I Was Waiting for the Bullet… But Heaven Had a Different Plan!

My name is Oba. I’m 36 years old and I’m a nurse in Pyongyang, North Korea.

3 years ago, I was just another prisoner of the communist regime living under a government that imposes absolute control over our lives.

My story could be that of anyone else in that place. But what happened to me and what I’m about to tell is something that can only be explained by God’s intervention.

I knew that North Korea is a closed country where freedom of expression is a luxury that doesn’t exist.

Speaking about Jesus, there is an act of treason, a death sentence. And I’m not exaggerating.

If you’re caught with a Bible, praying, or even mentioning the name of Christ, your life is over there.

But even so, God found a way to reach me in this place where hope seems to have no place.

The story I’m about to share began on March 15th, 2018. It was a Thursday and I was returning from the hospital after a 16-our shift.

As always, the work was exhausting. And that day, three patients had died. The reason, a lack of essential medicines.

But in the medical reports, we wrote the opposite, saying they departed gloriously, serving the socialist fatherland.

It was a lie, and I knew it. The regime preferred to invest in missiles rather than life-saving medicine.

I felt anger, exhaustion, and a profound injustice. I was walking down Chooima Street on that freezing day when something caught my eye.

There was a wet, dirty piece of paper lying in the gutter near the statue of Kim IlSung.

The street was empty with no one around. Curious, I picked up the paper and began reading.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

My heart raced. It was a Bible verse right in the middle of Pyongyang. How was that possible?

I nervously hid the piece of paper inside my bra and ran home. When I arrived at my apartment, a small 15 square meter space on the 13th floor, the paper thin walls made me feel claustrophobic.

Neighbors watched each other, reporting any suspicions. That night, locked in the bathroom, I lit a candle and read the writing on the piece of paper.

What happened next was inexplicable. A peace I had never felt before. A peace that seemed to come from another world.

Something profound touched me. It was as if I had finally found something greater than all the pain and oppression I was experiencing.

At that moment, I whispered for the first time a prayer. Jesus, if you really exist, show me who you are.

And from that moment on, my life began to change. In the following months, something incredible happened.

I began finding more and more fragments of the Bible scattered throughout Pyongyang. It seemed impossible, but it was happening.

I found pages from the Gospel of John taped to the wall of a public restroom.

Verses from the Psalms rolled up in an expired medicine bottle. Pieces of the book of Revelation hidden under benches in the square.

Something supernatural was happening, and I felt part of it, as if Jesus were sewing his word on the streets of one of the most closely watched cities on the planet.

Life became even more difficult. During the day, I pretended to be the ideal nurse for the regime.

I smiled at the leader portraits, attended mandatory meetings, and sang government songs. But inside, my heart burned with an immense love for Jesus Christ.

I began to pray secretly for my patients. When no one was looking, I would gently place my hand on a patient’s shoulder and whisper, “Jesus, heal this person.”

And to my surprise, miracles began to happen. Patients doctors had given up on were recovering inexplicably.

People in comas were waking up. Severely infected wounds were healing overnight. Terminal cancers were being reversed.

Dr. Jump, the emergency room chief, began to notice something strange. He called me in and said, “Nurse Oba, your patients have an abnormal recovery rate.

What’s going on?” I didn’t know what to say. I only knew I was witnessing something that couldn’t be explained by medicine or science.

It was Jesus and he was acting. When he decides to reveal himself, no force, no regime can stop him.

And today, as I tell this story, I know that nothing, not even the most closed regime in the world can stop the power of God.

The blood was hot in my veins, a strange forboding invading me. The doctor looked at me saying nothing, but his eyes held suspicion.

What’s happening to you?” He asked, but my answer was simple. “Nothing special, doctor. Just taking better care of them.”

He looked at me again, but the expression on his face said more than words could.

In North Korea, distrust is the first step to something more fatal. And somehow, I knew my fate was about to change irreversibly.

The exact moment that sealed my fate occurred on March 12th, 2018. I was caring for a little girl named Soon, just 8 years old.

She had been hit by a military truck and had been in a coma for a week.

The doctors had given up hope and said she wouldn’t survive the night. I was alone with her in the room looking at her pale, fragile face.

And in that moment, something inside me clicked. I knelt beside her bed and for the first time did something I never would have imagined doing in that place.

I prayed out loud. Jesus Christ, Lord of heaven and earth, I know you can heal this child.

Show your power in this place where your name is forbidden. In Jesus’ name, “Amen.”

When I finished the prayer, something incredible happened. Soon, still in a coma, opened her eyes, looked at me, and said with a shy smile, “Auntie, you were talking to Jesus.

I saw him. I am just like you.” At that moment, my heart raced. “Was Jesus here?

Here in the room?” I asked mostly to myself. And she with that charming smile said, “It’s very beautiful, Aunt.

He told me he healed me because you asked him to. Those words were like a shock to my heart.

I knew something supernatural was happening. But before I could process it, I heard the unmistakable sound of military boots in the hallway.

I looked at Soon, then at the door, I knew someone had reported me. My life, as I knew it, had come to an end.

Boots stopped in front of the door and I heard three loud knocks. Nurse Soba, open the door in the name of the state.

My mind was clouded, but I still had the strength to whisper to little Soon, “Jesus, I now place my life in your hands.”

The door exploded, and five armed soldiers burst into the room. “The commander,” a middle-aged man with a scar on his face, pointed his gun at me.

“You’re under arrest for illegal activities,” he said, his voice cold and hard. Subversive religious practices, Christian propaganda, and illegal missionary activities.

Soon, still fragile, began to cry. Don’t take Auntie away. Jesus said she’s special. The commander looked at the girl with contempt.

What are you saying, young lady? Soon stammered, trying to explain, but I interrupted, my heart aching.

She’s delirious. She’s still recovering from the accident, but it was too late. “Search the room,” the commander ordered angrily.

The soldier went straight to the cabinets. Another checked the medicine cabinet, and the third entered the bathroom where I had hidden the Bible fragments I had found.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would faint. Commander, shouted the soldier from the bathroom.

I found something. He came out holding the scraps of paper, the fragments of the Bible I had saved over the months.

The commander examined the papers angrily, then looked at me with absolute hatred. Christian propaganda, counterrevolutionary literature, illegal missionary activity, he said, spitting on the floor.

Do you know the punishment for that? He asked with a cruel smile. Death, I replied, trying to remain calm.

Exactly. Death by public execution. They handcuffed me so tightly that my wrists went numb.

As they dragged me out of the room, I heard Soyon scream in despair. And so Jesus won’t let anything bad happen to her.

He told me so. Those were the last words I heard before I was thrown into the back of a military truck.

My head covered with a bag and my hands handcuffed. As the truck took me to prison, I couldn’t think of anything else.

I only knew I was in Jesus’ hands. Even without knowing what awaited me, I kept praying.

Jesus, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, but I know you found me for a reason.

I had no idea how things would unfold, but I knew in my heart that no matter what happened, I was not alone.

If I die, may my death glorify your name. If I live, may my life be used to demonstrate your power in this country.”

These words, more than a prayer, were the cry of my heart in that moment as the truck carrying me stopped.

The sound of the iron gates opening was a cruel warning, and the commonant’s voice echoed, “Welcome to camp 18.

This is where traitors like you come to die.” I didn’t know what awaited me in that concentration camp.

What I didn’t imagine was that God was about to show me the greatest miracle of my life.

Something that would shake the foundations of the most oppressive regime in the world. But before revealing what happened in that camp, I need to tell you about the miracles that began to occur in the hospital.

Because it was through them that the regime realized something supernatural was manifesting in my life.

After finding the first fragment of the Bible, I began fasting and praying every day.

I would wake up at 4:00 a.m. And pray for an hour before starting work.

During my shifts, I would pray silently for each patient I saw, asking God to act.

And Jesus began to manifest himself in a powerful way. The first miracle happened a week after I began praying fervently.

A 55-year-old man arrived at the hospital with a massive stroke. He was completely paralyzed on the right side of his body, unable to speak or swallow.

Dr. Kim, the neurologist, looked at the patients wife and said, “Prepare for the worst.”

Unfortunately, Mr. Park has no chance of recovery. Brain damage is irreversible. But when I was alone with Mister Park in the room, something inside me stirred.

I placed my hand on his forehead and in faith cried out, “Jesus, you created this brain.

You can restore what was damaged. In the name of Jesus, I command this man to be completely healed.”

The next day, when I arrived for my appointment, I could hardly believe my eyes.

Mr. Park was sitting up in bed, eating on his own, speaking normally, and moving the right side of his body perfectly.

“Dr. Kim was stunned.” “This is impossible,” he repeated, looking at the scans. “Yesterday, he was practically dead.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, visibly disconcerted. “A miracle of socialist medicine,” I replied, trying to remain calm, but my heart was bursting with joy.

Jesus was working miracles through me. The second miracle was even more impressive. A 22-year-old woman named Yong arrived at the hospital with terminal leukemia.

She was yellowish, hairless from chemotherapy and weighed only 77 lb. The doctor said she had a week to live.

When I saw her condition, my heart broke. She was so young, so full of life, and had her whole life ahead of her.

A nurse came up to me and whispered, “I’m so afraid of dying.” I took Yong’s hand and replied, “Don’t be afraid.

I’ll pray for you.” She looked at me with frightened eyes. “Pray to who?” I looked around, making sure no one was listening.

Jesus Christ, I replied. He has power over death, her eyes widened in panic. That’s forbidden.

I know, I said softly. But he’s real. He’s human, and he can heal you.

That night, I spent hours praying for Yong. I cried out to Jesus with all my soul, asking him to act.

Lord, this girl is too young to die. Show your power over cancer. Let everyone in the hospital see that you are greater than any disease.

I spent two days fasting, not eating, just crying out to God while Yonga devoted himself to prayer with me.

The next morning, something extraordinary happened. The doctors were in shock. The cancer, which had previously been visible and advanced, seemed to have receded.

Yunga was stronger, more energetic. Dr. Kim didn’t know what to think. “This doesn’t make sense,” he murmured, looking at the scans.

But I knew what had happened. Jesus had acted and his presence was undeniable. These miracles began to attract attention and the regime realized something was happening, something they couldn’t control.

But at that moment, I already knew that what was about to happen in my life wouldn’t be a coincidence.

God was preparing me for something much greater, something only he could do. On the third day, something truly extraordinary happened.

Yong woke up with rosy skin, her eyes shining, and asked for food. She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom on her own.

The doctors rushed to run new blood tests. When the results came back, Dr. Lee, the oncologist, turned white as a sheet.

He was speechless. “These numbers don’t make sense,” he stammered. “Her white blood cell count is normal.

There’s no sign of cancer cells. It’s as if the cancer simply disappeared.” Dr. Jam trying to find a medical explanation said spontaneous remission.

That happens occasionally. But I knew the truth. Jesus had healed Yong completely. Yonga remained in the hospital for another week under observation.

During that time, she kept asking questions about Jesus. One evening, she approached me and with curious eyes asked softly, “Nurse Soba, how can I know this Jesus who healed me?”

I smiled and began to teach her what I knew. I spoke about God’s love, Jesus sacrifice on the cross and the promise of eternal life.

Jesus died for our sins. I said he rose again to give us new life.

If you believe in him, you will have eternal life. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I believe nurse Soba.

I believe in Jesus.” In that moment, with her hands in mine, we prayed together.

Yung gave her life to Christ right there in that hospital room. When she was discharged, she hugged me tightly and whispered, “Thank you for introducing me to my savior.”

But it was that very moment, that happiness and the change in her life that cost me everything.

Yong, so full of joy at her healing and renewed faith, couldn’t keep it a secret.

She began telling everyone about Jesus. And in a place like North Korea, where even children can inform on their parents, that was a death sentence.

A week after Yong left the hospital, the secret police, the bogu, arrested her under torture.

She revealed everything. She spoke about me, our prayers, how Jesus healed her. I knew that no matter how hard I tried to hide my faith, it wouldn’t last long.

Meanwhile, other miracles continued to occur at the hospital. A 12-year-old boy who arrived in a vegetative state after an accident made a full recovery after I prayed for him.

A 60-year-old woman with end-stage renal failure was supernaturally healed. A soldier who had lost his sight in a training accident regained his vision after a single prayer.

Things were beginning to spiral out of control. The doctors were becoming suspicious. It was impossible that so many unexplained cases were occurring among the same nurse’s patients.

Dr. J began to observe me more closely. One day, he walked into the room while I was praying for a patient.

I quickly interrupted the prayer and pretended I was just checking vital signs, but I could see in his eyes that he already suspected something.

At the end of my shift, he called me. “Nurse Soba, I need to speak with you.”

My heart raced. “Yes, doctor,” he replied, his voice serious. “Your patients are performing far above average.

The recovery rates are amazing. The other doctors are talking about it,” I stammered. “I’m just taking extra care with them.”

But he didn’t believe me. He stared at me for a long moment before asking, “Have you been doing anything different?”

I quickly replied, “No, doctor, nothing different.” But he wasn’t convinced and began monitoring me.

I knew this wouldn’t end well, but there was no turning back. That’s when everything fell apart.

On March 10th, 2018, 2 days before my arrest, Dr. Jum installed a hidden camera in the room where I saw most of my patients.

He wanted to discover my special treatment method, and the camera captured everything. Deep down, I knew my life was about to change forever.

She lay there, an empty body, without hope. I could see the pain in her eyes was deeper than any physical suffering.

I looked at her, and with my voice breaking, I tried to pull her back to reality.

“What’s your name?” I asked again, but the woman seemed oblivious to my presence. She just stared at me, lost in a world of her own, as if consumed by the pain and despair the concentration camp had inflicted on her.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang that reverberated through my body. I was there, locked in a tiny cell, alone in a place that could have been compared to my worst nightmare.

The water was dirty, the floor stained with blood and urine, and the stench of death was unbearable.

But there in that dark, colder, something supernatural began to happen inside me. I wasn’t alone.

I felt for the first time a powerful presence stronger than any chains, stronger than the walls of the camp that tried to imprison me.

It was the presence of Jesus. The same Jesus who had met me on the streets of Pyongyang.

The same Jesus who had made me see miracles happen where there was no hope.

In my mind, a soft, steady voice told me, “You are not alone. I am with you.

I knew that what was happening at camp 18 was beyond human comprehension. There, where even the most brutal guards were accustomed to seeing prisoners lose all hope.

I hadn’t lost mine. In that cell, where life seemed to have extinguished, I was more alive than ever.

The faith Jesus planted in my heart blossomed like an unquenchable flame. The woman in front of me seemed so disconnected from reality.

But somehow, I knew she wasn’t lost forever. I knew Jesus was sending me to her.

Over the next few days, without anyone noticing, I began praying for her. I couldn’t see the results immediately.

But I had faith. And as always, faith, even in the most difficult situations, has the power to move mountains.

At some point, she looked at me with eyes that were a little brighter, as if she were beginning to realize something, as if the light of hope had begun to penetrate the darkness of her soul.

She didn’t say anything, but I knew something was shifting inside her. What happened in that concentration camp was inexplicable to anyone living outside the power of God.

Miracles began to happen there where death seemed the only certainty. Jesus showed me once again that he can work anywhere, even in the most impossible circumstances.

Even in a place where even the faintest hopes were crushed, he used me. The miracle wasn’t just for the woman in my cell.

The transformation was for everyone around me. People began to see something different in me.

Something that wasn’t part of the world we live in. They began to see the light of Jesus which shone through me like a beacon.

And no one, not even the soldiers, could extinguish it. Through every silent prayer, every act of faith, and even the smallest words of hope, Camp 18 became the place where Jesus’s power was most evident.

I knew that no matter how much the regime tried to silence me, God had a much greater plan for my life.

Death could not stop me and prison could not imprison me. Because where Jesus is, there are no barriers, no limits.

He is greater than any earthly force. Looking back today, I see how God led me there.

Not only for my own transformation, but to be a testament to his power. And so, even in the worst place a human being could be, God performed miracles, transformed lives, and showed that his word will never return void.

I am living proof that no matter how dark the night may seem, the light of Christ will always prevail.

I’ve heard about you, he said without looking up. His tone was menacing, but I was no longer afraid.

Something in me had changed. Something neither he nor anyone else could erase. They say you’ve given hope to others.

That you’ve healed the sick. Are you playing with death, prisoner? I looked at him with a calm I hadn’t known I possessed.

I don’t joke with death, Colonel. Death doesn’t scare me. It no longer has power over me because I belong to Christ.

The colonel looked up, his gaze fulminating. The silence dragged on for a few seconds, but I didn’t give up.

I had nothing left to lose. Do you really think you can change anything here?

That your faith will save anyone? This is camp 18. Here we are all the same, inhuman.

There is no God here, only the will of the great leader. I leaned a little closer to the table, defiant.

You’re wrong. There is a God here, and he sent me to show that his light can reach even the darkest places.

No one here is beyond his grace. Not even you. He stared at me with such fury.

It seemed like he would attack at any moment. But I knew something bigger was at stake.

My God-given mission was not just to survive, but to be a witness to his presence, even in the midst of so much evil.

You will pay for this, prisoner. Be careful what you say. Your god cannot save you here.

I said nothing more. The colonel waved his hand as if expelling me from his office.

I left silently, but within me, a force I could never describe pushed me forward.

I knew my fight was not against that man, nor against the guards, but against the fear and darkness that sought to dominate my heart.

Back in my cell, I met prisoner 4471, or rather Parkman, as she now called herself.

She looked at me with eyes full of gratitude. I knew our faith had planted a seed there and that God was preparing something far greater than I could have imagined.

In that camp, where hope seemed long gone, something was beginning to change. It wasn’t the food that sustained us, nor the care of the guards.

It was the strength of faith, the presence of Christ that gave us the strength to endure.

Even if Colonel Hang and the others tried to break us, God’s light could not be extinguished.

In the days that followed, more prisoners began to approach, curious about the changes in Parkman and me.

Some looked with suspicion, others with hope, but all were touched by the transformation that was taking place.

During those long, painful work days, we began to pray silently, to sing in whispers, as if the very earth beneath our feet were a testament to our faith.

Each prayer, each song was a small victory against the forces that sought to strip us of our humanity.

But something even more surprising happened one day while we were in line for work.

One of the guards, a young, arrogant man, walked past us and stopped. He looked at Parkman who was softly singing a worship song.

“Are you singing?” He asked, his expression angry. She stopped singing for a moment, but I saw in her eyes that something was about to happen.

“Yes, I’m singing.” She said. I’m praising my God. The guard stood still for a moment, looking confused, as if unsure of what to do.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving us standing there completely unresponsive.

When he walked away, a shiver ran down my spine. I knew something was changing, not only within us, but also within those who were there to watch over us.

Something unseen was beginning to happen in that camp. Something the regime couldn’t control. And I knew with all certainty in my heart that it wouldn’t be just in my name that Christ would act.

He was preparing the ground for many more to find freedom. Not just from physical imprisonment, but from the true freedom that only he can give.

The fight was just beginning. And despite the circumstances, I knew he was with me.

No matter what happened, he would always be with me until the end. I’ve been watching you.

Colonel Wangs words sounded like a sentence as I stared at the contrast between that luxurious office and the miserable conditions of the cells, the polished wood of the desk, the leather armchair, the portraits of the leaders on the walls, and to top it all off, torture instruments hanging like decorative paintings.

It was a scene of absolute and merciless power. He stared at me and continued, “Your cellmate is different, happier.

Do you want to know why?” I remained silent, unsure of what to say. I don’t know, Colonel, I ventured.

He stood and walked slowly toward me, his heavy step vibrating the floor. He was a large man, nearly 6 ft tall, with hands like hammers.

His voice was icy, sharp as the Siberian wind. Don’t lie to me. I know exactly what you’re doing.

And before I could react, he grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground.

You’re spreading your religious poison among the prisoners. A punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of me.

Stop this Christian crap now or you’ll wish you were dead, he threatened. Breathing heavily, I replied.

I can’t stop talking about Jesus. He’s the only hope in this place. Another blow landed on my face, and I felt my lips split.

He then held out a paper to me. You have a simple choice, prisoner 4472.

Sign your denial of Jesus, and your punishment will be light. Refuse, and you will see what true suffering is.

I looked at the document which said I would renounce Jesus and proclaim Kim Jong-un as the only God.

And with a firm heart, I replied, “I will never sign this. Jesus is my Lord and Savior.

I would rather die than deny it.” A cold smile appeared on the Colonel’s face.

“Perfect. Then let’s begin your education.” Months of torment followed. Something I can only call hell.

I was thrown into a tiny cell, barely able to move with no light or comfort.

Water every 3 days, food every five. But worse than the hunger and thirst was the mental torture.

Loudspeakers constantly blaring blasphemies against Jesus. Jesus is a liar. Jesus is dead. Jesus cannot save you.

At first, I tried to resist, singing hymns in my head. But after a week of no sleep, doubt began to gnaw at me.

Where are you, Lord? Why do you allow this? I prayed in the darkness, receiving only silence in response.

One night came when I was so weak, so desperate that I almost signed the paper.

I was ready to deny my savior. Then a soft, caring voice broke through the darkness.

Soba, my beloved daughter. It was Jesus. I am with you. I have always been with you.

Your suffering is not beyond my control. But it hurts so much, Lord. I can’t take it anymore.

I replied, “My grace is sufficient for you. My power is made perfect in your weakness.”

And then a warm golden light flooded my cell. There were no windows, no lamps, but that light was there filling everything.

In that glow, he appeared, real, tangible, as present as the air I breathed. He showed me his pierced hands and his nailed feet.

I understand your pain because I experienced it first. Tears streamed down my face. Why, Lord?

Why so much suffering? Because through their suffering, many will know my love. In that moment, fear and pain were replaced by peace.

I knew that even in that dark place, I would never be alone. He was with me, more real and stronger than any suffering.

“Your testimony will break chains that have been binding for decades,” Jesus said. I didn’t understand at the time, but he asked me to trust, even without grasping the hole.

The light faded, but an inexplicable peace remained with me. From that night on, I was no longer afraid, no longer in doubt.

Jesus was with me in that cell. He had shown that regardless of the circumstances, his presence was greater than any suffering.

And if this story touches your heart the way it touched mine that night, I implore you not to remain silent.

Share what you’ve heard. Let others know the power of God who can work in the most impossible situations.

For then more lives will know that there is no darkness so deep that Christ cannot reach.

After 3 months of torture and isolation, they finally took me out of the punishment cell.

I had lost 45 lbs. My hair was almost completely white and my body was frail.

But contrary to appearances, my spirit was stronger than ever. When they brought me before Colonel Wang, he asked me with a challenging look, “Are you ready to sign now?”

I looked straight into his eyes and said in a voice that didn’t seem to be my own, “Jesus is my Lord and he is older than you, older than this field, older than this country.”

His face flushed with anger, but the answer he expected never came. “Then you will experience suffering you never knew existed,” he threatened.

I was then returned to the general cell. When Miss saw me, his eyes filled with tears.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “I died. I replied. But Jesus raised me from the dead.

Over the next few months, something incredible began to happen. Other prisoners began approaching me, asking about my faith.

The first was a man named Cho, imprisoned for desertion from the army. He asked me with a look of despair, “Is it true that your God can give us hope even here?”

I replied, “With the certainty that only God’s grace can give, not only hope, but eternal life.”

A few days later, Genanoa, a prisoner, gave her life to Christ. Later, Lee Sanmi, who had been arrested for trying to escape to China, also gave her life to the Lord.

Then came Mr. Kim Donsik, an elderly man arrested for listening to South Korean radio.

Within just 6 months, a secret group of 15 Christians was forming in camp 18.

We would meet secretly in the bathroom before dawn to pray and share the Bible verses I still remembered.

We sang hymns quietly, almost whispering, but with hearts full of faith. And it was in this environment of persecution and pain that miracles began to happen.

I, who had been diagnosed with advanced tuberculosis, was cured after we prayed together. The doctors couldn’t explain it.

Sanmi, who had suffered from an infected leg wound for months, was cured overnight after prayer.

And Mr. Donsick, who was diabetic and had no access to insulin, had his diabetes cured after our prayer.

The guards began to notice the miracles that were happening. They didn’t know what to think, but soon they began to watch us more closely.

One night in December 2018, we were finally discovered. During one of our secret prayer meetings, we were caught.

“Stop right there!” A guard shouted, shining his flashlight. “What are you doing?” We were caught red-handed, praying in a circle.

Illegal religious activity, the guard reported over the radio. Organized group of Christians. We were immediately separated and taken to solitary confinement cells, but the damage was already done.

Colonel Wang was furious. He led me into his office, still shackled, hand and foot cuffed.

He fixed me with a look of rage, and I knew the worst was yet to come.

They pushed us into the main courtyard. The air was sharp as a blade. Each breath came in white clouds.

The snow crunched beneath their boots. In the center, they erected a 10-ft concrete wall stained with ancient executions.

A place made to frighten, to snuff out lives. My stomach churned. But there was a strange calm within me.

It wasn’t human courage. It was peace from above. I was led to the front of the wall.

They forced me to my knees, tied my hands behind my back, and ordered me to look down.

I heard the sergeant order silence, the guard’s voices forming a metallic hum. One by one, they raised their rifles.

The cold seemed to hold time. I closed my eyes and began to pray. Not long words, just a whisper.

Lord, in your hands, I trust. The sergeant shouted the count. 3 2 1. The sound of gunshots exploded like thunder, but nothing.

An absurd silence filled the air. I felt the reverberation of the sound on my skin, but there was no impact.

I opened my eyes and saw the clouds part as if someone had ripped open the sky.

A beam of light crossed the entire courtyard, warm and real, as if the very presence of God had descended.

The rifles misfired. Bullets left the barrel and vanished into thin air as if passing through an invisible wall.

The guards recoiled, confused, exchanging alarmed glances. Some dropped their weapons with trembling hands. Amid the chaos, I heard a cry, not of pain, but of surprise.

One of the guards, a man I had only known as a face, fell to his knees on the spot, sobbing like a child and murmuring, “Forgive me!

Forgive me!” There was no spectacle of fire or thunder beyond the natural. It was something profoundly serene and impossible at the same time.

Men who had sworn loyalty to the regime began to tremble, to weep, to ask the name of the one I served.

Suddenly, a truth hovered there that no man of that rank could erase. Jesus was present and he didn’t come just for me.

The prisoners in their cells banged on the bars as if waking from a deep sleep.

Men, Yung, and many others lifted their faces and sang, no longer whispers, but hymns that pierced the freezing air and for a moment transformed the entire courtyard into a makeshift church amidst concrete and blizzard.

Several guards stepped away, overcome by a feeling they couldn’t name. Guilt, fear, and for some, a renewed sense of regret.

The colonel tried to react. He shouted orders, tried to restore discipline, but his words seemed insignificant compared to what had happened.

Some officers called for reinforcements. Others retreated, paralyzed. In less than an hour, camp 18 was no longer the same in its foundations.

There were invisible cracks in the fear that held the machinery together. News of the inexplicable spread like wildfire through the camp.

I’m not saying everything was resolved that day. There were harsh consequences later. Investigations, official denials, renewed persecution elsewhere.

But something had been planted. Men and women who arrived without hope, stripped of name and future, found meaning.

Every small act of faith, every silent prayer in the cells, became a seed. Some guards never again silenced the name of Jesus.

Some prisoners died for their faith later, yes, but their deaths were no longer final.

They were testimonies that no one could bury. When I was released years later, I returned to the same place with other brothers in Christ.

Camp 18 was still standing, but many chains no longer held hearts. I took with me scars on my body and joy in my heart.

I also took faces, stories, and an indisputable certainty. Wherever Jesus enters, chains break. Not only the iron ones, but the ones prisoners carry within themselves.

If your soul is touched by this story, don’t keep it to yourself. Share it.

Tell someone who needs to hear that there is even in the non-places of the earth a space where God enters and changes everything.

My life marked by pain and the miracles I’ve seen proves that no regime, cell or wall can stop the love of Christ.

He wins. He always has. That morning seemed endless. The biting cold of the December winter pierced my skin, but my spirit was enveloped in a peace that surpassed all understanding.

As I prepared to face what I believed to be the end, I looked around and saw the scene of horror and despair unfolding, more than 200 prisoners, weakened by hunger and suffering, stood there, forced to witness my execution.

Their expressions ranged from fear to sadness to silent faith. But they were all there as if they were part of the audience at a macob spectacle.

The sound of a loudspeaker pierced the silence of the camp. This is what happens to traitors who follow imperialist religions.

Colonel Wangs voice reverberated off the concrete walls. Let this be a lesson to all.

He was determined to break me, to erase my faith in front of everyone. They led me to the execution wall, a sinister place that had seen the end of many.

The handcuffs cut into my wrists, and the chains on my ankles felt like they weighed a ton.

Each step I took was harder than the last. The sergeant, with a cruel smile, approached and asked the question everyone was waiting for.

Any final regrets? Do you want to deny your Jesus to save your life? I looked at the faces of the prisoners.

Seeing so many who suffered along with me. Among them were my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Their eyes fixed, attentive, filled with pain, but also with unwavering faith. My heart surged with courage.

I looked at everyone and shouted with all my remaining strength. My only regret is not having spoken more about Jesus.

He is the only way, the truth, and the life. The words echoed in the freezing air and a murmur ran through the crowd.

Some prisoners wept. Others smiled. A smile of hope amidst despair. Colonel Wong, furious, ordered me tied to the metal post.

The ropes were so tight they cut my skin, and warm blood dripped down my arms.

He appeared before me in full military uniform, and with the golden pistol at his belt.

His eyes were filled with hatred. And his voice, cold as steel, announced, “Soim, you have been sentenced to death for counterrevolutionary activities and illegal religious propaganda.

This is the end of your journey.” He approached me and made me one last offer.

This is your last chance. Deny Jesus Christ publicly. Except that Kim Jong-un is the only master, and your sentence will be commuted to life in prison.

I looked him in the eye without hesitation. Colonel Wang, you can kill my body, but you cannot touch my soul.

Jesus has already given me eternal life. Your death. The storm does not scare me.

The colonel shook with anger, his face contorted. So be it, soldiers to your positions.

Five soldiers marched up to the metal posts. They were uniformed and ready, their rifles gleaming in the winter light.

The metallic sound of the rifles being loaded sounded like an ominous omen. My heart still pounded, but not with fear.

An unearly peace enveloped me. Colonel Wong gave the order. Aim. The sound of five rifle barrels being pointed at my chest made time seem to freeze.

I knew that at this distance there was no way I could miss. I closed my eyes and began to pray aloud.

Heavenly Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. Jesus, receive my soul.

Holy Spirit. That’s when Colonel Wang in his commanding voice shouted, “Silence! There will be no more blasphemy in my camp.”

He tried to silence my last thoughts and words, but I knew. I looked at him with a confidence that wasn’t my own.

These are not blasphemies, Colonel. These are the last words of a daughter of God returning home.

And then the command was given. Fire. The whole world seemed to stop. Five fingers simultaneously pulled the triggers, but nothing happened.

The sound of rifles didn’t come. Only the sound of a metallic click repeated five times.

The world around me seemed to freeze. No bullets left the rifles. The colonel, now pale, looked at the soldiers, confused and desperate.

“What the hell?” He muttered. The soldiers looked at each other, stunned. Some began checking their weapons, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Colonel Wong, now desperate, shouted, “Check the weapons? How is this possible?” But what he didn’t know was that at that moment, a force greater than any regime, any weapon was at work.

It was the invisible hand of God preventing that act of violence, showing in that field of death that he was present and that when he decides to act, no human power can impede his will.

The guns still in the solders’s hands remained inert. Not a single bullet was fired.

The expressions of disbelief were visible on all the faces around me, and the fear in Colonel Wongs eyes was palpable.

He was beside himself, shouting orders, trying to get his men to fire again. But to his surprise, what he feared most was happening.

The gun simply refused to fire. As the colonel approached, desperate to resolve the situation with his own pistol.

Something even more shocking happened. He pointed the gun directly at my head, the expression of hatred on his face visible.

“Goodbye, Cristiana,” he shouted as if he had gained control of the situation. But when he pulled the trigger again, nothing happened.

The click of the empty pistol echoed, sending panic over the colonel. And then what seemed like ordinary reality transformed before my eyes.

The sky, once dark and threatening, began to change. Rays of golden light cut through the heavy clouds, as if the sky itself were opening in response to something far greater than anyone could imagine.

The biting cold quickly dissipated, giving way to a gentle, comforting warmth. The once icy wind now brought a sense of peace and welcome.

It was as if nature itself were aligning with what was happening at that moment.

I could hardly believe my eyes when the chains binding me began to unravel. Untouched by anyone, the handcuffs that had caused me so much suffering fell apart on their own, and the ropes tying me to the post disintegrated as if they were nothing.

I was free. Free from the physical weight that had imprisoned me, but also spiritually free from all the fear that had haunted me until that moment.

Colonel Wong screamed, calling it witchcraft. But I knew what was happening. It was nothing of the sort.

It was the immense power of God, divine intervention in the midst of evil, something so pure and glorious that nothing human could explain it.

And then the light, which had previously seemed merely a heavenly glow, intensified to the point of blinding us.

But it wasn’t a frightening blinding. It was a light full of love and power, transcending everything we had ever experienced.

That’s when he appeared. Not as a vision, not as a spectre of my imagination, but as a tangible, real presence.

Jesus descended from heaven, wearing a robe brighter than snow, and his fiery eyes were filled with love, but also with authority.

The light surrounding him was so pure that it brought everyone in the courtyard to their knees, surrendered to his presence.

And not only the prisoners, but even the guards, the men who had tortured me, fell to the ground, immersed in terror and awe.

Amidst the awe and reverence, he reached out his hand to me, and I felt something indescribable course through me.

It was a current of love so intense it nearly left me speechless. His voice echoed, not only in the air, but within me.

So, my daughter, well done, good and faithful servant. The Lord’s words echoed in my soul, and I couldn’t help the tears that began to stream down my face.

“Lord, I thought I was going to die here,” I whispered, my voice trembling. But he answered me with a certainty that made me understand my mission was not yet complete.

“You cannot die yet. Your testimony must be heard. The world needs to know that no government, no matter how powerful, can silence my word.”

And then something even more impressive happened. The gates of camp 18, vast and imposing, began to open, not with the strength of man or machine, but as if the universe itself were obeying God’s command.

The metallic sound of iron twisting was deafening. Yet at the same time, it was like heavenly music to our ears.

The impossible was happening. The way was being opened. We can leave, cried Yuno, one of the prisoners who had been cured of tuberculosis, and whose eyes now shone with hope.

Miss, my sister in Christ, also exclaimed with indescribable joy, “We are free.” And there, before everyone, freedom was supernaturally present.

I knew that what had happened was not just a coincidence or an accident. God had freed us in that moment, not only physically, but also spiritually.

He had shown powerfully and visibly that nothing can stop his love and that his light can penetrate even the darkest and most desperate places.

What I saw that day, what we experienced in that concentration camp was the manifestation of God’s power that no one, not even the most oppressive regime, could stop.

And so our freedom was not only physical but also eternal. For in Christ, nothing is impossible.

Jesus raised his hand and in a voice that cut through the icy wind said, “She alone leaves today.”

The words echoed without a loudspeaker. Everyone heard them. The others still have a purpose here, but the day will come when they will be free, too.

Then he looked at me. Get up, Soba. Go, walk toward freedom and tell the world what you have seen here.

I walked through the open gates. Each step left a trail of light in the snow, as if the ground itself blessed my path.

Reaching the camp entrance, I turned one last time. Jesus stood there, enveloped in that light that came not only from heaven, but from something that passed through people.

The prisoners were red-faced, kneeling, worshiping. Several guards lay on the ground, not as enemies, but broken.

Even the colonel was different, paralyzed between fear and a confusion that seemed more like regret.

He ran toward me, stumbling, his words tumbling out in desperation. “Your Jesus, he he can really forgive.”

I could barely answer because the tears on his face spoke louder than a thousand words.

“Yes, Colonel. My Jesus is real. He loves you too. His voice cracked, not with anger now, but with grief for everything he had done.

There, in the middle of the camp I had so often called hell. The man who had condemned me knelt in the snow.

“How can I be forgiven after all I’ve done?” He asked, weeping. “Recognize Jesus as Lord.

Give your life to him. He will do the rest.” It was that simple. In front of everyone, he asked for forgiveness.

That tore something inside me. Not revenge, but mercy. Jesus spoke tenderly to the colonel.

You have a mission. Treat my children here with care. Your authority now will be to care, not to destroy.

The light surrounding him touched the man. When it dimmed, his face had changed. The hardness had given way to a new humble calm.

He wasn’t sure what would come next. But one thing was clear. Nothing would be the same from then on.

As Jesus began to ascend, the light grew until it was almost unbearable to look at.

His last words hung in the air. Let all men know that I am the Lord.

No human power will hinder my work. Then he left, not as one who vanishes without a trace, but as one who leaves a living seed planted in the hearts of each person there.

The silence that followed was heavy and holy at the same time. Men and women remained kneeling, weeping, praying, overcome by something they didn’t fully understand, but which was already transforming their lives.

Some guards wiped their eyes as if to deny what they felt. Others no longer had the strength to stand.

Among them all, there was a new certainty. Something greater had happened. That day, I left camp 18 with marks on my body and peace in my heart.

I took with me faces, names, and promises. I also took with me the order Jesus gave the colonel to treat those prisoners with dignity and begin to reform the place.

I know there were consequences, doubts, investigations, resistance. But I also know that where the Lord enters, chains begin to break from the inside out.

If this story touched you, don’t keep it to yourself. Share it. Let others know that even in the darkest place, God’s love finds a way.

My voice is just one among many. But as long as I live, I will tell what I have seen.

No wall, no weapon, no man can silence the power of Christ. I continued my journey, now closer to the Chinese border.

Each step was sustained by an indescribable faith. Freedom was still far away, but something told me nothing could stop me from reaching it.

The feeling of being guided by invisible but powerful hands was with me at every moment.

And as I walked, the weight of what I had experienced in camp 18 seemed to lessen, as if the light of Christ were erasing every memory of pain and suffering.

On the third day, as exhaustion began to overtake me, I found an empty hut on the side of the road.

I entered and soon discovered there was more food, rice, fruit, and a bottle of water, as if someone had known I was coming.

I couldn’t explain it, but once again, I felt God’s providential touch in every detail.

Continuing my walk, I found myself near a river where a small group of soldiers spotted me from a distance.

What happened next seemed like something out of a supernatural tale. As the soldiers approached me, I began to pray softly, asking for protection.

Suddenly, a breeze began to develop, a gentle yet powerful wind that seemed to envelop me.

It was as if nature itself was in tune with my prayer. The soldiers saw me, but something inexplicable happened.

As they began to approach, they suddenly stopped. Their alert expressions turned to confusion. One of them looked at me wideeyed.

You, you are. He didn’t finish the sentence, but I knew exactly what he meant.

They knew from the news that had spread who I was. They knew I was the woman who had been supernaturally freed.

I am Subakim, I said. And as I spoke, God’s presence seemed to fill the air around us.

The words coming from my mouth were not my own. They were an echo of God’s voice speaking through me.

And Jesus has set me free. Then something even more incredible happened. A thick, dense, and inexplicable mist descended from the sky and enveloped me completely.

It was no ordinary mist. It was something supernatural, a visible, and uncontrollable protection. The soldiers stared at me, but couldn’t see me.

They circled, searching for my location, unable to find me. “Where did she go?” One of them asked, his voice filled with panic.

But the mist enveloped me with an invisible force. And I knew I wouldn’t be touched.

They searched. They shouted, but the mist hid me like a divine cloak. And as if the scene were part of a larger plan, I simply vanished before their eyes.

When the fog cleared, I was miles away, hurtling toward my freedom. The soldier’s words still echoed in my mind.

But the feeling that something much bigger was happening, something beyond my comprehension, filled my heart.

Over the next 3 days, I saw miracles like these happen again and again. With each step, the Lord provided exactly what I needed.

Whether it was food, protection, or wisdom for the journey, he guided me, strengthened me, and above all made me a witness to his power and mercy.

Every miracle I experienced along that journey seemed like confirmation that the impossible doesn’t exist for God.

He was my strength. He was with me on every walk, on every corner, on every patrol I passed.

He was my guide, my protection, my freedom. And the story I carried from a place of pain, suffering, and death was now a story of hope, redemption, and miracles.

Camp 18, the darkest place I had ever known, was now just a milestone on my journey with Christ.

A milestone that reminded me that no matter how dark the place, the light of Jesus always wins.

The lady, with an expression of amazement and wonder took my hand. I’m a Christian, too, she said, her eyes shining.

I knew something extraordinary was happening. God brought me to you. Her words brought a wave of relief, as if God’s presence had materialized there in that simple square.

She led me down a narrow path to her house, which was a little way from the square.

Her home was humble, but filled with a piece I had never experienced before. Lee offered me a simple meal, but in that moment, it was more than enough.

Every morsel of food, every sip of water seemed to have been provided directly by God.

As we ate, Lee told me her story. She had lived most of her life in a small village in China, far from big cities.

However, she had felt God’s calling to move to the region near the North Korean border, where many refugees were fleeing to find refuge.

I knew God was preparing me for something, even though I didn’t know what, she said with a soft smile.

Now I see it was to help you. That night, Lee spoke to me about her faith and how she believed God was using the Chinese underground church to reach those in need.

“Many people from North Korea come here. Some die trying, others are captured, but God always has a plan for those who have faith,” she said.

I fell silent, reflecting on everything that had happened. The journey of miracles, the power of God sustaining me through impossible times, and now an elderly woman speaking my language as if the Holy Spirit itself were manifesting itself to guide and care for me.

The next morning, Lee led me to a network of local Christians who were helping the fugitives, offering shelter, food, and guidance.

I knew my journey wasn’t over yet, but now a clear purpose lay before me.

God had brought me to this point to use me as a witness to his power to show that he is capable of freeing even the most imprisoned and broken souls.

As I prepared to move on, Lee gave me a tight hug. “God has a plan for you, daughter,” she said, her eyes full of compassion.

“Tell the world what he’s done for you. I didn’t know what the future held for me, but one thing was certain.

The light of Christ, which illuminated the path of darkness and pain, would never again be extinguished.

I was free not only physically but spiritually. And now it was my mission to share what Jesus had done for me so that others could also experience his deliverance, his love, and his grace.

The journey to freedom was arduous, but each step brought me closer to fulfilling God’s mission for my life.

I knew that no matter where I went or what I faced, Jesus would be with me.

He had already shown me that there were no insurmountable barriers, no human force or government that could stop his power.

And so with renewed faith and a heart full of gratitude, I moved forward, determined to be a living witness to the transformation that only Christ can bring.

I’m a Christian, too. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. In my first city in China, the first person to reach out and help me was a sister in Christ.

Glory to God. We said it almost simultaneously, as if our hearts recognized each other.

Lie took me to her home. Simple, modest, but full of love. On the wall, a crucifix and an image of Jesus caught my eye.

On the table, an open Bible seemed to invite me to read. “I’ve been praying for the Christians of North Korea all my life,” she said as she served me hot soup, as if that moment were an answer to her prayers.

I was moved. I never imagined I would meet someone who prayed for the people of my homeland.

I shared with her everything I’d experienced. The piece of Bible I found on the streets of Pyongyang, the miracles in the hospital, my imprisonment in the dreaded Camp 18, the appearance of Jesus, and my supernatural deliverance.

Lee wept silently as she listened and then exclaimed, “My God, what a powerful testimony.”

But I also confessed my anguish. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t go back to North Korea.

I don’t know China. I don’t have any family here. She smiled tenderly and replied, “Here, all Christians are family.

God has a family, and you are now part of it.” That night, Lie took me to an underground church hidden in the basement of a simple house.

30 Chinese Christians had gathered to pray. When she told my story, a hushed silence fell until everyone stood, clapped, and wept together.

A woman named Sanglin called out to me joyfully, “Welcome, Sister Soba.” Pastor Chenming, a man in his 50s, invited me to share my testimony.

For two hours, I recounted every detail from the arrest to the vision of Jesus descending upon the field.

At camp 18, many fell to their knees in worship. I reported, my voice breaking.

Pastor Chen said with conviction, “This is the most powerful testimony we’ve ever heard.” Sang added, “God didn’t bring you here just to save you.

He brought you to tell the world what he’s done. But how can that be if you don’t know anyone outside of here?

The pastor explained that they knew missionaries from various countries, the United States, South Korea, and the United Kingdom, who could help bring this story to the world.

That same week, Chen contacted an international missionary organization. As soon as they heard my story, they began arranging for my transfer to Soul, South Korea.

The trip was a miracle in itself. Documents appeared out of nowhere. Normally strict immigration agents let me through without question and flights that were full had seats available.

It was January 20th, 2019 when I landed at Inchon International Airport in Seoul. I felt like I was on another planet.

Lights shone. Advanced technology surrounded me. Free people bustled about. Everything so different from North Korea.

A group of missionaries was waiting for me, holding a sign. Welcome, Soba Kim. Witness to freedom.

I was greeted by Sarah Johnson, an American missionary who hugged me tightly. “We’ve been praying for you for weeks.

Your story is already impacting the world,” she said. Still in disbelief, I asked, “How is this possible?”

Pastor Chen smiled and replied, “I have shared your testimony with mission networks in 15 countries.

Churches around the world are praying for you and the Christians in North Korea. They took me to a missionary home in Seoul.

Simple but welcoming. What impressed me most was the freedom. I could open the Bible without fear, pray aloud, talk about Jesus without having to hide.

But my heart was broken in too. I was free. But what about my brothers and sisters in Christ who were still suffering at Camp 18?

What had happened to them? I asked Sarah, my voice breaking. She smiled and replied, “We’re receiving extraordinary reports.

Something is changing at Camp 18.” “What kind of changes?” I asked anxiously. Colonel Wang, the one who converted on the day of his liberation, is reforming the camp.

He has stopped the torture and is allowing prayer meetings. Even some guards have converted.

Glory to God. But she continued, “The miracles didn’t stop when you left. Supernatural healings continue to happen.

Comeomaos prisoners are waking up. Terminal illnesses are disappearing.” With tears in her eyes, Sarah looked at me and said, “If you’re watching this testimony and God is touching your heart, don’t ignore his call.

Share this story with those who need to know that Jesus continues to work miracles today.

Like, subscribe and share how God has worked in your life because this testimony is of Christ’s power to transform any situation.

The government is trying to keep it quiet,” Sarah explained. But news is leaking out.

Underground Christian movements are springing up all over the country and in other concentration camps.

This was the greatest proof. My testimony was igniting a fire of revival throughout North Korea.

Christian prisoners transferred from camp 18 were bringing hope to other places. Jesus was using my release as the spark for this great move.

Over the next few weeks in Soul, I told my story at churches, conferences, and the media.

Each time I witnessed miracles in a church of 2,000 people, 500 gave their lives to Christ after hearing about Jesus appearance at Field 18 at a missionary conference.

My testimony helped raise funds to send 100 missionaries to Asia on Christian radio. After sharing the healing miracles, I received calls from people reporting instantaneous healings while listening.

Soba said the senior pastor of Soul’s largest church, your testimony has supernatural power. It’s as if Jesus is speaking through you.

No, I replied. I am only an instrument. He is the one who speaks. But the most memorable moment was yet to come.

I decided to return near the North Korean border to pray for my country. It was February 2019.

We were in the demilitarized zone, the DMZ between the two Koreas, the most militarized place in the world, full of barbed wire, landmines, and armed soldiers.

We were as close as possible to the North Korean side with a group of international missionaries.

Just a few meters away was my homeland, the place where I had experienced so much suffering, but also the place where I had experienced the supernatural power of Jesus.

I knew I needed to pray for my nation. With a heart full of hope and faith, I knelt on Korean soil and began to cry out, “Jesus, Lord of all nations, pour out your spirit upon North Korea.

May the walls of oppression fall like the walls of Jericho. May your light shine into the depths of darkness.

As I prayed, something amazing happened. The sky opened in a way that reminded me of my experience at Camp 18.

Rays of golden light began to shine over North Korean territory. The light was visible from where we stood, even through the thick border, as if the barbed wire barriers didn’t matter.

The South Korean soldiers standing guard looked at the scene in bewilderment. What is this?

One of them asked. It’s the glory of God, I replied, still on my knees.

He’s visiting North Korea again. We prayed intensely for about an hour in a way I had never experienced before.

We felt as if our prayers were rising directly to the throne of God. And when we finally stopped, one of the soldiers approached visibly impressed.

“Ma’am,” he said respectfully, “in my 10 years of service on this border, I have never seen anything like what happened here today.

What does this mean?” I had no doubt about the answer. This means Jesus hasn’t forgotten about North Korea.

He will free all my people just as he freed me. That night, we returned to Seoul with a deep sense that something significant had changed in that moment.

And we were absolutely right. In the weeks that followed, we began receiving extraordinary reports from China.

North Koreans were fleeing, but they weren’t your average refugees. They arrived with reports of miracles and visions.

And even more surprisingly, they spoke of mass conversions taking place inside North Korea. A man who escaped from Camp 16 reported that after seeing the same golden light I described, 50 prisoners came to Christ in a single night.

A woman who fled Pyongyang reported that underground churches were operating in the capital and that the services were so packed they became a phenomenon.

A defecting soldier said that several army officers had converted and were now protecting Christians instead of arresting them.

Soba!” Sarah Johnson shouted to me one day, running up to me with a tablet in her hands.

“You have to see this.” She showed me a video leaked from North Korea. It was blurry, secretly recorded, but I could clearly see what was happening.

It was Camp 18. Hundreds of prisoners were gathered in the courtyard, not for an execution or punishment, but for a service.

They sang Christian hymns loudly, some raising their hands, others weeping with joy. And at their head was Colonel Wong, no longer in his military uniform, but in simple clothes, leading the service.

I was speechless, tears streaming down my face. “It’s impossible,” I muttered in disbelief. But Sarah smiled, her eyes shining.

“It’s not impossible, Chief. This is Jesus fulfilling his promise.” He said the gates of hell would not prevail against his church, and Camp 18 was literally a portal to hell.

At that moment, I clearly understood why Jesus had delivered me in such a supernatural way.

It wasn’t just to save my life. It was to start a spiritual revolution that could transform an entire nation.

The letter I held in my hands continued, and each word struck me with a profound weight, as if each letter were a confirmation that something even greater was to come.

Continuing, Miss wrote, “Sister Soba, everyday more people are coming to Christ here. We are no longer prisoners in the sense we once were.

We are free in Jesus even within the walls of camp 18. Our testimony is spreading and more lives are being touched by this light that we cannot explain but which we know comes directly from heaven.

My heart pounded with each sentence. Camp 18, the place where it all began, where I had suffered so much, was now becoming a base for God’s work in ways I could never have imagined.

The prisoners who had once been tormented were now healing, prophesying, and being used by God to spread the message of salvation throughout the country.

It was as if the prison had become a mission field, more fertile than any place I had ever known.

Miss continued to tell about the changes that were happening. Our services are growing every day.

It doesn’t matter what kind of dark place we are in because the light of Christ shines brighter in our darkness.

Sister Soba, missionaries are no longer just coming from other camps. Now prisoners themselves are becoming missionaries and each of us without exception has a calling.

I closed my eyes for a moment absorbing those words. I never could have imagined that something so incredible could happen in such a terrible place.

The place where suffering had been unbearable was now being used by God as a fertile field for his kingdom.

When I finished reading the letter, my thoughts were in turmoil. I felt so small in the face of all this, so insignificant.

But at the same time, I felt God’s presence in a tangible way. He used my pain, my obedience, my weakness for something far greater than I could have comprehended.

He had transformed suffering into testimony. He had taken something destructive and turned it into a channel of blessing.

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. The tears flowed freely as I praised and thanked God for his faithfulness, his greatness, his sovereignty.

He not only freed me from physical imprisonment, but he also used that experience to free thousands of others.

It was as if all the suffering I’d endured had been a springboard for something much greater, something that was impacting the entire country and now, even the world.

Miss’s letter ended with one last message that touched me deeply. Sister Soa, I and everyone here want you to know that we are praying for you.

You have set us free with your obedience to Christ. Now we want you to know that wherever you are, we are also united in prayer.

May God’s grace continue to sustain you and may more miracles happen through you. Those words were like a balm to my heart, already weary but full of hope.

The impact of it all left me speechless. Camp 18, where so much suffering had occurred, was now a school of faith, and the work of Jesus continued to spread despite all the obstacles.

Every day more and more people were being touched by God’s glory. And even though I was thousands of miles away, my heart was still with my brothers and sisters in North Korea, I was with them in prayer, with them in hope that what God started, he would complete.

What I had experienced was not just my story. It was the story of a nation being transformed.

A nation that by God’s grace would one day be completely set free. He had started something in the heart of a prisoner and was now spreading his kingdom in a powerful way.

It was just the beginning. And I knew with certainty that God wasn’t finished with North Korea.

He still had bigger plans, deeper miracles, and a greater work than anyone could imagine.

Because where there is darkness, the light of Christ shines even brighter. And where there are prisoners, God always has a purpose to set them free.

Sister, keep this secret until the time is right. But I need you to know, there are Christians within the government in Pyongyang.

I can’t reveal names, of course, but some high-ranking officials are turning to Jesus. They are protecting their brothers and sisters in faith and even secretly changing policies.

There are unconfirmed rumors that Kim Jong-un has been having dreams of a man dressed in white saying, “Free my people.”

We don’t know if this is true, but the fact is that in some regions, the persecution is easing.

I’m speechless. Could it be possible that Jesus is reaching even the country’s most powerful dictator?

That last part of the letter made me cry like never before. And then came a message that touched my heart deeply.

My cell, cell 127, the place where I suffered so much, is now considered a sacred place.

New inmates go there to pray. They say angels have appeared there. The sick who enter are healed just by being there.

A plaque was placed on the wall made of metal that reads, “Here, Jesus broke the chains of a nation through the faith of a woman named Soba.

I couldn’t read on. The tears flowed uncontrollably. In the weeks that followed, more letters arrived, not just from Missen, but from Christians scattered throughout North Korea.

One letter from camp 14 said, “The guards here have been asking us about him, about Jesus from camp 18.

Five of them have converted this month alone.” Another from camp 25 told the story of a prisoner transferred from camp 18.

We now have 200 secret Christians here and one from Pyongyang. Underground churches exist in 15 districts of the capital.

Their testimony is being whispered throughout the city. But the letter that impacted me most arrived in March 2020.

It was from Colonel Wang himself. Dear Sister Soba, he began in a handwriting trembling with emotion.

I am Jyn Swang, the man who once tried to take your life. Today I am a pastor to 3,000 Christian prisoners in camp 18.

I am writing to tell you that the central government has noticed the positive changes in the camp.

Labor productivity has increased by 300%. Violence has completely disappeared. Disease has decreased dramatically. They think these are new rehabilitation methods.

But we know it is because Jesus is ruling here. They are even considering applying our model to other camps.

It was unbelievable. Unbeknownst to them, the communist government was helping spread Christianity throughout the prison system.

But Wong had something else to tell me. He said he had seen a vision.

He saw the day when the gates of all the camps would open. He saw Christians freely embracing their faith, churches opening in Pyongyang.

That day is closer than the world imagines. He wrote, “Your suffering was not in vain, sister.

It was the key that opened the heavens over North Korea. After reading this letter, I knew my ministry here in South Korea needed to change.

It wasn’t enough to just tell my story. I needed to prepare the world for what God was doing there.

I began organizing prayer conferences specifically dedicated to North Korea. The first brought together 100 people in a small church, the second 500, the third 2,000.

And by December 2020, we were already in stadiums with 50,000 people praying in unison for North Korea.

During one of these large conferences in Seoul, something completely unexpected happened. There were about 40,000 people gathered in the Olympic stadium, and I was nearing the end of my testimony when suddenly a golden light began to shine over the entire arena.

It was the exact same light I had seen at Field 18. Everyone in the stadium sensed it, and within seconds, those 40,000 people fell to their knees together.

Beneath that glow, we felt something supernatural. A voice echoing, not in our ears, but in our hearts.

A clear message. The time has come. North Korea will be free. News of that moment spread quickly around the world.

Videos of the event went viral, watched by millions. Churches across the globe began praying fervently for North Korea.

And then something that seemed impossible began to happen. In January 2021, the North Korean government announced reforms to its forced labor camps.

They declared they would adopt new, more humane methods inspired by what was happening at Camp 18.

2 months later, in March, they released 500 political prisoners for good behavior. In July, for the first time in 70 years, they allowed international organizations to inspect their prisons.

The inspectors returned with reports no one expected. Visibly happy and cooperative prisoners and a completely transformed morale.

They didn’t know what they were seeing. A true spiritual revival within those walls. But we did.

September 2021, 3 years after my release, I received a call that changed everything. Ms.

Kim, a voice said in Chinese on the other end. I’m a contact from the underground network.

I have a message from Pastor Wong. My heart raced. He said the moment was coming that God’s plan for North Korea was about to move to the next phase.

What was this plan? A mass liberation. Jesus was about to open that nation to the gospel publicly.

He couldn’t give details over the phone, but he asked the world to prepare. Churches, missionaries, Bibles in Korean.

Everything needed to be ready. That phone call completely transformed me. I began traveling the world carrying an urgent message.

Prepare for North Korea. God is about to open those doors. I visited churches in the United States, Europe, Africa, Latin America, and Asia, and everywhere.

A new fire was ignited in hearts. Pastors began training missionaries specifically for that country.

Churches printed millions of Bibles in Korean. March 2022, 4 years since God set me free.

Now I write these words on a plane to Tokyo. Tomorrow, I will speak to 100,000 people at a conference.

Next week, I will be in Brazil before 200,000. The message I bring is always the same.

Jesus is setting North Korea free. Get ready. But as I write, my heart is divided.

Joy for what God is doing, and pain for those who still suffer. Because even with thousands being converted, revival growing, and changes taking place, millions still don’t know Jesus in that land.

Even today, children die of hunger, while some leaders live in luxury. Families are torn apart by a cruel and unforgiving system.

Christians remain hidden, praying in silence, awaiting the day of true resurrection, the day of total freedom.

That’s why I never stop telling my story. That’s why I keep traveling, praying, and crying out, because I know that what Jesus began in that cell at Camp 18 won’t stop until all of North Korea is liberated.

I believe that the same Jesus who appeared in that execution yard may one day manifest himself in the palaces of Pyongyang.

The power that broke my chains is the same power that will break the chains of an entire nation.

And I know that day is coming. It could be tomorrow. It could be next year.

But it will come when borders are open. When churches can stand publicly and when millions of North Koreans finally know the transforming love of Christ.

On that day when all this happens, we will remember one very simple thing. It all began with a nurse who found a lost piece of the Bible on the streets of Pyongyang and chose to die rather than deny her savior.

It all began with a woman who believed that Jesus was more powerful than any government, who had a faith that would not bow no matter the cost.

And when that freedom arrives, when millions can worship Jesus openly, we will be certain of one thing.

No situation is impossible for God. No heart is so hardened that he cannot soften.

No country is so closed that the Holy Spirit cannot open. No dictator is so powerful that Christ cannot defeat.

Because our God is the God of the impossible. What is impossible for men is completely possible for him.

My name is Soquim. I’m a nurse from North Korea. Jesus freed me from camp 18 to tell the world what he’s doing to this day.

And my story isn’t over. It’s just beginning. Because the same Jesus who saved me wants to save you.

The same power that freed me can free you. The same hope that sustains me can be your strength.

No matter how difficult your situation seems, no matter how dark your present, no matter how lost you feel, Jesus is there.

He sees you. He loves you. And he has a plan for your life that is far greater than you can imagine.

Now imagine, will you let him into your heart today? Will you surrender your life to Jesus just like I did in that cold cell?

Will you trust him no matter what? Because if you trust, your story can change the world.

Your faith can move mountains. Your testimony can liberate nations. Never underestimate what God can do through one person fully committed to him.

I was just a scared nurse with a torn piece of paper in my hands.

But Jesus used that to light a fire that is changing an entire nation. What can you do with your life?

There’s only one way to know. Surrender everything to Jesus today and prepare to witness miracles you never imagined.

If this story touched your heart as it did mine in that cold cell at Camp 18, don’t keep it to yourself.

Share this message with those who need to hear that God’s power is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Like this video so more people know that there’s no place so dark that Christ can’t shine.

Subscribe to the channel because we’ll continue to bring you testimonies that prove our God is the God of the impossible.

And don’t forget, tell us in the comments how God is working in your life.

Your story could be the spark that ignites faith in someone else’s heart. Together, we are part of something much bigger, a revival that is transforming the world, one life at a time.