred a good conscience. And so they died--just as the early Christians had--for not saying KURIOS KAISER--"Caesar is Lord".

This same pugnacity continued after the partition of Korea at the 38th parallel. The Communists were far worse than the Japanese, and massacred untold Korean Christians. One large church building, full of people, was put to the torch. Others were lined up and shot. Others were driven from their homes, their professions, their families. Kim Ilsung, of course, has built his own "Gulag"--and there Christians still suffer for their faith. Whether any survive from the Korean Pentecost is doubtful--but their faith lives on in "their children, their children's children, as many as the Lord their God would call".

In the South the Christian Churches are thriving in number--and to a degree unknown in this country at least--growing in grace as well.

Thus we find the foundation of spiritual life and growth: repentance. Nothing else will do. No substitute for it. It is not till we "confess our sins, that we find Him "faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness". "Joy comes in the morning--all right--but only for those who have "endured weeping for a night".

Alienation from God--and one another--cannot be "papered over", but must be resolved through personal, sincere, and permanent repepentance. But how do we get this? It can't be manufactured from within or worked up from without. It can only be "given". And by whom? Only Christ! Acts 5:31.