Faithbook: Our Story, Our Song

My earliest childhood memory is that I was already attending church when I was in kindergarten. When I was little, my kindergarten and the church were in the same place, so church life was not separate from my everyday life—it was part of who I was. In my family, community, and church, those early memories are deeply rooted and filled with warmth. I remember when I was very small, my father was a deacon in the church. So I often saw my father working hard for the church, helping with services, supporting others, and being a strong presence of faith. That’s the main reason I came to know the Lord Jesus from such a young age. My earliest experiences of faith were not just taught, they were shown through my father’s actions. My faith has deep roots that go back many generations. My maternal grandfather was a pastor. He became a Christian and later a pastor because of the influence of American missionaries during the Qing Dynasty. Their witness changed his life, and that faith became a fou...

I was born on February 9, 1979, in South Korea, into a Methodist pastor’s family. My story really begins even before I was born. My mother, like Hannah in the Bible, made a vow to God. She prayed that if God gave her a son, she would dedicate him to the Lord’s service. But she never pressured me. My parents never forced me to become a pastor, even though my grandfather, father, and uncle were all in ministry. Instead, they simply showed me what a life devoted to God looked like. That left a lasting impression. Growing up, I experienced God’s presence in personal ways. I was often sick as a child—with tympanitis and arthritis—but I also experienced healing. Those moments drew me closer to God. But it wasn’t until a youth retreat in 1991, when I was 12, that I responded to the gospel in a personal way. My grandfather preached at that retreat, calling us to repentance and to follow Jesus. Something stirred in me. For the first time, I desired to devote my life to Christ. Fast forward to t...

I was born the youngest of eight siblings in a devout Christian family. My grandfather, a man of deep faith and commitment, was always actively involved in the life and service of the church. When a new sanctuary was being constructed in our community, he joyfully donated a bell tower, seeing it as a gift to God and the congregation. However, tragedy struck during the installation process. Determined to contribute with his own hands, he tried to install the bell himself. In a heartbreaking accident, he fell and died inside the church building. His death, though painful, was a testimony to a life poured out for Christ. I often reflect on that moment as an act of mayordom—a sacrificial offering of devotion and legacy in faith. Since childhood, music captured my heart. I particularly loved to sing. It brought me joy, solace, and a sense of closeness to God. My older brothers were also musically gifted, even more so than I. Music seemed to run in our blood. It played a major role in shapin...

I was born into a pastor's home, surrounded by faith yet longing for something deeper. My earliest memories are of church pews and daily devotions, yet I felt distanced from the God my parents loved. As a child, I wrestled with deep anger and painful questions. My relationship with my father was strained, and there were moments I questioned whether even God could change him—or me. That changed when I was eight years old. I heard the testimony of a North Korean girl imprisoned for her faith. Her story of unwavering love for Jesus stirred something in me. That night, I cried out to the God I only knew from a distance. What followed was nothing short of a divine encounter. I saw a panorama of my sins—selfishness, bitterness, hatred—and I wept for three days in repentance and joy. I knew Jesus had died for me. From that moment, faith became personal. Astonishingly, around that same time, my authoritarian father began to change. He became more open, more gentle. I saw firsthand that...

I was born in 1933 and grew up in Dyer Brook, Maine, surrounded by the kind of close-knit, multigenerational family that shaped every part of who I became. We lived under one roof—my parents, my grandparents, and often extended family who came to visit for days or even weeks at a time, especially in the summer. People didn’t think twice about dropping in from across the mountain, and those visits were always welcome. That sense of community and kinship has stayed with me all my life. I had two sisters who were close in age and a brother ten years younger. While we didn’t have elaborate family traditions, our bond was strong. Mealtimes were spent together, and we always looked out for each other. We lived near Smyrna on the main road where the Southern Aroostook school now stands. My earliest church memories come from the little Baptist church on the hill, which is now the Dyer Brook Community Church. I went to Sunday school there. I never had a favorite hymn myself, but I remember my f...

I was born in Mars Hill, Maine, and spent my childhood nearby. Back then, people didn’t travel much. We lived out in the country, where my father worked for a farmer. Our home was modest, and my earliest memories include the anxiety of starting school. I had to take the bus, and when that door shut behind me, I felt overwhelmed and alone. I cried a lot, and my teachers had their hands full. Thankfully, my older sister, five years ahead of me in school, was allowed to sit with me for a while until I got used to it. Eventually, the principal had a firm word with me, and that helped turn things around. Like most kids in those days, I helped out at home. In the fall, I joined my mother in the potato fields. I enjoyed school, especially the social parts—being in exhibitions, acting in the senior play, and dancing at Friday night socials. After graduation in 1953, I completed a business course that taught shorthand and typing. Just as I finished school, Loring Air Force Base was opening....

I was born into a big family—one of eleven children, though my mother lost two before I was born. We grew up in Danforth, Maine. The girls were mostly older, and the four youngest were boys. Life back then was simple but full. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. We were sheltered in a good way, surrounded by people who cared. Church was the heart of our life. We always went to Sunday School. There were five or six churches in Danforth when I was growing up. It was much busier back then. The church was our connection to others. Even though my father didn’t attend, and my mother only occasionally went, she always made sure we kids went.  I remember the warmth of that church community and how people always helped one another. My childhood was shaped by that village—neighbors who gave us little jobs, like errands or light housekeeping. My sisters and I all had someone we worked for. That kind of upbringing stays with you. I had many good friends over the years. Some I’ve lost t...