How God Taught Me to Linger

A Friday night in November of 2004 changed my life forever. It was the night God’s presence filled a basement room packed with Korean boarding school students. Nestled at the base of three hills, surrounded by rice paddies and farms, the Christian school where I taught in the Korean countryside didn’t seem like the most likely place for a visitation from God 

The school was highly disciplined and academically rigorous. Students had very little free time, with programs from early morning until late at night, chapel on Wednesdays, and Saturday classes until noon. The teachers loved Jesus, but for most students, religious activity was just that—activity. Bodies were in attendance but hearts weren’t in it.

I arrived as a 23-year-old who knew nothing about Korean culture and had never been to Asia. Culture shock didn’t wait for a honeymoon phase. It hit me within three hours after landing. What was I doing here?

Eventually, I met the only other foreign teacher at the school: a Canadian named Kendra. She was about ten years older than me and had already served at the school for six years. She loved the students and had a passion for revival. She longed for them to know Jesus—not just to go through the motions.

We began praying together for a move of God. Kendra started a voluntary Friday night worship time in the basement. A handful of students would gather to sing for about 45 minutes, and then she would share a short message from Scripture. 

As Kendra moved forward with Friday night worship, we prayed together that God would touch the students’ hearts. Hungry for more, Kendra began a 40-day juice fast. We kept praying for God to pour out His Spirit and awaken love for Jesus. The night she ended her fast was a Friday. We gathered again with about 20 students. Two of them led worship with guitars. At some point, Kendra lay prostrate on the floor in worship.

When the music ended, it was time for her to speak, but she didn’t get up. Lying facedown, she said, “Peter, I can’t get off the floor. You share.”

It was an awkward moment, but I looked at the students and began to talk to them about the joy of the Lord. As I wrapped up, for reasons I don’t recall, I said, “Let’s pray for God to give us joy right now. Raise your hands and pray.” All the students began praying out loud at once.

After a moment I paused and asked, “Do you have joy?”

They stared back blankly.

“Let’s pray again,” I urged.

We prayed again. I asked, “Do you have joy?” Still nothing.

We prayed a third time.

Finally, one student said, “Yes!” And then—it happened.

The joy of the Lord fell on us. We began praising and praying. Laughter filled our mouths. Tears streamed down faces. Some couldn’t stand and fell to the floor. It was as if Jesus had entered the room. The weight of academic pressure, the loneliness of being far from home—it all gave way to the river of life that flows from the throne.

We could have stayed all night, but curfew sent the students back to the dorms. The next night we met again, and more students were touched. After that session, an 8th grader named Tyler told me emphatically, “We need to worship and pray all night long.”

“You’ll have to ask the dorm teacher for permission,” I said.

Tyler ran off and returned a few minutes later, dejected. “He said we have to go to bed.”

I had never seen an 8th grade boy disappointed about being told he couldn’t stay up all night to pray. Clearly God was at work. 

As I was walking across campus one afternoon, I came across an 8th grade girl named Angela. Her face was bright, and her smile was beaming. I asked her why she was so happy—assuming she’d been to town during our afternoon free time.

She looked at me and said, “God loves me!”

I hadn’t realized she’d been in the meeting. But in that simple sentence, I saw the answer to our prayers. God was touching hearts.

Sunday, we met again. The meetings were charismatic in nature, but the school was not. Excited students called their parents to tell them what was happening. Concerned parents called the chaplain. A staff meeting was called, and the special worship times were shut down.

The administration had concerns, and truthfully, there may have been some moments that were out of order. But the fruit was undeniable. The students were glowing. They wanted to read the Bible. They wanted to pray. They had been touched by the Holy Spirit.

I was heartbroken when the meetings were shut down. I was told not to lay hands on students when praying for them. But the students had no such restrictions—and as they laid hands on one another and prayed, they continued to experience the power and presence of God.

The semester ended, my contract concluded, and I returned to the States. But I was forever marked by those nights.

Since then, I’ve longed to help people linger in pursuit of God’s presence. I’ve tasted and seen that the Lord is good. I’ve glimpsed His glory. I know what can happen when the Holy Spirit manifests the presence of God in a room.

God taught me about the power of the Holy Spirit, and He taught me to pray in South Korea. A little less than two years later, He introduced me to Bo at Starbucks in Seoul, but that is another story.

There were many more encounters to come, but nearly 20 years later, both Bo and I are more passionate than ever about the presence of God.

We desire to cultivate a church culture marked by deep longing for God, overflowing worship, and transformative prayer. A weekly worship and prayer gathering will be at the heart of our church—a space to praise, to repent, to intercede for revival, and to pray for one another. We expect people will be healed, restored, and set ablaze to share the Gospel and make disciples.