For most of the last 30 years, North Korea has topped Open Doors’ annual World Watch List — the ranking of the 50 most dangerous countries for Christians. In this totalitarian regime, following Jesus is not just countercultural; it’s criminal.
Every act of Christian worship — owning a Bible, praying, sharing the Gospel — is considered a threat to the regime. Believers are labeled a “hostile class” and subjected to torture, imprisonment or execution. And yet, despite it all, they persist.
Why? And what does their courage say to us?
In a society where one’s identity is supposed to revolve entirely around the Kim dynasty, Christianity poses a dangerous subversion. The North Korean regime has enshrined allegiance to its leader above all else. To worship another is, in the eyes of the government, an act of treason. The 2020 “Reactionary Ideology and Culture Rejection Act” makes it clear: any foreign ideology — especially Christianity — is to be eradicated. Article 29 explicitly criminalizes religious material, mischaracterizing it as “superstition.”
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Believers caught with a Bible, a worship song or even a whispered prayer can face decades in labor camps. Entire families are punished. Children are indoctrinated through the Youth Education Guarantee Act, which equates religious belief with murder and drug use. Surveillance is everywhere. The Ministry of State Security leads widespread crackdowns, aided by neighbors incentivized to inform. In this oppressive nightmare, the penalty for faith is often death. And yet, there is an active and growing Church.
The Gospel behind closed doors
In the midst of such darkness, stories like that of Joo Min shine with extraordinary courage and hope. Born and raised under North Korea’s oppressive regime, she initially crossed into China simply to find food. Instead, she found something far more powerful: the love of Christ. In a safe house run by believers, she read the Bible for the first time, despite having been taught about Christians being “wolves pretending to be sheep.”
After accepting Jesus and being baptized, Joo Min could have stayed in safety. But she sensed a different calling. “I felt like God was telling me: ‘Go back to North Korea,’” she said. And she did. Today, she leads a secret house church in one of the most hostile environments on earth. “If I am caught, I could end up in a labor camp, paying a heavy price for being a Christian,” she said. But she presses on. Her story is not just one of survival — it’s one of surrender, boldness and relentless hope.
In the West, where religious liberty is protected by law, we struggle to comprehend the kind of faith that flourishes under fire. We find it difficult to pray in public, to share our faith at work or to set aside time for worship amid the distractions of our daily lives. While we fear criticism, North Korean believers fear execution. Still, they worship.
“I thank God,” one underground Christian shared. “He continuously shows us His love and grace … We are proud to be part of God’s Kingdom and are motivated to live for Christ alone.”
Their words echo those of the early church in Acts, who rejoiced in suffering for the name of Jesus. Their faith isn’t theoretical — it’s all or nothing. In the face of unthinkable oppression, they cling to Christ, not because it’s easy, but because He is worth everything.
What does that mean for us?
It means that comfortable, lukewarm Christianity isn’t enough. Our brothers and sisters in North Korea are not merely surviving; they are living out the Gospel in one of the harshest environments imaginable. Their example confronts our complacency. It challenges our priorities. It reminds us that freedom is not something to be taken for granted, but rather, stewarded.
Their persecution should awaken our prayers. But more than that, it should stir our resolve. We live in a culture increasingly hostile to faith, though we’re far from facing the extremes of North Korea. Still, the temptation to remain silent, to blend in or to water down the gospel is real. The courage of North Korean believers should move us, not only to support them, but to imitate them.
Their story is not just one of suffering, but of perseverance. Despite surveillance, indoctrination and propaganda, they’re growing in faith. Though the government tightly controls information and cracks down on any “foreign influence,” including Christian materials, reports indicate that spiritual curiosity is rising. People are turning to fortune-telling and other banned practices out of desperation, revealing a deep hunger for hope. But in hidden corners and quiet whispers, some are turning to Christ.
“We are committed to lay down our lives for the Gospel,” said another North Korean believer. “We will fulfill the commission and we will never forsake the truth.”
These aren’t just powerful words — they’re a call to action. For those of us in America, where we are free to worship, gather and share our faith, the bravery of persecuted Christians is a rebuke to fear and a reminder of what really matters.
When was the last time we thanked God for our freedom, and used it for His glory?
When was the last time we prayed for our brothers and sisters suffering under regimes like North Korea’s?
When was the last time we considered the cost of discipleship, and said yes anyway?
Let’s not waste the freedom we have while others risk their lives for just one page of Scripture. Let us remember those in chains as if we ourselves were suffering (Hebrews 13:3). And let us be inspired by the church in North Korea — not just to advocate and pray, but to live boldly for Christ.
Ryan Brown serves as president and CEO of Open Doors US, one of 25 national Open Doors International (ODI) bases located around the world. Founded in 1955, Open Doors has continued to serve persecuted Christians in more than 70 countries, and is known for its annual World Watch List, the ranking of the top 50 countries where Christians face the most extreme persecution.
