A Way With Words | One of Kim's greatest joys is that 80 percent of the people in church mission departments across Korea are alumni of Korea Campus Crusade. Slim and dignified, he preaches with a poetic lyricism that make his messages sound like literature.

Two years ago, thousands of students listened raptly as Kim Joon Gon, director of Korea Campus Crusade for Christ, spoke of North Korea. Not only were the people of the north in desperate spiritual need, he said, they were starving. And who better to help than Christians from South Korea?

Though the silver-haired Kim seemed frail, steel laced his voice and zeal for Jesus fired his soul. Outlining a plan to send 10,000 milk goats to the north, he explained that goat's milk, which is easily digested, could help fend off starvation. His poetic, passionate words, mingled with dry humor, found their mark.

After three days of fasting, the 12,000 South Korean students dug out wallets and gave their won—nearly $100,000 worth—to launch the project. Campus Crusade of New Zealand and Switzerland provided the goats. The North Korean government allowed the first shipment of 450 goats to enter as a pilot project.

On a crisp, clear morning last fall, as Kim arrived at the Korea Campus Crusade complex, the milk-goat project was on his mind. He removed his shoes at the entrance, in Korean custom, then signaled an assistant to bring tea.

"There is great hope for North Korea," explains Kim, 79, ensconced in his book-lined office. "We must feed people first, for they are hungry, but I believe North Korea will come to Christ faster than South Korea has."

For nearly five decades now, Kim's driving desire has been to see the Korean people turn to Christ. That drive has given the one-time teacher of Korean literature such prominence that he was named co-chairman of the 2002 soccer World Cup host committee.

"Dr. Kim is the [leading] representative of Korean Christianity," says Rev. Lee Mahn-Shin, president of the Christian Council of Korea. "Most Koreans think of him as the model of a Christian, a man of prayer who loves our nation and our people."

Yet Kim would think of himself as a humble servant of God. He tells of the day his father, a Confucian scholar, taught him to write. His father grasped the boy's hand, which held a brush, and guided it in drawing the graceful Chinese characters. "Good job, son," he said at the end of the page.

"But I didn't draw those letters," says Kim. "He did. And anything I have done is like those letters—God did it through me."

In his early days, Kim followed in his father's footsteps, considering Jesus, Socrates, Confucius and Buddha as the four great saints of history. Around age 14, an image of Christ on the Cross stirred his soul. He began to read the Bible, and in time became a believer in Christ as his Savior.

During the Japanese occupation in 1944, Kim was conscripted into the Japanese army, like many young Koreans. When told to worship the emperor and the gods of Shintoism, however, he refused, and suffered brutal beatings. Kim escaped. Fleeing to China, he made his way through snowy mountain passes to Russia, where he met a Korean pastor. Kim spent a year with that family, sharing meager rations of one meal per day and spending most of his time in prayer.

During that time, God gave Kim the vision to help carry the gospel to Korea. "I vowed to God I would commit my whole life to the evangelization of my nation if He would spare my life," he says.

Six years later, during the Korean War, Kim fled to his father's home on a small island. On October 3, 1950, the Communists arrived. Using bamboo clubs and spears, they savagely beat each person, and Kim watched his father and his wife die.

Kim himself was left for dead. But he survived, crawling off into the hills to hide. "I hated the Communist militia," says Kim. "But as I prayed in hiding for myself and for the liberation of Korea, the Lord visited me and gave me love, and a desire to forgive the enemies who had tortured and killed my family. He liberated me."

After the war, Kim dedicated himself to helping reach Communists and evangelizing his nation. In 1957, he moved to the United States to study at Fuller Theological Seminary in California. There he met Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade. "Bill Bright and his disciples seemed to be a special kind of people that came out of the book of Acts," says Kim. "For the first time I experienced being filled with the Spirit."

Kim accepted Bill's challenge to launch the first overseas ministry of Campus Crusade, beginning Korea Campus Crusade in 1958.

But those were difficult days for Korea. The country lay in ruins, devastated by the Korean War. Barely 4 percent of the population called themselves Christian. The discouraged people considered themselves worthless.

Yet Kim spoke of hope through Jesus Christ. "The destiny of a nation," he proclaimed, "is determined by its choice of religion."

Wanting to help change his country's destiny, Kim began evangelizing students, mostly nominal Buddhists. His eloquent messages also galvanized believers, and thousands committed themselves to helping reach Korea for Christ. Soon he added Campus Crusade training in evangelism and in living in the power of the Spirit.

This training culminated in EXPLO 74, considered by many the "Pentecost of the Korean church." EXPLO, a weeklong conference, brought together 323,419 people—nearly 12 percent of the entire Korean Christian population at the time. During the following year, as Korean believers applied their training and explained the gospel to others, the Korean church grew from 2.8 million to nearly 4 million.

"When you take the Koreans' fervency in prayer," says Nils Becker, an American who helped Kim give Campus Crusade training in the '70s, "and combine it with training in evangelism and discipleship, it leads to explosive growth."

Today about 25 percent of the 46 million people of South Korea follow Christ, with up to 35 percent in large cities like Seoul. Crosses dot the skyline, and the city shuts down on Sunday mornings.

Despite the growth, critics have often opposed the strong-willed Kim. And in the early days, churches were leery of Campus Crusade efforts, worried they might be a cult along the lines of the Moonies. But Kim is nothing if not persistent, and he stuck to the vision God had given him to help Koreans turn to Christ.

The key, he believes, has been faith and prayer. "Faith and prayer are like the two wheels of a cart," says Kim gently. "We need to believe in a larger God. After God gives the vision, our faith must be equal to God's fact." And Kim himself is known as a man of prayer, fasting one meal each day, and often spending extended time in prayer and fasting.

In 1980 Korea Campus Crusade hosted the World Evangelization Crusade, an event drawing together nearly 2.5 million people. "When the Korean church needed someone to lead this crusade," says Gen. Paul Rader, former international leader of the Salvation Army and one-time missionary in Korea, "they looked to Dr. Kim. He's known for his steady Christian statesmanship, and has always had the capacity to think big for God."

"I just transferred Bill Bright's vision to Korea," says Kim quietly. "It's beyond measure how much the seed of Campus Crusade for Christ, planted in our country, has influenced the spiritual destiny of the Korean people and nation."

Later, at an early-morning coffee-shop rendezvous, Kim speaks of the future. Flagging the waitress down, he orders tea but eats nothing—fasting, no doubt. His eyes shine with a faraway look. His lips crinkle in a smile: "I have health problems—my back, my liver. All my brothers died of liver problems. And I'm packing to leave this earth, as one packs his luggage. There are so many things left to do, but God has taught me I'm only given one day at a time."

When Kim turned 70—a significant milestone in Korean culture—his friends threw a party for him. "Don't make a big fuss," said the aging leader, so the gathering included just his closest friends and family. When asked to say a few words, Kim spoke of the need for the total evangelization of Korea.

Jeong Insoo, one of those Kim has mentored spiritually and now director of Campus Crusade in East Asia, was astonished. He thought it inappropriate for the occasion. "We were all his disciples," says Jeong, "and some had heard that message hundreds of times." After some reflection, however, he realized it was perfectly appropriate, for this was most on his friend's heart. "It was a great lesson," says Jeong today. "Dr. Kim is totally committed to reach every person in Korea, and then the world."