Before going on this trip, i knew a fair amount about NK. I was aware of the oppressive regime and the resulting prison camps. While I didn't know extensive information about them, i knew they are there; that they exist and my Christian brothers and sisters (and others seen as threats to the regime) are held there and exposed to cruelty though hard labor, scientific experimentation and torture. Besides this appalling situation (compared frequently to the soviet gulags and nazi camps) there is widespread malnutrition and starvation in the country. All of this weighs on my heart now- as it did then. Of course, this isn't the NK i saw with my eyes when i went there. I saw what visitors are allowed to see: i visited a restricted region, in a controlled environment. Granted, there was still plenty there to stir me and the team to prayer! The poverty, fear, deception and control were evident. But I was continually haunted by what we weren't seeing.
Everywhere we went, I noticed we were surrounded by beautiful green hills. From the city to the country, everyplace was hemmed in by green hills. If i hadn't hiked one and found it to be quite real, i think i would have questioned whether they were natural, or some kind of artificial barrier to limit our view of the area. I think the Truman Show effect is that believable there. But indeed, i observed that the terrain is naturally hilly. So, i would gaze at those hills and wonder: how far apart are we- my brothers and sisters and i ?
Those prison camps are real. They exist. They aren't nowhere... so they have to be somewhere. Somewhere over them thar hills. How far, Lord? How far apart are we, my brothers and sisters and i?
And i would look out at the hills and pray for them, heavy and haunted in my wondering.
Last night i was looking at published satellite imaging and research about the prison camps of NK and got my answer: the city we stayed in was less than thirty miles from a well documented labor camp. My heart sinks every time i think of it. I was right to look to the hills. They were so near. My imprisoned brothers and sisters and i were less than thirty miles apart.
Thirty miles.
I am glad Our Father reminded me of them. I am glad when i saw the hills I knew the Family was out there. I am glad i prayed for their faith, encouragement, perseverance and their bold witness. I am glad i dreamed of their freedom. But still my heart is so burdened when i think that i was within those borders, so near to such suffering and kept so apart from it. But the Lord knows. And He heard my prayers there. He hears them still. And He touches His children, somewhere over them thar hills.