Chapter 12. Treachery. Twenty years had passed since God had called Patrick back to Ireland, but still the church wouldn't authorize him to go, even though he had now been a presbyter for fourteen years. He continued to preach God's truths without compromise, regardless of the fact that most of the congregation turned deaf ears. Nevertheless, over a period of time, his forceful preaching attracted a small group of younger men to his side.
They were zealous for God and impatient with the spiritually lethargic church of their day. The leader of this group of younger men was a twenty-two-year-old deacon named Loman. Born Polynos Secundus Lomanos, he was a well-educated man, yet he was also a humble, prayerful man. Patrick had mentored him and his friend Crispus from the time they were boys. One day, Loman told Patrick, "Crispus and I have decided we're going to go to Ireland with you. Perhaps that's where the fields are ripe.
The spiritual fields are well past bloom here and are dying." "Don't give up so easily on the British church," Patrick quickly responded, running his fingers through his gray blonde hair. "God may yet bring it back to life. Besides, who knows when I'll be leaving for Ireland? You'll probably both be married with families by then." "No, we've both made a commitment never to marry, just like you, Patrick," Loman replied in a serious tone. "We'll wait to go to Ireland with you, no matter how long it takes.
In the meantime, could you begin teaching us Gaelic so that we can witness to the Irish once we get there?" Patrick didn't take their commitment to accompany him to Ireland very seriously, but he nevertheless agreed to help them learn Gaelic. Later, he and his friend Marcus were sharing a meal together. "You know, I've been thinking, Patrick," Marcus began, "you've been a presbyter now for fourteen years. I think you deserve to be made a bishop." Patrick dropped his spoon and roared with laughter.
"Marcus, you're indeed my best friend. But me? A bishop? Are you kidding?" "No, I'm quite serious." "You can't be," Patrick protested. "I'm hardly worthy of such an honor. Besides, I'm much too rustic and unlearned. I can't even persuade the leaders to send me to Ireland. They would never make me a bishop." "Well, you never know. God works in mysterious ways," Marcus countered, as he helped himself to an apple.
"To be perfectly honest, the thought of being a bishop has never even entered my mind," Patrick explained. "I simply want to preach the gospel to the Irish. I'm called to be an evangelist, not a bishop." "Yes, but if you were a bishop, it would facilitate your setting up churches in Ireland. You well know that all ordinations must be performed by a bishop." "I see what you mean," Patrick contemplated. "Well, that's in God's hands.
I'm not going to worry about it." The next morning, Patrick noticed a family loading their household goods into a wagon. Hurrying over to them, he saw that it was Gaius, one of the men who still attended church. "You're not leaving us, Gaius, are you?" Patrick asked in disbelief. "You and your parents have lived in Bannavem all of your lives." "Things are just too dangerous in Britain right now," Gaius replied, shaking his head. "But I'm not the only one leaving.
Hundreds of families are fleeing Britain." "But where will you go?" Patrick asked, as he helped Gaius tie one of the ropes that secured the family's belongings. "People are going to different places. But a lot of us are moving to Armorica." "Armorica? Yes, I've heard of it. But I don't know anything about it." "It's a rocky peninsula off of the southwest coast of Gaul. They say it's the safest place in the whole world right now.
It's surrounded by water on the north, west, and south." Gaius drew a rough diagram of Armorica in the air as he talked. "Yet its jagged, rock-strewn coast is sufficiently perilous to deter seaborne raiders. Dense forests of oak and beech to the east protect it from the mainland barbarians." "Well, it certainly sounds safe enough," Patrick agreed. "But who will look after your spiritual needs there? Are there any churches?" "I don't know," Gaius responded, shrugging his shoulders.
"If there aren't churches now, I'm sure in time there will be." "Let me talk to the bishop," Patrick volunteered. "Perhaps he will authorize me to accompany you and the other families to help you get a church started. It would do me good to get away from here for a while. Besides, I have some dear Christian friends in Gaul that I haven't seen in many years. Perhaps I could travel to Gaul from Armorica and be able to see them." The next day, Patrick spoke with the bishop, a godly man named Branuch.
"Patrick, I have no objection whatsoever to your going to Armorica with the settlers," Branuch answered. "They will sorely need your spiritual guidance. I just don't know that this is a good time for you to be gone from the country." "Why not?" Patrick asked, rather puzzled. "I'm not aware of any pressing responsibilities here." "Well, um, I didn't want to say anything. But I guess you'd better know," the bishop stammered. "I've asked the presbyters to select a man to be ordained as an additional bishop.
I'm simply too old to travel as I once did. In this time of crisis, our people need as much shepherding as possible." "All right, but what does that have to do with me?" "Well, your name has been mentioned as a possible candidate for the position." "Me? A bishop?" Patrick asked in disbelief. "You certainly have the spiritual qualifications, Patrick. There are other presbyters who are more learned than you and know their theology better. But there's probably not a presbyter in all of Britain who has your faith.
Nor is there anyone who prays the way you do. I would be glad to ordain you as a bishop if the presbyters select you." "I guess that's in God's hands," Patrick replied. "What difference will it make whether I'm in Armorica or not?" "Your name is not the only one that's been mentioned. I'm sure the presbyters will want to meet with each candidate to examine and question them further. If you're out of the country, they may simply pass you by." "I see what you mean," Patrick pondered as he stroked his gray beard.
"Let me do some thinking and praying about this." That evening, Patrick conferred with Marcus. "You're not going to believe this, Marcus. But Bishop Branuch has told me that the presbyters are considering me as a candidate for the new bishop. You were right after all. I never would have believed it." "Well, you don't look all that excited about it," Marcus observed. "Why the serious face?" "Oh, I am excited.
But I had planned to accompany the refugees to Armorica to shepherd them there until a permanent presbyter is ordained for them. But that would take me away for a couple of months. The bishop told me he thought it would be unwise for me to leave the country right now." "Oh, I see what you mean," Marcus said, scratching his head. "But I'm not so sure it would make any difference if you're in Armorica. What better testimony could you give the other presbyters than to be busy at the Lord's work?
If you feel that God wants you to shepherd the settlers, then that's what you should do. Besides, I'll be here to speak on your behalf. We're almost like blood brothers. I'm sure I'll be able to answer whatever questions they have. In fact, I can probably speak better on your behalf than you can. Knowing you, you'd sell yourself short." "What an incredible friend you are, Marcus," Patrick exclaimed, putting his arm around his friend.
The two men prayed, then Patrick left Marcus' place to begin preparing for his trip. Three days later, Patrick boarded a ship loaded with British refugees headed for Armorica. As he strolled on the deck, enjoying the cool ocean air, he realized how refreshing it was to get away from the discouragement and gloom that had enveloped Britain. The ship tacked its way across the channel until the wild rocky coast of Brittany was in sight.
With superb seamanship, the experienced captain safely guided the ship into a small inlet on the Armorican coast. Leaving the ship, Patrick accompanied Gaius and the other voyagers to the settlement. He liked this gently undulating land, cooled by the salty breezes of the sea. Here the settlers could live in peace, supporting themselves from the sea and raising sheep and other animals on the land. Perhaps their hearts would turn once again to God.
"This is indeed a wonderful place, Gaius," Patrick said aloud, as his eyes studied the land around him. "If God hadn't called me to Ireland, I would think of settling here with you." "So it's still Ireland, is it?" Gaius asked, rather surprised. "I thought you had given up on that idea long ago." "If it had been my idea, I would have. But it's God who has called me there." Patrick spent a couple of months with the settlers until a permanent presbyter came from Britain to take his place.
After that, Patrick journeyed on to Gaul for a few weeks. He savored his time there with the Christians he had met as a young man on his way back from Ireland. "I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed my time with you," he finally told his friends. "But I mustn't stay any longer. I need to find out what's happening at home." The next day he departed for Britain. When Patrick arrived at home, his father met him with a downcast face. "Sit down, Patrick," he said.
"I'm afraid I have some discouraging news for you." "Is it, mother?" Patrick asked anxiously, studying his father's face. "No, your mother is fine. The news is concerning you. While you were in Gaul, your name was proposed for ordination as a bishop." "Yes, I knew that this might happen," Patrick responded with a sigh of relief. "Bishop Branuch had told me. But Marcus was here to speak up for me." Calpurnius paused for a moment, hesitating to go further. Patrick reassured him.
"Father, it isn't going to break my heart if they turn me down as a bishop. I had never asked to be made one in the first place." "Yes, they turned you down," Calpurnius replied soberly, searching for the right words. "But there's more to the story than that. Marcus did speak to the council of presbyters as you said. However, he... uh, well, he spoke against you, not for you." Patrick could hardly believe what he was hearing. "No, father, there must be some mistake," he gasped. "Marcus is the dearest friend I have.
He would never say even one word against me." "Oh, but he did. Worse than that, he brought up something that I didn't even know about. He said that you confessed to him that when you were fifteen, you..." Patrick's face flushed with embarrassment. "He told the presbyters that? That happened almost thirty years ago. I scarcely believed in God at that time. What bearing does that have on my ordination now?" "Apparently, the leaders felt you weren't beyond reproach, one of the qualifications for a bishop.
So they nominated Julius instead." "Julius?" Patrick repeated. He stood up and paced for a few minutes, beginning to calm down. "I guess Julius will make a suitable bishop. I can live with that." He then slumped back down on the couch. When he sensed that Patrick could handle more, Calpurnius continued. "There's still more, son. The story has spread throughout the village. Now everyone knows about it." Patrick fell on his face, buried his head in his hands, and began to sob.
"I can't believe he would do such a thing. I can't believe it. Why would he betray me like this?" Calpurnius lovingly patted his son's back. They both were silenced for a few moments. Finally, Calpurnius said softly, "Son, this is the most treacherous thing I've ever heard of. You're a very outspoken person, Patrick, and you've made a lot of enemies over the years. But I never expected that it would be Marcus who would betray you like this." Sitting up, Patrick squeezed his father's hand reassuringly.
His father continued, "You know that your mother and I have never wanted you to go to Ireland. Yet, we're both truly sorry for what has happened. Your name has been blackened unfairly. What's worse for you anyway, not for your mother and me, is that I'm quite certain that now they will never authorize you to go to Ireland."