Chapter 13. Another Dream. Patrick spent the rest of that day in his room, in prayer. For the first time in years, he began to lose faith in God. However, that night, God once more appeared to him in a dream. In this dream, a group of presbyters and bishops were holding up a written document that condemned Patrick. Suddenly, in the dream, God spoke from heaven to Patrick, "We have seen the face of Marcus with displeasure." When Patrick awoke the next morning, a ray of hope touched his heart. "Father!
Mother!" he shouted as he ran down the stairs. "Let me tell you about my dream!" "Another dream, Patrick?" Calpornius asked as he hastily finished dressing. Conchessa quickly joined her husband, eager to hear about Patrick's new dream. With a beaming face, Patrick related the events of his dream.
"What really excites me is that God didn't say, 'You have seen Marcus' face with displeasure.' No, He said, 'We have seen his face with displeasure.' In other words, God was including Himself in the situation, as though He were standing by my side through the whole thing." "Yes," Conchessa reflected thoughtfully. "I see what you mean." "I can't help thinking about the verse that says, 'He who touches you touches the apple of my eye,'" Patrick noted.
Lifting his arms in praise, he continued, "What does it matter that my best friend has betrayed me? What does it matter if the church leaders are against me? God is clearly on my side. That's all that matters." "What a sudden turnaround of events," Calpornius responded with a big smile. "But what do you think God is going to do now?" "I have no idea," Patrick replied, shrugging his shoulders. "All I know is that if God is for me, who can be against me?" The family enjoyed a leisurely breakfast together.
"You know," Patrick observed between mouthfuls, "Jesus has helped me to understand what He felt when He was betrayed by one of His own apostles. In His mercy, He's let me personally taste a small bit of the anguish He experienced hundreds of years ago. Actually, I've gotten off rather lightly. I've only been crucified with words. Jesus was crucified with nails." Patrick paused for a moment, taking some more bites and reflecting again on the dream.
But it was quite different news that the people in the village were rejoicing about that morning. "Have you heard the report?" someone excitedly asked Patrick in the street later that morning. "What report?" Patrick replied with a puzzled look on his face. "Why, the report's about the Saxons. They've already engaged the Picts in battle and have sent them scurrying back to the mountains of the far north.
We're finally going to have peace and security again in Britain." Patrick thanked the man for the news, and he relayed it to his parents that evening. "Yes, I heard the same thing from the other decurions this afternoon," Calpornius responded. "Let's just hope the peace lasts. With peace, perhaps we can address the serious economic needs of our country. I don't want to alarm you, but the news I heard concerning our economy is distressing.
Our whole Roman way of life is grinding to a slow halt, both economically and governmentally." "Why? What's happened?" Patrick asked in a concerned voice. "Well, for one thing, it's been years since any new coinage has been minted. As a result, the whole country is running out of coins. Out of necessity, most people are now bartering for goods and services." "Well, I'm no stranger to that," Patrick smiled. "I lived with that for years in Ireland." "Ireland?
Yes, before long perhaps Britain will be reduced to the level of Ireland. We once had a thriving economy. Now that's totally collapsed. No taxes have been collected for years. Once there were good roads connecting all the major cities of Britain, but those roads haven't been maintained in decades, and now they're too dangerous to travel at night." "Patrick, I—" "Patrick? Aren't you listening?" "I'm sorry, Father," Patrick quickly apologized, as if coming out of a daydream.
"I know I should be all concerned about those things, but I'm afraid that right now my mind is on the lost souls in Ireland. It's been over twenty years since God called me to walk again among the Irish. Now my beard is gray. Yet here I am, still stuck in Britain." "Why don't you focus then on the lost souls here?" Conchessa inquired, gently taking hold of Patrick's hand. "Oh, I'm definitely concerned about them, too. But nobody pays any attention to my preaching here.
I'm afraid Marcus has permanently tarnished my reputation. Not that very many people ever listen to my preaching anyway. But now nobody does, except Loman and his group of young men. Everyone else thinks I'm nothing but a self-righteous hypocrite." Patrick found solace in the company of Loman, Crispus, and other spiritually minded younger men. Loman and Crispus had remained true to their word. They never married, but instead had remained steadfast in their commitment to go with Patrick to Ireland.
Through Patrick's help, they had even become fluent in Gaelic. Often they accompanied Patrick when he witnessed to Irish merchants and seamen. "Have you found it in your heart to forgive Marcus yet?" Loman asked Patrick one day as they were walking through a nearby meadow. "Not yet," Patrick answered slowly. "I know I need to. I can't ask Christ to forgive my sins if I don't forgive those of my fellow men. But it's really difficult.
I haven't even figured out why He did what He did." "Jealousy, no doubt," Loman replied. "Jealousy? Why would anyone, let alone Marcus, be jealous of me? What do I have that he doesn't?" "You're a presbyter, and he isn't." "But Marcus never gave the slightest hint that it bothered him." Patrick sat down on a boulder and removed a pebble from his sandal. "In fact, he was the first one to suggest that I be made a bishop." "Yes, but maybe his suggestion wasn't sincere," Loman interjected.
"Obviously it wasn't," Patrick agreed. "Please pray for me. I know I need to forgive him, but I'm really struggling. Anyway, I don't even know where he is. You know, he left town shortly before I returned from Armorica." "I guess he couldn't bear to face you after what he did," Loman observed, feeling fiercely loyal toward Patrick. "I hear he lives up the coast now with an uncle." Four more years passed by tediously. They seemed like an eternity to Patrick.
He called out to God, weeping bitter tears, begging Him to give him permission to bypass the church leaders. But God wouldn't allow him. He continued to implore the other leaders, but they paid no heed to his entreaties. His primary opponents among the clergy continued to be Quintus, who still looked down on Patrick because of his lack of schooling and his poor grasp of theological intricacies. However, later that year, news arrived that made even Quintus reconsider things. "Father!
And Mother!" Patrick burst through the front door, leaving it half-opened. "Guess what?" he said, gasping to catch his breath. "I've just learned that the bishop of Rome has sent a man named Palladius to Ireland." "So Rome is going to try to convert the Irish," Conchessa commented, sitting down. "But why are you so excited? Doesn't that mean the door is closed to you now?" "No, I don't think so," Patrick reflected.
"As I understand it, Palladius' mission is not so much to convert the pagan Irish as it is to minister to the many Christians who are now in Ireland." "I didn't realize there were Christians in Ireland," Calpornius responded in surprise. "Of course there are," Patrick explained. "Think of all of the Christians from Britain who've been taken to Ireland. In addition, some of the Irish have converted to Christianity. As you know, I've converted a few myself from preaching to the Irish merchants in London.
Others have been converted through the testimony of their slaves or from contacts with Christians in the course of trade." "I see," Calpornius said, leaning back in his chair. "The important thing," Patrick continued, "is that if Rome thinks Ireland is worthy of its attention, how can the British church continue to ignore it?" Patrick was right. Suddenly, Patrick's request to go to Ireland didn't seem so foolish to his peers.
In fact, within a few months, the aged bishop Branoch called the clergymen of his area into council. "Brothers, we have made a big mistake. In fact, I don't hesitate to say we've sinned against God." "What are you referring to?" Quintus asked politely. "Nearly twenty-five years ago, God called a man from our community to go and bring the good news of Christ to the Irish. But today, the Irish are still dying without ever having heard of Christ. Why? Because of our lack of faith.
We've never sent the man that God chose. Now Rome has sent a bishop to Ireland. I see this as a direct rebuke from God to the Church of Britain. We've failed in our duty. Perhaps now He's bypassed us." "But it's not too late to send Patrick. Why don't we send him now?" one of the presbyters volunteered. Feeling sheepish, the other leaders hastily agreed. "So you're ready to have him ordained as a bishop, then?" Branoch asked. "Well, no, we don't mean that he would be ordained as a bishop," Quintus explained.
"But I think we're all ready to send him as a presbyter." "I see," Branoch retorted. "So when he plants churches, he has to take his Irish converts to Rome's bishop so that Rome can ordain them to the ministry. Is that what we want? We plant churches in Ireland just so they can come under Rome's jurisdiction?" "But what about Patrick's great sin?" another presbyter interjected. "You mean what he did when he was fifteen, before he ever knew God?" Branoch's thin face was flushed with anger.
"Patrick's forty-eight years old now. Can he never be forgiven? Do you want to know about the sins I committed before I knew God?" "But Patrick is so uncouth," Quintus protested. "His Latin is barbaric. After all these years, he still doesn't know the fine points of theology." "But he knows the scriptures, probably better than you do. And more importantly, he knows God. That's what matters." Branoch was visibly flushed and had begun to raise his voice.
"No one's asking you to make him a bishop to serve here in Britain. We're talking about making him a bishop for Ireland." At last, the reluctant leaders agreed to have Patrick ordained as a bishop of the Irish. When the news of their decision reached Patrick, he was beside himself with joy. He threw back his head and shouted praises to heaven. After telling the news to his parents, he immediately reported it to Loman, Crispus, and the other young men of their group.
"I know you've said all along that you want to go with me," he told Loman and Crispus in a serious tone. "But I want you to know that it's still okay to back out. All I can promise you in Ireland are hunger, cold, suffering, and possibly death. You may never see your loved ones again. I fully expect to die in Ireland, but not before many souls are won to Christ. God would not be sending me unless He knew that the Irish were ready to receive the gospel.
I still welcome your help, but make certain this is really what you want to do." "Our decision was made years ago," Loman replied without hesitation. "We've already counted the cost. We'd rather die in God's service in Ireland than to spend our lives here, watching our own nation slowly die." Crispus nodded his head in agreement. Later that week, two of the other young men in their group volunteered to join the mission.
Patrick's parents generously supported Patrick's mission by donating food, clothing, items for barter, and other supplies. Branoch saw to it that the British church provided some additional supplies. Eventually, the day of Patrick's ordination arrived. It didn't take place in his home village of Bannavem Taburniae, but at Corwinium, a larger city not too far away. Three bishops, dozens of presbyters and deacons, and a number of other people were present.
Patrick was in tears during most of the service, both tears of joy and tears of sorrow at his own unworthiness. He realized that he had never completely forgiven Marcus. "Please forgive him, Father," Patrick prayed silently. "I forgive him for what he has done." Patrick immediately felt a great weight lifted off of his shoulders. Finally, the three bishops laid their hands on Patrick, and one of them prayed over him. As the bishop prayed, Patrick felt the anointing of the Holy Spirit on his soul.
The deacons then brought Patrick the bread and wine, and Patrick celebrated communion with the congregation. At the conclusion of the ordination, all of the people came up to Patrick in single file to be blessed by him, as was the custom. He warmly greeted each person and laid his hands on them to bless them. Looking up, he suddenly noticed Marcus sitting at the back of the church. Patrick smiled, looking forward to blessing Marcus and giving him the kiss of peace.
However, rather than coming up to greet Patrick, Marcus quietly slipped out the door and slowly walked away from the church. Patrick prayed inwardly that Marcus would come back, but he didn't. A few weeks later, a small crowd assembled on a narrow, sandy beach surrounded by rocks, where Patrick's boat was ready to sail. Patrick addressed the group briefly and then tenderly kissed his aged parents goodbye. With that, he set sail for Ireland.
From a rocky ledge in the distance, a solitary figure watched Patrick leave, gazing at the small boat until it disappeared in the mist. The man then broke down and wept.