prison

Remembering and Visiting North Korean Men in Prison

Our work is rooted in a specific mission: helping and sustaining North Korean refugee women and their children. But on a recent trip to South Korea, one of our staffers was given a rare opportunity to see a side of the refugee experience we don’t often encounter—incarcerated North Korean refugee men in South Korea.

Our visit that day was to Daejeon Prison, the largest correctional facility in South Korea, holding an estimated 6,000 inmates. Our staffer was accompanying “Pastor Y”, a man who regularly traveled all over South Korea to visit eight or nine prisons throughout South Korea and meet with North Korean refugee men. Before entering, they stopped at a local store to buy several boxes of Choco-Pies—a small gesture of humanity for men living in a world of stark realities.

Daejeon Correctional Facility

Inside, we learned, life is contained and isolating. Men are housed four to six per room, and these other faces become their entire world for the length of their sentences. A small lifeline of grace is provided through another ministry, which provides North Korean inmates with what prisoners jokingly call "payday"—a monthly stipend of 30,000 to 50,000 KRW (about $25-$40) for snacks and toiletries. It’s enough to create excitement for recipients and their cell mates, who often receive the fringe benefits of this monthly gift.

In a small, cluttered conference room, our staffer and Pastor Y spent the next two hours meeting with three men, each carrying the weight of a journey that didn't end when they reached freedom.

Incarcerated North Korean Refugee Men

The first was a tall, remorseful man who took what ended up being a harrowing 20-day trek through China, Laos and Thailand (referred to as the “10,000 kilometer journey” which speaks to the total distance traveled from North Korea to South Korea) with his wife several years before. They had built a stable life in South Korea, with the addition of two sons, now 8 and 10. He found steady work and a community of North Korean soccer league. But one night, after a game and dinner, a single, regrettable decision to try drugs with the group led to a police bust. He now spends his days in jail, holding onto letters from his wife, sons, and even his former boss, who has promised to rehire him upon his release in October 2026. Every weekend, his wife and boys make the six-hour round trip to see him. He told us he begs them not to come, pained by the burden he has placed on them, but they never fail to show up—a testament to a love that survives prison walls.

Next, we met a young man of 20. He had arrived in South Korea at 14 with his sister, following their parents who had already defected and settled in South Korea. He spoke without a trace of a North Korean accent, a kid who seemed to have assimilated well. But he was serving a five-year sentence for acting as a drug mule. By other North Korean contacts, he had been sent to Cambodia to bring back a package, and the police were waiting for him the moment he landed at Incheon. He seemed like a good kid caught in a terrible situation, and he expressed his thankfulness that he was caught on his first attempt and had never used the drugs himself. The prison worker who monitored us remarked to all of us in that room that if he hadn't been stopped then, his life surely would have been ruined.

Finally, an older man of 45 sat before us, a deep chip on his shoulder. He defected first with the hopes of bringing the rest of his family once he had settled in South Korea. This man believes his wife and daughter may still be alive in North Korea, but he has no way of knowing. After arriving in the South, he paid the same broker who helped him escape to get a phone and money to his family. The broker vanished, and so did his hope. He spoke of the prejudice he faced for his North Korean heritage, which led to fights and, ultimately, his incarceration. He was preparing to serve an extra 90 days to work off the debt from damages caused in a bar fight—a debt paid at a rate of 100,000 KRW per day of added time. He mentioned he was looking forward to the work of a lawyer who promised a retrial, and Pastor Y’s concern was immediate. Recognizing the hallmarks of a scam, the pastor gently steered him away, providing him with a list of reputable churches and other ministries in South Korea, as trustworthy resources for  looking into the validity of a retrial and even attempting to get information about his wife and daughter.

I was in prison and you came to visit me.
— Matthew 25:36b (ESV)

As we met with each man, Pastor Y actively took notes including writing down the names and numbers of the men’s wives and children. It sounded like he had tried contacting one of the wives after his last visit three months ago without success, but he would try again. It was amazing to see that this ministry doesn't end at the prison gate. He visits the families, offers support to the wives, and helps care for the children left behind. It was effectively a family ministry that reached far beyond these incarcerated North Korean men. The choices these men made, whether out of desperation, foolishness, or trauma, created ripple effects that directly impact the women and children we serve. The trip was a reminder that the journey to freedom is complex, and for some, the greatest challenges begin long after they’ve crossed the border. While Crossing Borders is experienced in caring for women in difficult circumstances, it was eye opening to see firsthand a lesser known population of refugees, grappling with a different kind of imprisonment, and the quiet, crucial work being done to hold their families together.

Prayer for North Korean Refugees: Laughter Facing Death

When “Joseph” first came to Crossing Borders for help, he was covered in sores. He was a North Korean refugees had just been released from prison in North Korea. It was so crowded there that bodies would cover the concrete floor at night. Inmates would punch him as people jockeyed for position. His body was infected from sleeping on the floor, which people used as their toilets. During the day he would get beaten by the guards. Seven years ago, Joseph shared a meal with our Crossing Borders staff members. And as he shared about the difficulty of being a North Korean refugee in China and the horrendous conditions of his incarceration in North Korea, Joseph said, “I’ve never laughed as much in my life as I did in prison.”

“If you don’t laugh, you’ll die,” he said.

Joseph became a believer when he first made the dangerous journey to China. He had the fortune of hearing the gospel through missionaries who ministered to him. It was after becoming a believer that he decided to return to North Korea , as a North Korean refugee, to see his siblings. It was in this journey that Joseph was sent to prison.

We have seen it many times, the incredible unflappability of North Korean refugees in the direst of circumstances, especially among those who believe. This is surely a testament to the superhuman strength promised in the Bible when believers experience “trials of many kinds.”

As you pray with Crossing Borders for North Korean refugees and their children this week, let’s pray for strength. As North Koreans continue to suffering at the hands of a regime who does not care for them, as many still lie hopeless in prison, as the church is still being persecuted, please pray for an unshakeable strength that comes from the Lord.

Prayer for North Korean Refugees: Imprisonment

The topic of imprisonment comes up a lot in our work with North Korean refugees. One refugee woman we helped reported to us that she was imprisoned in a gulag in North Korea for illegally trading in minerals with Chinese businessmen because her family didn’t have enough to eat. She subsisted on 24 kernels of corn each day in prison. When they let her out she immediately fled to China. Through God's grace in circumstances, she was later placed under our care.

Another North Korean refugee escaped her abusive husband and family after she was sold to them in the mid-2000s. Her husband’s family beat her for not knowing how to speak Mandarin. They beat her if she didn’t cook Chinese food right. She was raped repeatedly by her husband and her husband’s teenage son. Upon escape, she was also taken in by Crossing Borders.

Many refugees found daily life in North Korea stifling. They were always being watched, monitored by their neighbors, family members and even their own children (children are taught at school to report their parents if they speak ill of the regime). North Koreans are denied freedom of thought, movement and speech.

The North Korean refugees we’ve spoken with in South Korea have more money than they have ever seen in their whole lives. The government helps them with housing, education and job training. And yet there is a profound emptiness in the North Korean refugee community in South Korea. Some report discrimination. Some say they are depressed from the trauma of what they have endured in China and North Korea. Other North Korean refugees say they just miss their families in North Korea. Whatever it is, they too are in a prison of grief and distress.

There is an even greater imprisonment that all North Koreans feel whether they are in a gulag in North Korea, whether they are in China and afraid of being captures, or whether they are free in South Korea. We believe this is a spiritual imprisonment. They in bondage to sin and it is our job as believers to pray for their spiritual freedom in Christ.

As we pray this week, let us remember the prison that North Koreans all over the world are trapped in. Let's pray for light to overtake the darkness.