May the Sacred Heart of Jesus be loved everywhere

Hello, everyone. I am Fr. Richard JunJeong Kim, MSC, from South Korea. I am grateful for the opportunity to share my vocation story today—the tale of my journey marked by God’s grace and my parents’ struggles.

I received my baptism at 18, just before Christmas, during my second year of high school. At that time, none of my family or relatives were Catholic. In Korea, to be baptised in the Catholic Church, you must attend catechism classes every Sunday for six months. It took me two years and three attempts to finish these classes and finally receive baptism. It wasn’t because I was lazy; it was because my parents caught me sneaking around.

The first catechism class started in the first semester of my first year of high school. One day, after finishing the class and coming home, I found my father waiting for me in the living room, his eyes wide with anger. As soon as I walked in, he shouted, “Are you going to church?” He yelled at me all night, demanding that I stop going. I tried to resist, but as a small high school student, I eventually had to kneel down, crying and apologising, promising not to go to church. My father was very strict and wouldn’t stop until I admitted my fault and pledged not to attend church. My parents knew little about the church and thought it was a harmful cult, a place where crazy and disabled people gathered, shouting and giving away their money, ruining their lives. So my first attempt at catechism classes failed.

In the second semester, I enrolled in catechism classes again. This time, I ensured I didn’t provide my phone number to the nuns or the catechist, worried that my father might discover it through a phone call from the church. I pictured a conversation like this:

“Hello, is this the Kim household? This is Geumjeong Cathoilc Church. The baptism ceremony is in three months. Will the parents be attending?”
“What? Church? Don’t ever call this house again!”

So, the second catechism class was completed successfully, with a lot of caution and secrecy. However, just days before the baptism ceremony, my father found out again. He stood in the living room, eyes blazing, shouting, “Are you still going to church? Didn’t I tell you not to go?” The storm began anew. I was so angry that I shouted back, but as a mere high school student, I couldn’t win against him. After being scolded until late at night, I had to kneel, crying and apologising, promising once more not to go to church. The pain was unbearable, and I couldn’t stop crying. I was furious at my father but also felt guilty for being a bad son. I felt utterly alone.

During my second year of high school, I made a third attempt. My school was run by a Catholic foundation, and there was a centre next to the school where nuns provided heart surgeries for children. Some of the nuns there offered catechism classes to a few students. I went to school in the morning, attended classes, then went to the centre for catechism and returned to school for evening self-study before heading home. This time, I managed to complete the catechism classes without being discovered by my parents. The baptism was scheduled for a few days before Christmas. The ceremony was to take place at the church where I had been active since my second year of high school, so many friends, seniors, and juniors came to celebrate with me. I wasn’t tall or particularly handsome, but I was quite popular among the church students, receiving many gifts and flower bouquets.

God will answer your prayers in His time and His way. And even in difficult times, when it seems He is not there, God is walking with you.

However, on the bus ride home with my arms full of gifts and bouquets, I faced an unexpected problem: how to sneak into the house with all these gifts, crosses, and rosaries without being caught. I waited on the rooftop of my apartment building until all the lights in my house were off, then quietly slipped into my room. I began decorating my space with the gifts, hanging bouquets on the walls and placing crosses and rosaries on my desk and computer. The next morning, I went to school as if nothing had happened. But during classes, I couldn’t concentrate at all, worrying about my parents discovering my room. As soon as classes ended, I rushed home, thinking about where to hide the gifts or maybe leaving them at a friend’s house. But the gifts were so beautiful and precious that I wanted to keep them in my room for at least a day or two. Surely, my parents wouldn’t pop into my room during that time, I thought.

However, as soon as I got home, my father was there, waiting for me in the living room. He started shouting again, “Are you still going to church?” He scolded me for a long time, and when I finally went to my room, I found it in a mess. The bouquets were thrown to the floor, the crosses broken, and the rosaries torn apart. The gifts and sacred items were all destroyed and placed in two large plastic bags in the corner of my room. I had been scolded many times before, but seeing the precious gifts and sacred items my friends and juniors had lovingly prepared for me, all destroyed, broke my heart. I argued with my father until dawn, but as a high school student, I eventually had to kneel, crying and promising not to go to church.

Somehow my father seemed to feel a little sorry for me because I cried a lot, he made me a promise. Since it was my last year of high school, he said if I studied hard and got into a good university, he would hold my hand and go to church with me. I promised, but the very next day, I had to break that promise because I had a performance at the church for Christmas, and I was the lead dancer. Time passed, and I got into university. One day, during a meal, I reminded my father of his promise.

“Father, I’m a university student now. You promised to go to church with me.”

But he replied, “You still go to church? I only said that because I thought you’d mature and stop going on your own when you became a university student. You’re still going?”. The storm started again. I was deeply disappointed in my father and continued to attend church secretly.

I studied Economics and Japanese and Japanese literature in University. After graduating, I was working for a financial and accounting department in Samsung. I was there for seven years when I decided to leave the company and join the Sacred Heart Missionary Society. From the time I decided to quit my job to the time I entered the monastery, my family went through a very difficult period for six months. I couldn’t go home, staying in public baths or friends’ houses, and had to avoid my parents who were trying to find me. My mother collapsed several times, and my parents would lie on the garage floor to prevent me from leaving. My mother, who couldn’t drink, would get drunk and cause a scene or try to end her life. Even after entering the monastery, every time the phone rang, my heart would drop, worrying that something had happened at home, that my mother had collapsed again. It was emotionally draining. When I left home for the last time to enter the monastery, my father shouted at my back, “How can you say you’re going to love others when you’re abandoning your parents like this? If anything happens to us, it’s all your fault. Do you think you can live as a priest?”

My father’s words haunted me throughout my monastic life, a constant subject of meditation. When I went home for a week during the holidays, the storms would start again, and my mother treated me like I was invisible, not speaking to or even looking at me. This continued for over seven years.

One day, during a particularly difficult time, a close friend said to me, “Richard, we’ve tried everything we can to persuade your parents for the past ten years. The only thing left now is prayer. Let’s just pray.”

From that day on, I stopped telling people about my struggles and simply asked them to pray for my family, that my parents would come to the church.

Time passed, and my parents still do not attend church. But they are healthy, and I have made my perpetual vows and been ordained as a priest. Looking back now, I realize that my prayers were not answered in the way or at the time I wanted, but God was holding my hand, walking with me through all those difficult times. God protected my parents and me and guided all of us.

Though my parents still do not attend church, I believe that in ways and at times unknown to me, God will continue to guide my family. They have no choice. They don’t tell me to come back any more, but they say dont tell us to come to the church. Friends who know my story consider my vocation a miracle. They say it’s a miracle that I managed to make perpetual vows and be ordained despite my parents’ strong opposition. I think so too.

If you have prayers that haven’t been answered yet, people you cannot forgive, or if you are in despair, I urge you to remember my story. God will answer your prayers in His time and His way. And even in difficult times, when it seems He is not there, God is walking with you. I believe that is why God allowed me to be ordained as a priest, to share this message with you. Let us also hold hands, pray, walk this spiritual journey together. I pray that God’s miracles, both great and small, continue to unfold in your lives. Thank you for listenning to my humble story.

May the Sacred Heart of Jesus be loved everywhere.

Fr. Richard JunJeong Kim, MSC