Quo Vadis and Martyrdom
25/01/2010I just finished reading a book called Quo Vadis that is written by a Polish man from the late 1800s named Henryk Sienkiewicz. It is “the story of the love that develops between a young Christian woman and a Roman officer who, after meeting her fellow Christians, converts to her religion. Underlying their relationship is the contrast between the worldly opulence of the Roman aristocracy and the poverty, simplicity, and spiritual power of the Christians.” (Disclaimer: It seems to be written from a pro-Catholic slant so it contains some “interesting” theology.)
What was powerful about it for me was that it put me right in the lives of the early Christians as they struggled to survive underneath the oppressive, anti-Christian reign of Nero. It helped me to see that the truest expression of Christianity is seen in the midst of persecution when the message of forgiveness for our enemies and a hope in the resurrection and kingdom comes out most powerfully. In that day, the church was not trying to change laws or come up with strategies for world domination. They were sojourners in a foreign kingdom witnessing through word and deed of another King who would soon come to destroy Rome and establish His Kingdom.
Inevitably, this refusal to recognize Caesar as a god caused them to be hated by Nero and the people. But instead of recanting out of fear when brought to the stake, the Christians would sing hymns to Christ and their faces would light up with peace and joy. The feelings of the crowd turned from mockery and hatred to sympathy and wonder when they saw the forgiveness and the hope of the Christians. In this way, their deaths were not in vain but helped to spread the good news of the love and mercy of Christ towards sinners.
Tertullian, the early church writer, observed, “The oftener we are mown down by you, the more in number we grow; the blood of Christians is seed,” or, as the famous paraphrase says, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” I do not mean to say that suffering is intrinsically good, that we should somehow strive to have suffering in our lives, or that it is the only way the church grows, but I do want to say that there is something about persecution and suffering that causes the most powerful expression of God’s heart towards humanity to come forth.
In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, there is a strange verse that reads, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body, which is the church, in filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (1:24). Is Paul insinuating that the Jesus’ atonement for our sins on the cross was incomplete? No; what I believe that Paul is saying is that the love and forgiveness of Jesus that He demonstrated on the cross is to be continually revealed to the wicked through the sufferings of the saints. When Christians suffer and respond in forgiveness and hope instead of vindication and fear, we show people what Jesus is like that they might repent. John Piper says, “The afflictions are lacking in the sense that they are not seen and known among the nations. They must be carried by ministers of the gospel. And those ministers of the gospel fill up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ by extending them to others.”
As I write this, I am painfully aware of my fear of suffering and know that I could not suffer in a way that would demonstrate Christ’s afflictions. But I want to. I can only pray that I would experience His love and forgiveness for humanity and the hope I have in the Kingdom in a such a deep way that I would be compelled to suffer with joy and love.