Sung-Deuk Oak
[북한의 김일성 체제와 기독교]
나와 몇 년간 교류한 WSJ의 조나단 쳉 기자가 <북한과 기독교>라는 책을 곧 출간하는데, 그 전에 이 기사를 썼다. 책은 내 글을 많이 인용한다. 주지는 미국 (근본주의) 기독교가 오늘날 북한 김일성 체제를 만드는데 일조했다는 내용이다. 책의 일부에 불과하지만, 기사를 대충 요약한다.
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The Surprising Source of North Korea’s Enduring Power: One of the world’s most isolated, misunderstood countries was built on the cult of personality of its Eternal Leader. American Christianity helped shape that cult.
북한의 지속적인 권력, 그 놀라운 원천: 세계에서 가장 고립되고 오해받는 나라 중 하나인 북한은 '영원한 수령'의 개인숭배 위에 세워졌다. 미국 기독교는 그 숭배 체제를 형성하는 데 일조했다.
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1. 북한 권력의 근간: 개인숭배
북한은 마르크스-레닌주의라는 공산주의 이데올로기를 넘어, 김일성을 신적인 존재로 떠받드는 '영원한 수령'에 대한 개인숭배를 통해 국가를 유지한다. 이 시스템은 단순한 정치 체제를 넘어 종교적인 성격을 띤다.
2. '동양의 예루살렘' 평양
20세기 초 평양은 개신교 선교의 중심지였으며, 김일성의 가족들 역시 독실한 기독교 신자였다. 당시 북한 지역에 뿌리 깊게 박혀 있던 기독교적 전통과 조직 문화는 이후 북한 정권이 대중을 선동하고 조직하는 데 중요한 기초가 되었다.
3. 기독교 형식의 차용
기사는 북한이 기독교의 예배 형식, 찬송가, 고백 성사, 성경적 절대주의 등을 그대로 가져와 수령 숭배에 이식했다고 분석한다. 즉, 하나님이 차지했던 자리를 수령으로 대체함으로써 종교적 충성심을 국가적 충성심으로 전환한 것이다.
4. 결론 및 시사점
북한이 국제적 고립 속에서도 오랫동안 권력을 유지할 수 있었던 비결은, 미국 기독교의 영향을 받아 형성된 이 '종교적 권력 구조'에 있다. 북한의 체제는 단순한 독재가 아니라 기독교적 서사와 구조가 기묘하게 뒤섞여 만들어진 결과물이다.
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남한 기독교도 개인 숭배와 세습 체제라는 구조를 만들었다. 북한 체제와 데칼코마니요, 남한 사회의 "기생충" 구조를 보여준다. 이 기사와 나올 책은 어쩌면 남한 기독교에 대한 비판서이기도 하다.
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이란과 같은 신정 체체인 북한은 앞으로 미국과 어떤 관계를 맺을 것인가? 이 기사가 암시하는 바는 무엇인가?
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미국은 한반도의 분단과 북한 김일성 숭배 세습 체제를 만든 책임을 지고 있고, 따라서 그 해결과 한반도 평화를 위해서 노력해야 할 책임이 있다.
https://www.wsj.com/.../the-surprising-source-of-north...
wsj.com
The Surprising Source of North Korea’s Enduring Power
The Surprising Source of North Korea’s Enduring Power
One of the world’s most isolated, misunderstood countries was built on the cult of personality of its Eternal Leader. American Christianity helped shape that cult.
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North Koreans bow before a statue of “Eternal President” Kim Il Sung, left, next to a statue of his son Kim Jong Il. The former leader replaced Marxism-Leninism with a cult of personality durable enough to hand down to successive generations. KIM WON JIN/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE/GETTY IMAGES
By Jonathan Cheng
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April 10, 2026 11:00 pm ET
In the short history of world Communism, North Korea has always stood apart.
Stalin’s Soviet Union is gone. Mao Zedong’s China has liberalized and integrated itself into the global economy. But not North Korea. In the eight decades following World War II, the country carved a unique path among the nations of the former Soviet bloc as the one country that has endured—largely in the same mold in which it was first fashioned under state founder Kim Il Sung.
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TRANSCRIPT: Interview with ‘Korean Messiah’ author Jonathan Cheng
Author of the forthcoming book talks about Kim Il-Sung’s Christian roots, and what he uncovered from rare archives and on-the-ground visits to the world’s most isolated and least understood country
Mar 07, 2026
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By: Majid Maqbool
Jonathan Cheng, the Wall Street Journal’s China bureau chief and former Korea bureau chief, graduated from Princeton University with a history degree and rose through WSJ’s ranks from Hong Kong intern to leading coverage of the Korean Peninsula. In between, he visited North Korea twice, in 2013 and 2017. His forthcoming book, Korean Me…
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Korean Messiah: Kim Il Sung and the Christian Roots of North Korea's Personality Cult by Jonathan Cheng (Author) Format: Kindle Edition
A landmark history of North Korea, told through the rise of the Kim dynasty and its surprising ties to American Christianity—a spectacular, penetrating account of the Hermit Kingdom • A Foreign Policy Most Anticipated Book of 2026
“How do personality cults take hold? What happens when leaders mix politics and faith to demand immense sacrifices? Jonathan Cheng’s magnificent tale poses questions about the world far beyond North Korea. This utterly eye-opening history deciphers a defining pattern of global politics in the 21st century.” —Evan Osnos, National Book Award-winning author of Age of Ambition: Chasing Fortune, Truth, and Faith in the New China
For nearly eight decades, North Korea has marched defiantly to its own beat, shaking off its Soviet and Chinese sponsors to emerge as the world’s most enigmatic nation—a nuclear-armed state ruled by a dictatorial dynasty. Underpinning the state is a personality cult more soaked in religiosity than those constructed by Stalin or Mao—one that traces its roots back to the Christian fervor of post–Civil War America.
Jonathan Cheng, the Wall Street Journal’s China bureau chief and former Korea bureau chief, takes us deep inside Pyongyang, a city once so dominated by Christianity that it was known as the “Jerusalem of the East.” Cheng introduces us to Samuel Moffett, a Presbyterian missionary from Madison, Indiana, who would venture into Pyongyang at the end of the nineteenth century and build a remarkable following—one that would include the Kim family that today presides over one of the world’s harshest persecutors of the Christian faith.
At the center of this story is North Korea’s founder, Kim Il Sung, son of two fervent Christians and progenitor of an ideology known as Kimilsungism, an exercise in idolatry that has elevated him, and his successor son and grandson, to Christlike status, from the humble manger where he was born to the subway seat on which the venerated leader once placed his posterior, cordoned off as if it were a religious relic.
Drawing on letters, diaries, and never-before-unearthed archival material that temper and often contradict the glorious historical record promoted by Kim Il Sung’s legions of hagiographers, Korean Messiah tells the true story of a country shrouded in fictions.
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Print length751 pages
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Review
"Provocative and fascinating, Korean Messiah casts fresh light on North Korea. Jonathan Cheng shows how this country, more hostile to religion than any in the world, was built on a bedrock of Christianity by its founder Kim Il Sung, who discarded the evangelical faith of his family and harnessed its power to create a cult of personality that has endured into the third generation. It's a contrarian approach to North Korea that is nonetheless convincingly argued and meticulously documented." —Barbara Demick, author of Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea
“How do personality cults take hold? What happens when leaders mix politics and faith to demand immense sacrifices? Jonathan Cheng’s magnificent tale poses questions about the world far beyond North Korea. This utterly eye-opening history deciphers a defining pattern of global politics in the 21st century.” —Evan Osnos, New Yorker staff writer, National Book Award-winning author of Age of Ambition: Chasing Fortune, Truth, and Faith in the New China
“Korean Messiah is a long-overdue and important addition to our understanding of contemporary North Korea. Cheng expertly fills in another missing piece of the DPRK puzzle.” —Adam Johnson, Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Orphan Master’s Son
“More than any book in memory, Korean Messiah provides an answer to the essential riddle that is North Korea, of how a personality cult so powerful it can pass down through generations came to be. Cheng has produced a work as magisterial as it is fascinating, and it should be required reading for all those who hope to understand the modern-day Hermit Kingdom.” —Scott Anderson, author of King of Kings
“Journalists have been telling the same stories about North Korea for decades, but with Korean Messiah, Jonathan Cheng has done something remarkable: Shown us how Kim Il Sung weaponized his Christian upbringing in the ‘Jerusalem of the East’ to gain power and hold onto it despite the odds. This is important reading for understanding how the North Korean regime has managed to persist.” —Anna Fifield, Asia-Pacific editor at The Washington Post and author of The Great Successor: The Divinely Perfect Destiny of Brilliant Comrade Kim Jong Un
“Jonathan Cheng illuminates an important but little understood layer of the mystery of North Korea: how the ruling Kim family drew from Christianity to create one of the most repressive regimes in modern history. This is a fascinating account of the lost community of Presbyterian missionaries from America who transformed Pyongyang into a city known back then as the ‘Jerusalem of the East,’ and their lasting impact on North Korea even as the regime seeks to stamp out Christianity from everyday life today.” —Jean H. Lee, former Pyongyang bureau chief at the Associated Press
"This is an extraordinary book. Jonathan Cheng analyses in minute detail the influence on the young Kim Il Sung of the staunchly Christian family in which he grew up, the profound impact of this upbringing on the way that he and his successors have ruled North Korea since, and the efforts of North Korean propagandists to strip these influences from the official narrative. He carefully dissects the religious roots of many of North Korea's current practices and shows why, having stolen so much from Christianity, the regime is so anxious to prevent the faith itself from reestablishing a presence in North Korea. This is a very valuable contribution to our understanding of this deeply puzzling country." —John Everard, former UK ambassador to North Korea
“Korean Messiah is truly a revelation for understanding one of the most opaque, and dangerous, regimes on the planet. Jonathan Cheng’s indefatigable research digs up the Christian roots of the dynasty forged by Kim Il Sung and exposes the curious ways in which a missionary mindset shapes the country under his grandson, Kim Jong Un. Fusing the rigor of a historian with the style of a journalist, Korean Messiah tells the unlikely story of how Christianity accidentally shaped a communist dictatorship.” —John Delury, Asia Society senior fellow, coauthor of Wealth and Power: China’s Long March to the Twenty-first Century
"Jonathan Cheng has stitched together a masterpiece—dazzling in its journalistic storytelling, rich in historical texture, and illuminating in its portrait of the world’s strangest dictatorship. It seems an irony of all ironies that North Korea’s Communist dynasty owes its identity and longevity to Christian proselytizing. But Korean Messiah shows us this is no mere quirk of history—rather, it’s one of the most vivid illustrations of how dogmatic faith and personality cults can consume our politics and capture our societies." —Ishaan Tharoor, World View columnist at the Washington Post
“An eye-opening view of North Korea’s apocalyptic, messianic, weird—and Christian-based—cult of personality, [with] fascinating insight into the birth of the moral equivalent of a totalitarian theocracy.” —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“This thorough and fascinating work is essential for anyone interested in the history of North Korea . . . Cheng argues convincingly that, while crafting his cult of personality, Kim [Il-sung] nevertheless drew on the Christian lessons, rituals, and models of devotion that he learned at church from childhood.” —Library Journal (starred review)
About the Author
JONATHAN CHENG is the China bureau chief for The Wall Street Journal, and was previously the Korea bureau chief, running coverage of the Korean peninsula, including politics and society in both North and South Korea. A native of Toronto, he lives in Beijing. He has traveled to North Korea twice.
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Korean Messiah: Kim Il Sung and the Christian Roots of North Korea's Personality Cult
Publication date : 14 April 2026
Publication date : 14 April 2026
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요청하신 도서 <한국의 메시아: 김일성과 북한 우상 숭배의 기독교적 뿌리>에 대한 요약과 평론입니다. 세진님, 말씀하신 지침에 따라 요약과 평론 부분은 <해라> 체를 사용하여 작성했습니다.
<한국의 메시아: 김일성과 북한 우상 숭배의 기독교적 뿌리> 요약 및 평론
1. 요약: 붉은 왕국 뒤에 숨겨진 십자가의 그림자
조너선 정의 저서는 북한의 김일성 주체사상과 그 우상화 체제가 단순한 마르크스-레닌주의의 변종이 아니라, 기독교적 전통과 구조를 교묘하게 복제하고 변형시킨 결과물임을 역사적, 신학적 관점에서 추적한다.
기독교적 배경과 초기 생애 김일성의 가계는 독실한 기독교 집안이었다. 그의 외조부 강돈욱은 장로교 장로였고, 어머니 강반석의 이름 역시 베드로의 이름인 <반석>에서 유래했다. 어린 시절 김일성은 평양의 기독교 환경 속에서 성장하며 예배의 형식, 찬송의 선율, 그리고 성경적 서사 구조를 체득했다. 저자는 이러한 배경이 훗날 김일성이 자신을 신격화하는 과정에서 무의식적 혹은 의도적으로 기독교적 메커니즘을 차용하게 만든 근간이라고 분석한다.
정치적 메시아주의의 탄생 북한은 성경의 삼위일체론을 수령(성부), 당(성자), 인민(성령)의 구조로 치환했다. 김일성은 해방 정국의 혼란 속에서 고통받는 민족을 구원하러 온 <메시아>로 포장되었으며, 그의 항일 투쟁사는 성경의 출애굽기나 복음서의 고난기와 유사한 서사 구조를 갖게 된다. 주체사상은 교리화되었고, 십계명은 <당의 유일사상체계 확립을 위한 10대 원칙>으로 변주되었다.
제의와 상징의 전이 저자는 북한의 각종 정치 행사와 일상적 의례가 기독교 예배의 모사임을 지적한다. <생활총화>는 기독교의 고백 및 회개 의식과 닮아 있으며, 수령을 찬양하는 노래들은 찬송가의 곡조와 박자를 상당 부분 공유한다. 김일성과 김정일의 초상화는 성상(Icon)의 역할을 수행하며, 만수대 언덕과 같은 성지는 예루살렘과 같은 성소의 지위를 갖는다. 즉, 북한은 국가 전체를 하나의 거대한 종교 공동체로 재설계한 것이다.
2. 평론: 신정일체 국가의 기묘한 역설
이 책은 북한 체제의 본질을 이해하는 데 있어 기존의 정치학적 접근을 넘어 종교학적 통찰을 제공한다는 점에서 탁월하다. 조너선 정은 북한이 왜 공산주의의 몰락 속에서도 무너지지 않고 버틸 수 있었는지를 <신앙의 힘>이라는 키워드로 풀어낸다.
정통성과 전복의 미학 가장 흥미로운 지점은 북한 정권이 기독교를 가혹하게 탄압하면서도, 정작 그 체제의 뼈대는 기독교에서 빌려왔다는 역설이다. 저자는 이를 단순한 모방이 아니라 <기독교적 유산의 전유>로 해석한다. 기독교가 가진 강력한 응집력과 헌신성을 민족주의와 결합하여 강력한 통치 기제로 삼은 것이다. 이는 북한 체제가 왜 단순한 독재를 넘어 광적인 추종을 이끌어내는지에 대한 설득력 있는 답변이 된다.
역사적 실증주의와 서사적 상상력 저자는 방대한 사료와 증언을 통해 김일성 가문의 기독교적 연관성을 치밀하게 증명한다. 특히 초기 북한의 선전 선동가들이 기독교적 수사에 능통했다는 사실을 밝혀낸 점은 이 책의 백미다. 다만, 모든 사회 현상을 종교적 원인으로만 환원하려 할 때 발생할 수 있는 일반화의 위험은 존재한다. 정치적 역학 관계나 지정학적 요인보다 문화·종교적 뿌리에 지나치게 집중한 측면은 독자에 따라 호불호가 갈릴 수 있는 지점이다.
결론: 세속적 신정 국가의 초상 결국 <한국의 메시아>는 북한을 이해하는 새로운 렌즈를 제시한다. 북한은 실패한 공산 국가라기보다, 성공적으로 안착한 <세속적 신정 국가>에 가깝다. 김일성은 기독교의 하나님을 제거한 자리에 자신을 세웠으나, 그 자리를 유지하기 위해 자신이 그토록 부정했던 기독교의 형식을 빌려야만 했다. 이 책은 북한 체제가 가진 기괴한 생명력의 원천이 바로 인간의 근원적인 <종교적 욕망>을 정치적으로 뒤틀어 활용한 데 있음을 준엄하게 경고한다.
세진님, 이 요약과 평론이 원하시는 관점을 정리하는 데 도움이 되었기를 바랍니다. 혹시 특정 챕터에 대해 더 자세한 분석이 필요하거나, 다른 책의 요약이 궁금하시면 언제든 말씀해 주세요.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
Austin Barselau
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February 19, 2026
Korean Messiah: Kim Il Sung and the Christian Roots of North Korea's Personality Cult is a forthcoming work that seeks to trace the origins of North Korea’s intense personality cult to the Christian environment of Kim Il Sung’s youth. Drawing on interviews, letters, and newly available archival material, Wall Street Journal China bureau chief Jonathan Cheng argues that Kim’s early exposure to Christian education and theology shaped the centralized ideological system he later constructed to consolidate power.
This ambitious and deeply researched study opens with a detailed account of Christianity’s roots in northern Korea, beginning with the arrival of Presbyterian missionaries from the American Midwest in the late nineteenth century. Cheng traces the emergence of early house churches and the rapid growth of an extensive network of churches and schools centered around institutions such as the Pyongyang Central Presbyterian Church. These missionary efforts fostered the development of robust native Christian institutions that provided both spiritual guidance and social infrastructure. Mission schools offered formal education to many who had previously lacked access, promoted literacy through the Korean vernacular alphabet, and expanded opportunities for women beyond traditional domestic roles. Christianity also functioned as a moral and institutional bulwark against Japanese imperial rule. By the turn of the twentieth century, Pyongyang had earned the moniker “Jerusalem of the East” for its vibrant Protestant community.
Within this religiously dynamic setting, Cheng situates Kim’s formative years. Korean society, he argues, proved remarkably receptive to Christian proselytization—including members of Kim’s own family. Both of Kim’s parents and relatives on his mother’s side were active in the church. His father attended Western-style missionary schools and remained involved in church life; his mother was reportedly Presbyterian, and his maternal grandfather served as a Protestant elder. As one historian cited in the book observes, Kim’s parents were “not just Christians, but Christian activists.” During his family’s exile in Manchuria under Japanese occupation, Kim also developed relationships with veterans of the Korean Christian movement who had known his father. He attended schools influenced by Protestant missionaries, where he encountered Christian moral teachings, concepts of salvation, and highly structured forms of worship and collective mobilization. Cheng contends that these experiences left a lasting imprint on Kim’s understanding of leadership, organization, and ideological authority.
The core of Cheng’s argument is that Kim later drew upon these organizational and symbolic forms as he consolidated power in North Korea. As Kim emerged as the idolized leader of the new state, some contemporaries believed he instructed his cadres to emulate practices drawn from the churches of his youth. Kim was portrayed as a national savior and liberator; his writings were elevated to the status of canonical texts. Writers and poets described him as a “savior in the Christian mode.” Ritualized practices—mandatory gatherings, recitations, and self-criticism sessions—mirrored the cadence and structure of religious observance. Ideological codes of conduct carried a moral absolutism reminiscent of the Ten Commandments, while songs and chants echoed Western choral traditions. Some historians interpret this carefully cultivated deification as an attempt to present Kim as a “secular Christ,” effectively replacing Christianity with a state-centered political faith that used its forms.
In sum, Korean Messiah is an illuminating study that explores a neglected dimension of Kim Il Sung’s rise to power. Cheng’s research is impressively thorough, and his central thesis is both original and compelling. At times, however, the narrative becomes repetitive and digressive, which slightly diminishes the book’s cohesiveness (the author notes that the original manuscript exceeded one thousand pages). Moreover, while the Christian influence on Kim’s early life is convincingly documented, the argument may understate the multifaceted origins of North Korea’s personality cult. Marxism-Leninism, Korean nationalism, Confucian hierarchy, and broader patterns of totalitarian political religion likely also shaped the regime’s ideological architecture.
Nevertheless, Cheng delivers a deeply researched and thought-provoking account of how early Christian missionary activity may have contributed—symbolically and structurally—to one of the twentieth century’s most formidable cults of personality.
Thanks to NetGalley for providing me an advance copy of this work.
1 like
Like
Comment
Demetri Papadimitropoulos
500 reviews41 followers
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Review of advance copy received from PublisherApril 5, 2026
From Pews to Portraits, With No Stop at Secularism
Jonathan Cheng’s “Korean Messiah” argues that Pyongyang did not simply abandon religion – it rerouted ritual, awe, and holy time toward the Kim dynasty.
By Demetris Papadimitropoulos | April 4th, 2026
Christian Pyongyang glows here as a lived sacred city, its warmth already shadowed by the later order that will inherit, overwrite, and repurpose its forms of public reverence.
Pyongyang may be the only city in modern political history forced to survive being holy twice. Jonathan Cheng opens “Korean Messiah” with Billy Graham in North Korea in 1992, standing under a portrait of Kim Il Sung and then beneath a slogan praying for the leader’s eternal life. All this in a city once so thick with churches, seminaries, and prayer meetings that it was called the “Jerusalem of the East.” Shown the thatched hut presented as Kim’s birthplace, Graham remarks that all they are missing are the manger and the three wise men. A lesser book would uncork itself on the spot and spend the next four hundred pages admiring its own cleverness. Cheng does the harder thing. He treats the scene not as proof but as a problem. What had to happen to a city for that joke to land so perfectly?
His answer is a civic religion torn up and relaid. “Korean Messiah” is not most interesting as a book arguing that North Korea is somehow like a religion. Plenty of readers will arrive ready for that. What Cheng actually gives them is stranger and better: a history of succession. One sacred public order gives way to another. A city once organized around churches, schools, seminaries, prayer meetings, missionary households, and Korean Christian ambition becomes the capital of a state faith lashed to one family. Resemblance is only the surface. Succession is the engine. Cheng’s strongest proof is not analogy but replacement: he reconstructs the earlier religious infrastructure so fully that the later Kimist order starts to look less like an exotic aberration than a confiscation of forms the city already knew how to perform.
That shift gives the book its authority and leaves a bruise on every chapter after it. Cheng is not simply pointing out that Kimilsungism developed rituals, icons, holy anniversaries, and sacred language. He is rebuilding the earlier world that makes those later forms feel less like invention than seizure. His claim is not that North Korea borrowed a little church furniture. It is that the regime rose in a place already practiced at making reverence public, ceremonial, and hard to escape. Once that possibility is in view, the book stops reading like a stunt and starts reading like a serious, unsettling act of historical recovery.
The structure looks plain and then springs. The manuscript is arranged in a prologue and three acts, with the first explicitly titled “The Jerusalem of the East.” Act One begins far from Pyongyang, in Madison, Indiana, where Samuel Moffett comes of age in the moral weather of postbellum American Presbyterianism. Cheng catches that world in its small materials: missionary journals, prayer meetings, abolitionist colleges, the brisk certainty of people who believed they were exporting both salvation and civilization. From there he crosses into late Chosŏn Korea and the rise of Protestant Christianity in the northwest, until Pyongyang appears not as a mere mission field but as a Christian capital in fact. Act Two carries that world through the Kim family, Japanese occupation, anti-colonial struggle, and the Christian-nationalist networks of Manchuria. Act Three shows the full canonization of Kim Il Sung: mythic birth, doctrinal text, ritualized portrait care, sacred anniversaries, the Chuch’e calendar reset to 1912, and the final cold joke of an “Eternal President.” This is not a filing cabinet. It is the argument’s machinery.
Had Cheng begun with the cult and then tucked Christian Pyongyang into a few chapters of suggestive background, the argument would have looked too pleased with itself – a thesis out hunting examples. Instead he makes readers spend time in the earlier city: the pews, schools, seminaries, meetings, and households that gave Pyongyang its Christian density. Only then does he show what replaced them. The later Kimist order is never just bizarre. It is double-exposed. The city had practice in making holiness civic. That decision is what gives the book its emotional force. “Korean Messiah” is a work of political history, yes, but it is also an elegy for an erased urban memory.
That is where Cheng earns the premise. “Korean Messiah” is strongest when it shows belief as infrastructure. Not private piety. Not Sunday upholstery. Infrastructure: schools, patronage, print culture, family prestige, emotional discipline, ritual attention. By the time the Kim state demands reverence before portraits, memorization of texts, sacred birthdays, floral offerings, and submission to a leader who survives death, Cheng has done enough historical work that the comparison no longer feels ornamental. He has shown a city whose civic life already knew how to stage devotion in public. The later cult does not merely resemble religion. It rises in a place where the techniques of communal reverence had long since been normalized, admired, and woven into daily life.
The book’s best pages understand that power is never satisfied with obedience if it can secure reverence. That insight gives Cheng room to write North Korea not as a sealed freak show but as a legible system. In that sense, the book stands fruitfully beside Barbara Demick’s “Nothing to Envy” and B.R. Myers’s “The Cleanest Race,” both of which helped strip away the lazy mystifications surrounding the regime. Cheng’s contribution is different. He does not chiefly make North Korea intimate, nor chiefly demystify its propaganda. He shows that one better language for the regime may be liturgical. Once you begin reading the state through ritual, icon care, sacred time, pilgrimage, and doctrinal repetition, its durability looks less bewildering and more brutal in its coherence.
The prose earns trust by declining the subject’s standing invitation to gape. North Korea tempts writers into a tone of permanent astonishment, as if every paragraph ought to arrive in a trench coat lined with exclamation points. Cheng keeps his footing. His sentences usually move at a medium stride, wide enough for context but quick enough to keep the page moving. He likes a scene with a heartbeat and then a widening into institutional explanation. Just as importantly, he knows when to return to the thing itself: the white cloth over a subway seat Kim once occupied, portraits wrapped in vinyl after floods, the blood vow at Kija’s Tomb, the churches and schools of Jilin where the young Kim Sŏng-ju moved among Christian-nationalist circles. He explains plenty, but the prose never curdles into filing-cabinet English. Nor does it swoon. That restraint is part of the proof. The thesis comes in on objects.
Cheng also understands recurrence. Birth, text, ritual, image, holy time, eternal life – these pressures keep returning until the echo starts ringing on its own. When Kim Il Sung’s afterlife is organized through calendars, flowers, constitutions, songfests, and sun language, Cheng does not need to clamber onto the furniture and announce that something religious has happened. By then the reader can hear the liturgy unaided. That recurrence gives the book an intelligence beyond paraphrase. It lets the argument accumulate rather than declaim. What lingers is not a single bright thesis statement but an afterimage: Christian Pyongyang ghosting Kimist Pyongyang, one city serving two incompatible sacred orders in sequence.
He is most convincing when the history stays insistently concrete. Kim Hyŏng-jik praying and weeping at Kija’s Tomb before signing a blood vow for national salvation. The young Kim passing through the orbit of Rev. Son Chŏng-do in Jilin. Billy Graham recognizing, with a pastor’s gallows humor, a familiar sacred choreography in a city once Christian in fact and later Christian chiefly by displacement and theft. Kim Il Sung himself saying that without Rev. Son Chŏng-do there would never have been “a Kim Il Sung existing in the world.” These scenes do not decorate the thesis. They carry it. They are the places where Cheng’s large interpretive wager feels least like interpretation and most like disclosure.
Here private prayer hardens into public destiny, as devotion, sacrifice, and nationalist longing gather into a ritual that feels both intimate and ominously historical.
The strain arrives when Cheng’s master insight starts acting like a master key. Christianity is the privileged through-line here, but his own evidence crowds the claim: Confucian hierarchy, Japanese emperor worship, Bolshevik ideas, Stalinist organization, indigenous religious currents, and the blunt old tools of fear and force. Cheng knows this. He says so, implicitly and sometimes directly, by assembling a history far messier than any single line of causation can comfortably hold. Even then, the book sometimes presses the Christian parallel past its sharpest evidence. It is strongest when it shows transformation on the page. It is weaker when resemblance starts doing causal work it has not fully earned. Demonstrated inheritance is one thing. A total explanation is another.
That limitation matters because the book’s central line of thought is so good. When a writer discovers a genuinely illuminating framework, the temptation is to let it keep winning long after it has made its point. “Korean Messiah” occasionally yields to that temptation. The later sections can feel slightly over-governed by the need to bring every strand back under the same interpretive canopy. This does not sink the book. Far from it. But it does place a ceiling on how fully the history can resist the elegance of its own design.
There is a second cost as well. Early in the book, figures such as Moffett, Kim Hyŏng-jik, and Son Chŏng-do arrive with real local grain: motives, surroundings, contradictions, social weather. Later, as the cult apparatus expands, some secondary figures flatten into positions within the design. You can feel the trade. Cheng has chosen scale, architecture, and conceptual reach over full human density. Here that choice is mostly worth it, though not free. The book’s most durable impressions are therefore likely to be cities, rites, objects, and reversals rather than secondary characters one cannot shake loose.
In this spare interior, ordinary domestic order has been taught the posture of reverence, and the room itself begins to resemble a shrine built for obedience.
Its relevance begins with ritual. Cheng is not writing allegory, and he does not need to drag the present onstage to make his point. What “Korean Messiah” clarifies is how thin “force alone” sounds as an explanation for authoritarian durability. Force can make a state obeyed. Reverence, ritual, calendars, sacred birthdays, portrait care, and doctrinal study can make it feel inevitable. That is the book’s present-tense bite. Not that every modern strongman is secretly a priest, or every polity a church in waiting, but that power becomes harder to dislodge when it annexes the forms by which people organize awe, repetition, belonging, and time.
For me, “Korean Messiah” lands at 89/100, or 4 stars: a formidable work of narrative argument, formally intelligent and bold in how far it lets one line of influence run, though not quite free of the strain that shadows a thesis this intent on coherence. For a book this daring, that pressure is a tax, not a disqualification. Cheng’s most illuminating line of thought is not that North Korea learned to behave like a religion. It is that Pyongyang had already known, in another key, how to make belief public, ritualized, and hard to escape. By the end, the city once called the “Jerusalem of the East” has not ceased to be holy. It has simply been retaught where to kneel.
Early thumbnail studies testing how one city might hold two sacred histories at once, with space, geometry, and imbalance doing the work before detail arrives.
The underdrawing reveals the hidden architecture of the final image, where street lines, wall planes, and vertical pressure quietly prepare the painting’s emotional logic.
At the first-wash stage, the image begins to breathe, as cold civic light and fugitive sacred warmth separate into the mood the finished painting will carry.
These palette trials map the tension between mineral state severity and the softer afterglow of erased faith, translating the book’s cover logic into watercolor weather.
A border study tracing how ecclesiastical softness and monument severity can meet at the edge, so that even the frame participates in the painting’s divided holiness.
All watercolor illustrations by Demetris Papadimitropoulos.
2026 history nonfiction
...more
1 like
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Sydney
610 reviews2 followers
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Review of advance copy received from NetgalleyMarch 28, 2026
Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf the eARC in exchange for my honest review.
I had some trouble getting through this book, but I think most of my issues (missing numbers, making dates impossible to figure out, and missing double f, meaning official came out oicial) will be fixed in the final version.
That being said, this is an extremely well researched and thorough history. Cheng does a great job of covering the Christian roots. The book was really interesting, and it was really timely, too.
2026 arcs history
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dalanceyreads
54 reviews
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September 7, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley, Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for providing me with this ARC!
All opinions expressed are my own.
4.7/5⭐️
This book was definitely a new topic for me and it did not disappoint. The author dives into and examines Christianity in Korea and the various ways in which it impacted everyone. This book is an in-depth academic account and I can say I’ve learned something new.
Show more
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Michael
339 reviews
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September 20, 2025
Jonathan Cheng's "Korean Messiah" is a dense history of the connection between Christianity and Kim Il Sung. It is a throughly researched history. of the growth of Christianity on the Korean Peninsula and its impact on North Korea's despotic leader Kim Il Sung. The writing is scholarly and at times moves a bit glacially. That said, the insight that Cheng shares make it a worthwhile read. Thank you to #netgalley and #knopf for the opportunity to preview this book.
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MaddiBReading
19 reviews
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Review of advance copy received from NetgalleyDecember 20, 2025
[ARC Review] This book is an interesting look into Christian evangelicalism and missionary impact in Korea (North particularly and South). You think you've seen all the impact (good and bad) from American Christianity but this is enlightening. Its dense due to the sheer amount of evidence and slow argument, which is needed. It is thorough and exposes counterarguments not previous to this topic. I enjoyed this book overall and will purchase a physical copy!
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
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Austin Barselau
266 reviews14 followers
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February 19, 2026
Korean Messiah: Kim Il Sung and the Christian Roots of North Korea's Personality Cult is a forthcoming work that seeks to trace the origins of North Korea’s intense personality cult to the Christian environment of Kim Il Sung’s youth. Drawing on interviews, letters, and newly available archival material, Wall Street Journal China bureau chief Jonathan Cheng argues that Kim’s early exposure to Christian education and theology shaped the centralized ideological system he later constructed to consolidate power.
This ambitious and deeply researched study opens with a detailed account of Christianity’s roots in northern Korea, beginning with the arrival of Presbyterian missionaries from the American Midwest in the late nineteenth century. Cheng traces the emergence of early house churches and the rapid growth of an extensive network of churches and schools centered around institutions such as the Pyongyang Central Presbyterian Church. These missionary efforts fostered the development of robust native Christian institutions that provided both spiritual guidance and social infrastructure. Mission schools offered formal education to many who had previously lacked access, promoted literacy through the Korean vernacular alphabet, and expanded opportunities for women beyond traditional domestic roles. Christianity also functioned as a moral and institutional bulwark against Japanese imperial rule. By the turn of the twentieth century, Pyongyang had earned the moniker “Jerusalem of the East” for its vibrant Protestant community.
Within this religiously dynamic setting, Cheng situates Kim’s formative years. Korean society, he argues, proved remarkably receptive to Christian proselytization—including members of Kim’s own family. Both of Kim’s parents and relatives on his mother’s side were active in the church. His father attended Western-style missionary schools and remained involved in church life; his mother was reportedly Presbyterian, and his maternal grandfather served as a Protestant elder. As one historian cited in the book observes, Kim’s parents were “not just Christians, but Christian activists.” During his family’s exile in Manchuria under Japanese occupation, Kim also developed relationships with veterans of the Korean Christian movement who had known his father. He attended schools influenced by Protestant missionaries, where he encountered Christian moral teachings, concepts of salvation, and highly structured forms of worship and collective mobilization. Cheng contends that these experiences left a lasting imprint on Kim’s understanding of leadership, organization, and ideological authority.
The core of Cheng’s argument is that Kim later drew upon these organizational and symbolic forms as he consolidated power in North Korea. As Kim emerged as the idolized leader of the new state, some contemporaries believed he instructed his cadres to emulate practices drawn from the churches of his youth. Kim was portrayed as a national savior and liberator; his writings were elevated to the status of canonical texts. Writers and poets described him as a “savior in the Christian mode.” Ritualized practices—mandatory gatherings, recitations, and self-criticism sessions—mirrored the cadence and structure of religious observance. Ideological codes of conduct carried a moral absolutism reminiscent of the Ten Commandments, while songs and chants echoed Western choral traditions. Some historians interpret this carefully cultivated deification as an attempt to present Kim as a “secular Christ,” effectively replacing Christianity with a state-centered political faith that used its forms.
In sum, Korean Messiah is an illuminating study that explores a neglected dimension of Kim Il Sung’s rise to power. Cheng’s research is impressively thorough, and his central thesis is both original and compelling. At times, however, the narrative becomes repetitive and digressive, which slightly diminishes the book’s cohesiveness (the author notes that the original manuscript exceeded one thousand pages). Moreover, while the Christian influence on Kim’s early life is convincingly documented, the argument may understate the multifaceted origins of North Korea’s personality cult. Marxism-Leninism, Korean nationalism, Confucian hierarchy, and broader patterns of totalitarian political religion likely also shaped the regime’s ideological architecture.
Nevertheless, Cheng delivers a deeply researched and thought-provoking account of how early Christian missionary activity may have contributed—symbolically and structurally—to one of the twentieth century’s most formidable cults of personality.
Thanks to NetGalley for providing me an advance copy of this work.
1 like
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Demetri Papadimitropoulos
500 reviews41 followers
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Review of advance copy received from PublisherApril 5, 2026
From Pews to Portraits, With No Stop at Secularism
Jonathan Cheng’s “Korean Messiah” argues that Pyongyang did not simply abandon religion – it rerouted ritual, awe, and holy time toward the Kim dynasty.
By Demetris Papadimitropoulos | April 4th, 2026
Christian Pyongyang glows here as a lived sacred city, its warmth already shadowed by the later order that will inherit, overwrite, and repurpose its forms of public reverence.
Pyongyang may be the only city in modern political history forced to survive being holy twice. Jonathan Cheng opens “Korean Messiah” with Billy Graham in North Korea in 1992, standing under a portrait of Kim Il Sung and then beneath a slogan praying for the leader’s eternal life. All this in a city once so thick with churches, seminaries, and prayer meetings that it was called the “Jerusalem of the East.” Shown the thatched hut presented as Kim’s birthplace, Graham remarks that all they are missing are the manger and the three wise men. A lesser book would uncork itself on the spot and spend the next four hundred pages admiring its own cleverness. Cheng does the harder thing. He treats the scene not as proof but as a problem. What had to happen to a city for that joke to land so perfectly?
His answer is a civic religion torn up and relaid. “Korean Messiah” is not most interesting as a book arguing that North Korea is somehow like a religion. Plenty of readers will arrive ready for that. What Cheng actually gives them is stranger and better: a history of succession. One sacred public order gives way to another. A city once organized around churches, schools, seminaries, prayer meetings, missionary households, and Korean Christian ambition becomes the capital of a state faith lashed to one family. Resemblance is only the surface. Succession is the engine. Cheng’s strongest proof is not analogy but replacement: he reconstructs the earlier religious infrastructure so fully that the later Kimist order starts to look less like an exotic aberration than a confiscation of forms the city already knew how to perform.
That shift gives the book its authority and leaves a bruise on every chapter after it. Cheng is not simply pointing out that Kimilsungism developed rituals, icons, holy anniversaries, and sacred language. He is rebuilding the earlier world that makes those later forms feel less like invention than seizure. His claim is not that North Korea borrowed a little church furniture. It is that the regime rose in a place already practiced at making reverence public, ceremonial, and hard to escape. Once that possibility is in view, the book stops reading like a stunt and starts reading like a serious, unsettling act of historical recovery.
The structure looks plain and then springs. The manuscript is arranged in a prologue and three acts, with the first explicitly titled “The Jerusalem of the East.” Act One begins far from Pyongyang, in Madison, Indiana, where Samuel Moffett comes of age in the moral weather of postbellum American Presbyterianism. Cheng catches that world in its small materials: missionary journals, prayer meetings, abolitionist colleges, the brisk certainty of people who believed they were exporting both salvation and civilization. From there he crosses into late Chosŏn Korea and the rise of Protestant Christianity in the northwest, until Pyongyang appears not as a mere mission field but as a Christian capital in fact. Act Two carries that world through the Kim family, Japanese occupation, anti-colonial struggle, and the Christian-nationalist networks of Manchuria. Act Three shows the full canonization of Kim Il Sung: mythic birth, doctrinal text, ritualized portrait care, sacred anniversaries, the Chuch’e calendar reset to 1912, and the final cold joke of an “Eternal President.” This is not a filing cabinet. It is the argument’s machinery.
Had Cheng begun with the cult and then tucked Christian Pyongyang into a few chapters of suggestive background, the argument would have looked too pleased with itself – a thesis out hunting examples. Instead he makes readers spend time in the earlier city: the pews, schools, seminaries, meetings, and households that gave Pyongyang its Christian density. Only then does he show what replaced them. The later Kimist order is never just bizarre. It is double-exposed. The city had practice in making holiness civic. That decision is what gives the book its emotional force. “Korean Messiah” is a work of political history, yes, but it is also an elegy for an erased urban memory.
That is where Cheng earns the premise. “Korean Messiah” is strongest when it shows belief as infrastructure. Not private piety. Not Sunday upholstery. Infrastructure: schools, patronage, print culture, family prestige, emotional discipline, ritual attention. By the time the Kim state demands reverence before portraits, memorization of texts, sacred birthdays, floral offerings, and submission to a leader who survives death, Cheng has done enough historical work that the comparison no longer feels ornamental. He has shown a city whose civic life already knew how to stage devotion in public. The later cult does not merely resemble religion. It rises in a place where the techniques of communal reverence had long since been normalized, admired, and woven into daily life.
The book’s best pages understand that power is never satisfied with obedience if it can secure reverence. That insight gives Cheng room to write North Korea not as a sealed freak show but as a legible system. In that sense, the book stands fruitfully beside Barbara Demick’s “Nothing to Envy” and B.R. Myers’s “The Cleanest Race,” both of which helped strip away the lazy mystifications surrounding the regime. Cheng’s contribution is different. He does not chiefly make North Korea intimate, nor chiefly demystify its propaganda. He shows that one better language for the regime may be liturgical. Once you begin reading the state through ritual, icon care, sacred time, pilgrimage, and doctrinal repetition, its durability looks less bewildering and more brutal in its coherence.
The prose earns trust by declining the subject’s standing invitation to gape. North Korea tempts writers into a tone of permanent astonishment, as if every paragraph ought to arrive in a trench coat lined with exclamation points. Cheng keeps his footing. His sentences usually move at a medium stride, wide enough for context but quick enough to keep the page moving. He likes a scene with a heartbeat and then a widening into institutional explanation. Just as importantly, he knows when to return to the thing itself: the white cloth over a subway seat Kim once occupied, portraits wrapped in vinyl after floods, the blood vow at Kija’s Tomb, the churches and schools of Jilin where the young Kim Sŏng-ju moved among Christian-nationalist circles. He explains plenty, but the prose never curdles into filing-cabinet English. Nor does it swoon. That restraint is part of the proof. The thesis comes in on objects.
Cheng also understands recurrence. Birth, text, ritual, image, holy time, eternal life – these pressures keep returning until the echo starts ringing on its own. When Kim Il Sung’s afterlife is organized through calendars, flowers, constitutions, songfests, and sun language, Cheng does not need to clamber onto the furniture and announce that something religious has happened. By then the reader can hear the liturgy unaided. That recurrence gives the book an intelligence beyond paraphrase. It lets the argument accumulate rather than declaim. What lingers is not a single bright thesis statement but an afterimage: Christian Pyongyang ghosting Kimist Pyongyang, one city serving two incompatible sacred orders in sequence.
He is most convincing when the history stays insistently concrete. Kim Hyŏng-jik praying and weeping at Kija’s Tomb before signing a blood vow for national salvation. The young Kim passing through the orbit of Rev. Son Chŏng-do in Jilin. Billy Graham recognizing, with a pastor’s gallows humor, a familiar sacred choreography in a city once Christian in fact and later Christian chiefly by displacement and theft. Kim Il Sung himself saying that without Rev. Son Chŏng-do there would never have been “a Kim Il Sung existing in the world.” These scenes do not decorate the thesis. They carry it. They are the places where Cheng’s large interpretive wager feels least like interpretation and most like disclosure.
Here private prayer hardens into public destiny, as devotion, sacrifice, and nationalist longing gather into a ritual that feels both intimate and ominously historical.
The strain arrives when Cheng’s master insight starts acting like a master key. Christianity is the privileged through-line here, but his own evidence crowds the claim: Confucian hierarchy, Japanese emperor worship, Bolshevik ideas, Stalinist organization, indigenous religious currents, and the blunt old tools of fear and force. Cheng knows this. He says so, implicitly and sometimes directly, by assembling a history far messier than any single line of causation can comfortably hold. Even then, the book sometimes presses the Christian parallel past its sharpest evidence. It is strongest when it shows transformation on the page. It is weaker when resemblance starts doing causal work it has not fully earned. Demonstrated inheritance is one thing. A total explanation is another.
That limitation matters because the book’s central line of thought is so good. When a writer discovers a genuinely illuminating framework, the temptation is to let it keep winning long after it has made its point. “Korean Messiah” occasionally yields to that temptation. The later sections can feel slightly over-governed by the need to bring every strand back under the same interpretive canopy. This does not sink the book. Far from it. But it does place a ceiling on how fully the history can resist the elegance of its own design.
There is a second cost as well. Early in the book, figures such as Moffett, Kim Hyŏng-jik, and Son Chŏng-do arrive with real local grain: motives, surroundings, contradictions, social weather. Later, as the cult apparatus expands, some secondary figures flatten into positions within the design. You can feel the trade. Cheng has chosen scale, architecture, and conceptual reach over full human density. Here that choice is mostly worth it, though not free. The book’s most durable impressions are therefore likely to be cities, rites, objects, and reversals rather than secondary characters one cannot shake loose.
In this spare interior, ordinary domestic order has been taught the posture of reverence, and the room itself begins to resemble a shrine built for obedience.
Its relevance begins with ritual. Cheng is not writing allegory, and he does not need to drag the present onstage to make his point. What “Korean Messiah” clarifies is how thin “force alone” sounds as an explanation for authoritarian durability. Force can make a state obeyed. Reverence, ritual, calendars, sacred birthdays, portrait care, and doctrinal study can make it feel inevitable. That is the book’s present-tense bite. Not that every modern strongman is secretly a priest, or every polity a church in waiting, but that power becomes harder to dislodge when it annexes the forms by which people organize awe, repetition, belonging, and time.
For me, “Korean Messiah” lands at 89/100, or 4 stars: a formidable work of narrative argument, formally intelligent and bold in how far it lets one line of influence run, though not quite free of the strain that shadows a thesis this intent on coherence. For a book this daring, that pressure is a tax, not a disqualification. Cheng’s most illuminating line of thought is not that North Korea learned to behave like a religion. It is that Pyongyang had already known, in another key, how to make belief public, ritualized, and hard to escape. By the end, the city once called the “Jerusalem of the East” has not ceased to be holy. It has simply been retaught where to kneel.
Early thumbnail studies testing how one city might hold two sacred histories at once, with space, geometry, and imbalance doing the work before detail arrives.
The underdrawing reveals the hidden architecture of the final image, where street lines, wall planes, and vertical pressure quietly prepare the painting’s emotional logic.
At the first-wash stage, the image begins to breathe, as cold civic light and fugitive sacred warmth separate into the mood the finished painting will carry.
These palette trials map the tension between mineral state severity and the softer afterglow of erased faith, translating the book’s cover logic into watercolor weather.
A border study tracing how ecclesiastical softness and monument severity can meet at the edge, so that even the frame participates in the painting’s divided holiness.
All watercolor illustrations by Demetris Papadimitropoulos.
2026 history nonfiction
...more
1 like
Like
Comment
Sydney
610 reviews2 followers
Follow
Review of advance copy received from NetgalleyMarch 28, 2026
Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf the eARC in exchange for my honest review.
I had some trouble getting through this book, but I think most of my issues (missing numbers, making dates impossible to figure out, and missing double f, meaning official came out oicial) will be fixed in the final version.
That being said, this is an extremely well researched and thorough history. Cheng does a great job of covering the Christian roots. The book was really interesting, and it was really timely, too.
2026 arcs history
Like
Comment
dalanceyreads
54 reviews
Follow
September 7, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley, Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor for providing me with this ARC!
All opinions expressed are my own.
4.7/5⭐️
This book was definitely a new topic for me and it did not disappoint. The author dives into and examines Christianity in Korea and the various ways in which it impacted everyone. This book is an in-depth academic account and I can say I’ve learned something new.
Show more
Like
Comment
Michael
339 reviews
Follow
September 20, 2025
Jonathan Cheng's "Korean Messiah" is a dense history of the connection between Christianity and Kim Il Sung. It is a throughly researched history. of the growth of Christianity on the Korean Peninsula and its impact on North Korea's despotic leader Kim Il Sung. The writing is scholarly and at times moves a bit glacially. That said, the insight that Cheng shares make it a worthwhile read. Thank you to #netgalley and #knopf for the opportunity to preview this book.
Like
Comment
MaddiBReading
19 reviews
Follow
Review of advance copy received from NetgalleyDecember 20, 2025
[ARC Review] This book is an interesting look into Christian evangelicalism and missionary impact in Korea (North particularly and South). You think you've seen all the impact (good and bad) from American Christianity but this is enlightening. Its dense due to the sheer amount of evidence and slow argument, which is needed. It is thorough and exposes counterarguments not previous to this topic. I enjoyed this book overall and will purchase a physical copy!
Like
Comment
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
===
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