Korean Messiah: Kim Il Sung and the Christian Roots of North Korea’s Personality Cult ~ By Jonathan Cheng
How a holy trinity of Kim the father, his son Jong Il Kim, and the spirit of Kimilsungism became the anchor of a personality cult
(Knopf/Doubleday Publishing Group, New York, 2026, ISBN #978-1-5247-3349-0)

In the summer of 1998, I traveled to the northeast region of China to visit a unique educational institution. The Yanbian University of Science and Technology (YUST), founded six years before, was the first private and the first foreign university to emerge under Chinese communism. Located in a region populated by many Korean-Chinese, YUST trained the children of the elite in computers, engineering, and architecture, among other specialties. It was also the forerunner of an affiliate that opened in the North Korean capital of Pyongyang a few years later.
YUST was also remarkable because it was established by evangelical Christians from the U.S., something the Chinese government tolerated in exchange for high-quality vocational training. The staff I talked with, all Korean Americans, were happy enough to be working in China, where they were careful to conceal their religious sympathies except in one-on-one interactions with the students. But the hope of most of the faculty, I was told confidentially, was to work in North Korea. Although it was exciting to proselytize covertly in China, the teachers had their hopes pinned on doing God’s work among North Koreans.
Those teachers were oriented toward the mecca of North Korea in part because that region of the world had once witnessed one of the most extraordinary upsurges in conversion to Christianity in the modern era. That upsurge had been suppressed during the period of Japanese rule in the first half of the 20th century before being eliminated altogether in 1945 when communist North Korea began to actively suppress all official religions. The teachers were eager to restore Christianity to its former home in Korea.
At the time, I knew that Pyongyang had once been the “Jerusalem of the East,” that the country’s founder Il Sung Kim had a Christian background, and that some elements of Kim’s ideology drew on religious sources. This was common knowledge among North Korea watchers.
But it was only after reading Jonathan Cheng’s voluminous new account, Korean Messiah, that I can now connect all the dots between the rapid spread of Christianity in 19th-century Korea and the rapid consolidation of Il Sung Kim’s rule in the latter half of the 20th-century.
Journalists rarely have the luxury of digging deep into a topic and then developing an argument across multiple articles. As a former Korea bureau chief of the Wall Street Journal, Cheng relishes this opportunity to dig very deeply into the Christian history of Korea and then develop the connections between Kim and the religion that birthed him across nearly 550 pages (excluding footnotes). It’s not really until more than 200 pages in that young Il Sung Kim even enters the picture. At times, I would have preferred a more journalistic condensation of the subject. But overall, Cheng’s deep dive is an excellent addition to the literature on North Korea.
In that first pre-Kim part of the book, Cheng explores the way missionaries brought Christianity to Korea, braving inauspicious conditions and even, in some cases, courting martyrdom. It was a tumultuous time for Korea, which found itself caught up in the jockeying for geopolitical power among Russia, Japan, and China. Christianity spread quickly in part because it provided a hopeful vision of the meek inheriting the earth. Koreans weren’t exactly meek, but they were collectively weak in the face of their neighboring empires. Many Koreans also found a fighting spirit in Christianity — that of Jesus angrily sweeping the moneychangers out of the temple — which translated into a revolutionary determination in the early 1900s to expel the Japanese occupiers. Several assassins of Japanese officials, for instance, were Christian converts.
Christianity, as Cheng points out, also flourished because it offered a path to modernity, a way around the strict hierarchies of Korean culture that kept women locked away at home and certain castes locked away in poverty. Christian women began to leave their houses and, contrary to centuries of tradition, to eat dinner with their families. The poor also found advocates among the ministers. “When, during one church service in 1895, the noblemen threatened to leave the church unless the butchers were expelled,” Cheng writes. “Rev. Moore let them walk, leading the butchers and the other remaining congregants in a singing of ‘Jesus Loves Me, This I know.’”
In the latter part of the 19th century, missionaries transformed the face of northern Korea. Pyongyang had previously been notorious for its saloons and brothels. A door-to-door campaign in 1905 to convert the city’s residents discovered that 40 percent were already Christians. By that point, the houses of ill repute had largely vanished.
When the Japanese occupation authority tried to impose Shintoism on the population, many Christians fled to neighboring Manchuria in northeast China so that they could continue practicing their religion. Many decades later, some of the descendants of those fleeing Christians would send their children to study at YUST.
The young Il Sung Kim was part of that exodus, and it was in Manchuria where his Christian consciousness and revolutionary mindset developed in tandem. Later, when he returned to North Korea with the victorious Russian army in 1945, Kim would virtually erase his Christian upbringing and wildly exaggerate his revolutionary credentials. As the new Kim-led regime closed churches and expropriated religious properties, Christians fled in droves to the South. Between 1945 and 1950, Cheng reports, a million Christians moved south. In 1950 alone, those religious refugees were responsible for 90 percent of the 2,000 new churches established in South Korea.
Despite Kim’s official anti-Christian doctrine, Cheng points out that revolution and religion continued to intermingle in Kim’s thinking. The particular version of communism that Il Sung Kim would impose on North Korea drew on Christian dogma. A holy trinity of Kim the father, his son Jong Il Kim, and the spirit of Kimilsungism became the anchor of a personality cult. The Ten Commandments became the “Ten Principles of the Monolithic Ideology.” Kim performed miracles, he offered narratives of redemption for the Korean people, and he even displaced Marxism-Leninism with his own Chuch’e (sometimes spelled Juche) ideology of self-reliance. Major edifices devoted to the new state replaced what had been church complexes, with the Kim Il Sung Library rising up where the main Methodist church had been and the huge statue of Kim erected where the Central Presbyterian Church once stood.
Though Cheng doesn’t mention it, Kim’s approach was very similar to the way Christianity took root in Europe, with the cult of Mary replacing earlier sects devoted to female deities, and with churches built on the same sites as pre-Christian sites of worship. The New Testament drew heavily on the Old Testament, and in the Old Testament can be glimpsed remnants of earlier religions (for instance, in all the names of Yahweh).
Perhaps the most interesting part of Cheng’s book, however, comes later in the elder Kim’s life, when he experiences an apparent change of heart about the Christianity that he ruthlessly suppressed on taking power. In the memoirs he wrote in his final decades, Kim was “not merely acknowledging his family’s ties with the Christian faith but describing, in anecdote after anecdote, for hundreds of pages, his deep immersion in the church and his gratitude to the Christians in his life — tales told with an unmistakable sense of wistfulness,” Cheng writes. At the same time, Kim was meeting with various representatives of the Christian community, authorizing the construction of churches to satisfy outside religious institutions, and even mending fences with previous religious adversaries like the deeply anti-communist Rev. Moon of the Unification Church.
Pyongyang engaged with religious figures even further on the fringes. In Guyana, for instance, cult leader Jim Jones established a compound for his followers called Jonestown where he “read aloud from North Korean publications extolling the Great Leader, screened propaganda films from Pyongyang for his followers and even invited North Korean agents to preach the virtues of Kimilsungism.”
Jonestown, of course, self-destructed. The Kim dynasty, meanwhile, lives on in North Korea, in part because the state continues to exercise tyrannical control over the population. Kim also managed, through his skillful and syncretic adaptation of Christianity, to instill in North Koreans that his regime was also a belief system. “More than half of North Koreans in a 2011 survey of more than 100 North Koreans resettled in the South said they still feel pride in Chuch’e ideology and supported Kim family rule,” Cheng points out.
Although anecdotal evidence suggests that substantially fewer North Koreans — inside or outside the country — feel the same way about Kim’s grandson, Jong Un Kim, the endurance of the Kim dynasty across three generations cannot be attributed solely to brute force. Cheng’s book is an indispensable guide to understanding the methods by which the North Korean regime captured at least some of the hearts and minds of the residents of what had once been one of the most rapidly Christianized parts of the world.






















