The Words of Won Pil Kim

Notes from Philadelphia’s Visit with Mr. Won Pil Kim – June 1968
New Age Frontiers (Rewritten in 2025 for clarity by ChatGPT)

Think of a great historical figure—someone like George Washington or Abraham Lincoln. Why do we honor them so deeply and even build statues in their memory? Reflect on this. We all have kind neighbors and good friends who help us in difficult times and show us sympathy. But we don’t build statues for them; we simply think of them as good people. What sets famous people apart from good neighbors? Famous individuals think and act on a national or global scale, while good neighbors focus mainly on individual concerns. The ones who develop a broad, world-embracing consciousness are the ones who become significant and remembered through history.

Everyone who joins this movement commits to something beyond themselves—something for the world. That’s why our movement is so important. But thinking of the world means taking on great responsibility. If someone only lives for themselves, they don’t suffer much. But at the level we're living, we must struggle and be willing to suffer. Our Leader is striving to accomplish something incredibly great—greater than anything done before. That’s why he is the greatest of men.

Let me tell you about our Leader after he came to South Korea in 1951. We built a small hut by the sea. There was an elderly woman from Pyongyang, in North Korea, who had served our Leader for many years and was desperately searching for him. Five years before they met, she had heard a voice from heaven saying, “In five years, you will meet the Messiah. You must prepare for him.” She spent those years preparing food, clothing, blankets—everything. On the exact day, five years later, she met our Leader.

Then the war separated them. She constantly prayed and asked the heavenly Father for guidance on where he was. Her son eventually found Father in Pusan. But upon seeing our poor living conditions, he couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. Instead, he told her, “He has a wonderful large house!” However, she heard God say, “No, he lives in a small, poor hut.” She didn’t know whom to believe. When she arrived in Pusan and saw the humble conditions, she knew Father was the one.

Whenever we strive to accomplish something great, the spiritual world will assist us—but it won’t take over our responsibility.

In North Korea, our Leader had his own small room and lived apart from us. In Pusan, we shared a cramped hut. When we think of saints or great people, we often imagine them as distant or supernatural. But when you live closely with someone, that image can fade. I was afraid that knowing our Leader too well might make it harder to respect him. It’s easy to revere Jesus 2,000 years after he lived—but even his own parents struggled to do that at the time. Yet, as I lived with our Leader in those difficult conditions, I came to know him deeply. Time and again, I was surprised by new aspects of his character. Contrary to my fears, the more I got to know him, the more my respect and admiration grew.

We came to South Korea with nothing. While our Leader preached, prayed, and worked for the Kingdom of Heaven, I worked in a U.S. Army office during the day and painted oil paintings at night to earn money. I worked until 6 p.m., then painted until midnight. I slept from 12 to 4 a.m., when our Leader would wake me so we could sell the paintings. Yet, he always went to bed after I did and was up before me.

At first, he would just watch me paint. But as demand grew, I painted the difficult parts, and he painted the rest. At times, others came to hear him teach, but they'd fall asleep from exhaustion. Our Leader would wake them, asking, “How can you sleep while we’re working? If you can’t help physically, at least support spiritually.”

In 1952 and 1953, our Leader wrote the Divine Principle. Each day, after I left for work, he sat on the floor and wrote all day. When I came home, he was reviewing his work—I never actually saw him write.

One night, we didn’t have to paint, so I was sleeping. Suddenly, he woke me and asked me to get a pencil and paper. In the darkness, without electricity, I wrote down his words as he spoke—steadily, without pausing for breath. That’s how the original Divine Principle was written—by our Leader alone, except for one chapter, “The Resurrection of Jesus,” which he asked me to write. I still don’t know why, but I believe God wanted a witness to the process. If our Leader had created the Principle from his own mind, he couldn’t have spoken and written it so fluidly. God helped him. Without that experience, there would have been no witness to its origin.

We often say, “Can’t you believe in the Divine Principle? Ask the heavenly Father—He’ll answer you.” Since God is true, and the Principle comes from Him, He will give a clear response.

Mr. Eu, a medical doctor, came from a devout Christian family but couldn’t understand or believe in God. Spiritual friends brought him to us, and I taught him the basics. Wanting to know more, he studied the original Divine Principle manuscript—despite its confusing structure. Once, he asked me a question I couldn’t clearly answer, so I told him, “Pray, and you’ll receive the answer.” He did, and the answer came in a vision. Mr. Eu was difficult to guide—always thinking, questioning—but today, he is the president of our Association.

Many times, I was awakened by our Leader’s prayers in the night. Sometimes he took me to the mountain early in the morning to pray together.

Ten days after arriving in Pusan, our Leader met an old college roommate—now a leading architect. They hadn’t seen each other in seven years. His friend hugged him joyfully and invited him to visit. Back in Japan, our Leader had been quiet and withdrawn. No one knew he was Christian, but they sensed something mysterious about him.

That evening, during their reunion, our Leader spoke about the coming Kingdom. The friend later dreamed of a beautiful woman who said she was Jesus’s sister. She expressed sorrow for her brother, longing to be happy. She said three doors needed to open—two did, but the third remained closed. “Only one man can open it—you know him. His name is Mr. Moon.”

The next morning, the friend asked, “Does Jesus have a sister?” Our Leader answered yes. Hearing this, the man sat upright, no longer as a friend, but in reverence—ready to follow him. From that day on, the man, once tense and pressured by life, became peaceful and committed.

During the Korean War, refugees often walked 30 to 40 kilometers a day. One night, past midnight in freezing weather, we stopped at a deserted house. We needed firewood, but the town was stripped bare. I found an old grave and broke off two wooden sticks from the burial covering. I started a small fire to warm the floor where our Leader sat.

He called out, “Won Pil! Where did you get the wood?” When I told him, he replied, “You’d better choose something purer for me.” That moment taught me to consider even the smallest things I offer to our Leader—Is it pure? He can’t enjoy food that’s been hastily prepared, for example.

Our Leader teaches that the most important thing is heart. Not food, not money, not the number of members—but doing everything with a sincere and devoted heart. That is what truly matters.