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RECLAIMING ST. PATRICK

Today most people know St. Patrick for green beer, banishing snakes from Ireland, using shamrocks to teach the Trinity, or his walking stick growing into a living tree. Indeed, none of these legends has anything to do with the real Patrick.

However, the factual accounts of Patrick, missionary to Ireland, are even more compelling than the folklore. Telling the true story of Patrick provides an inspiring lesson in God's grace and mercy.

While other 1,500-year-old characters in history are difficult to research because too few writings have survived time, Patrick is hard to study because so much has been written about him. The bulk of the writings on Patrick are lore, fiction, and embellishment. In uncovering the real Patrick we must sift through ten fictional accounts of his life to find one factual work.

From Slave to Evangelist

As a teenager Patrick was kidnapped, taken from his home in southern Britain, and sold into slavery on the island of Ireland. During his six years as a slave he converted to Christianity and earned a reputation as a fervent evangelist. In the dark of the night Patrick escaped his bonds and fled Ireland. Following a long journey home he entered theological training and full-time service to the Lord. God spoke to Patrick in his dreams and told him that he would return to Ireland and serve as a missionary to the people who had kept him in servitude.

In AD 432, 25 years after fleeing Ireland, Patrick returned to the place of his bondage. He did not return with malice in his heart, but as a missionary eager to convert the Irish. Patrick served in regions of Ireland where outsiders had never traveled. While roaming through Ireland he preached to pagans and also instructed Christian believers. Patrick trained Irish helpers and ordained native clergy. He was bringing a new way of life to a violent, war-oriented pagan culture. His work was both groundbreaking and Christ-honoring.

“Daily I expect to be murdered or betrayed or reduced to slavery if the occasion arises,” Patrick wrote while serving in Ireland. “But I fear nothing, because of the promises of heaven.”

Many brutal kings and warlords felt threatened by Patrick's work. In order to obtain the favor of local leaders and to gain safe passage, Patrick paid penance, or bribes, to authorities. He used the rulers to gain access to their lands just as they used Patrick to gain wealth and favor with Christians. Of the bribes he paid, Patrick proclaimed, “I do not regret this nor do I regard it as enough. I am paying out still and I shall pay out more.”

Missionary Ahead of His Time

In fifth-century Ireland women were a commodity. Selling a daughter or arranging a politically strategic marriage was common and advantageous to a family. Patrick upset the social order by teaching women they had a choice in Christ. As God converted these women to Christianity, some became full-time servants of Christ in the face of strong family opposition. Patrick told women they could be “virgins for Christ” by remaining chaste. This newfound control was appealing to many women, but it angered many men who believed Patrick was taking away their prized possessions.

At the time many scholars regarded Ireland as the end of the earth, or at least the edge of the inhabitable portion of earth. The collapsing Roman Empire supported many beliefs that civilized society was drawing to a close. Politicians and philosophers viewed Ireland as barbaric and untamable. Many Christians did not believe the Irish were worthy of being saved. At that point in history, Patrick truly served as a pioneering missionary to a forgotten people.

Patrick advocated learning among Christians. He promoted the ascetic life and monasticism. The Irish culture did not place great value on literacy or education. Patrick, however, promoted studying the Scriptures as well as reading books written by fathers of the faith.

Recovering the True Patrick

Patrick entered an Ireland full of paganism and idol worship. But just a few short decades after Patrick arrived, a healthy, Christ-honoring church was thriving. The Irish church was so strong that in the centuries to come it would send missionaries to evangelize much of continental Europe. Patrick's legacy lives on through the countless spiritual grandchildren he left to continue his work.

Patrick lived in a way that brought honor to God. His devotion and resolute obedience offer examples for all followers of Christ. Patrick stood in the face of great challenges and did not falter. His service, his life, and his unwavering commitment to spreading the gospel of Christ are as commendable today as they were in the fifth century.

We as Christians have allowed the modern, secular customs of St. Patrick's Day to steal away one of the greatest missionaries in Christian history and reduce his memory to leprechauns, green beer, and fictional tales. Let's take back our beloved servant of Christ and share God's glory achieved during the life of Patrick the missionary to Ireland. Let's share the true legacy of this great Christian evangelist.

-Mike Pettengill

Last night I read my boys a story about a little boy who had a mama donkey and a baby donkey. The little donkey was still young and had not yet been used to carry any loads yet. This little guy was this boy’s pet. 

One day, two men came and untied the animals. The boy’s father asked what was happening and the men simply stated “The Master has need of them.”

The man gladly offered the donkeys and the boy had a decision: fight to keep what was his or obey the Master. He chose the hard path and the men walked away with the boy’s pet. 

As you could probably guess, this little boy witnesses The Messiah fulfilling yet another prophecy by sitting upon that pet as He rode into Jerusalem that same day. In the story the boy went from feelings of sacrifice and anxiety to overwhelming awe as Jesus Himself was finally given the worship, affection and glory He deserved. 

At the end of the story I told my boys that there will be many times in their lives where God will ask something of them, and they will have to chose to surrender, sacrifice, and/or obey God. It sounds hard but if you do this, God will always show you how Good He really is. 

"The Master has need of them."

“As Jesus and his followers were coming closer to Jerusalem, they stopped at Bethphage at the hill called the Mount of Olives. From there Jesus sent two of his followers and said to them, “Go to the town you can see there. When you enter it, you will quickly find a donkey tied there with its colt. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone asks you why you are taking the donkeys, say that the Master needs them, and he will send them at once.””

Matthew 21:1-3 NCV

There will be times in our lives where it’s clear that God is asking us to obey Him. We always have the choice, obey or not. If we do what God is asking it will require some type of sacrifice. So why would we? The end result of your obedience will always outweigh your sacrifice. Test God in this and see if He is good. 

Tell me a story: 

When did you simply “know” God was asking something of you? 

What happened?

What was the end result?

Here is a story of mine:

I have many, but something came to my mind tonight from 22 years ago. 

I was 18, studying to be a “missionary” (I wanted my life to be missional) at YWAM. I had been overseas several times by age 18, but this was my longest and farthest trip yet. I was spending 5 weeks in Madagascar. I packed a big backpack, a little Bible, lots of bottled water, and a way too heavy guitar for hiking miles in the jungle. 

I had already made the decision to give up all comforts of home for 5 weeks of no electricity or running water. I had already chosen to learn how to be “a nurse” by taking night classes for several weeks before this trip so I could take vitals, read prescriptions and help with bandages if needed. I had said goodbye to my family hoping I’d make it home in one piece and without any nasty diseases that I did NOT get vaccinated for (because I ran out of money and was too embarrassed to ask my parents for more).

None of this was what I felt God was asking me to obey Him in. It was a bit of a sacrifice but not really, because I was so ready to see the world and to feel like I could make a difference. 

We flew into the capitol city, and from there we took a 6 seater plane to the coast, where we landed on grass (and I got to sit in the copilot seat which was a dream of mine being that I don’t have 3D vision and can’t pilot). We got in the back of large cargo trucks and sat on the wood with tropical wind blowing my hair and trucked into the jungle as far as that dirt road would go. Then we walked, all day, into the night. On a path in the middle of the jungle, alone. We arrived at a river we could not cross, but suddenly small canoes arrived on the shore and began paddling 2 of us across at a time (still nighttime without flashlights or electricity). Safely across the river we had arrived at our wooden huts where we would set out our tents to keep out the bugs I could and could not see (but they all seemed to bite). (Also hissing cockroaches are a real thing) 

This was our first village. Here I got madly sunburned as I spend days on my knees in front of nearly 1,000 people who needed medical care. Many many prescriptions given for worms, some for more severe illness ofTB and even leprosy. This to me was… awesome. It did take some getting used to the go number 2 in a hole on the ground but, when you gotta go… 

Our jungle days were spend educating, treating and building. And at night, we ate weird things like shark, eel and rice, pumpkin and someone gave us a goose. We sang, and giggled and hoped time would slow down. 

Village number two was built upon the side of a mountain where a deep valley was filled with rice paddies. We learned to walk on the dark green mounds of earth that separated water from water to go from mountain to mountain. I bathed in the coldest, freshest mountain water you could imagine. I climbed to the top of a mountain that took me a day to reach. I stood in the valley, gazing up to the tops of the hills where glorious tombs were built to honor the dead in the native’s primary religion of ancestral worship. The people LIVED in mud huts built into the rock of the mountain with very little to eat and very little comfort- yet once they died their family was required to offer them beauty, riches and worship. In that valley, I felt the truth of David’s song “as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death”. Here I was asked to join in a time of prayer for a family with a terribly ill child. If this child was healed, the people then would believe in the Jesus we outsiders spoke of and join the small Christian church that had been established by a family in this village. If there was no healing, they would continue their traditional worship requiring more than they had to give. Praying for the child was not what The Master had need of me for. But prayed I did, with All my heart. And the child was not miraculously healed that day. But, he did gradually heal until fully recovered by the time we left them for good. The church that had been started in this village had another validation of God’s deep love. 

At our third village was the most difficult to get to and the most difficult… period. Although the bus ride through the mountains, up and down the incredibly narrow and severely winding roads would cause the weak stomach to lurch, I loved it. And At this point in our journey, our group had grown into a family. A family that had helped each other find things to replace toilet paper with, and applied medicated ointment to second degree sunburns and held one another as we cried over the overwhelming malnutrition and poverty we had actually witnessed face to face. We had a bond. 

Through the mountains we ended at a jungle home to ring tailed lemurs that transitioned into wide open spaces filled with little house on the prairie grass as far as you could see… or walk. We would have little water to filter along this 20 mile hike, so we got to carry our water on our backs (and that dumb guitar). The village was so spread out we could only see one large concrete building. This was used for all community needs and this is where we slept. This is where we tried to catch a very fast chicken and actually cooked an egg on the porch. 

This is where God asked me to obey. 

This village was, different. They traditionally did not accept foreign white visitors, due to their history. Madagascar was once taken over by white foreigners from France. Many natives who resisted the French colonization where taken from their homes and put on a train. Just outside this village was a burial ground… where the French executed hundreds of Malagasy people who just wanted to stay Malagasy. 

There was a deep resentment and pain that lingered here, and sadly it was as though the land was cursed. Very little grew here and the percentage of miscarriages was significantly higher than anywhere in the country. Many of us, including myself got terribly ill while we stayed here. And the heaviness of depression was very real upon my soul. 

My team leader was a humble and wonderful man of God. After hearing the stories of depression, disparity and even death, he was moved to action. We invited as many people from the village to join us white people at the burial site. My leader knelt down before them and asked for forgiveness, as a white foreigner, to represent the depravity their ancestors had undeservedly received. He then took off his shirt, took his water bottle and began to wash the feet of the eldest men and woman in our gathering. We then stood together in a circle and held hands, black hands and white hands, joining together. We we prayed, and prayed and begged God to forgive this wrong and heal this land, to heal these people. I opened my eyes to see a beam of sunlight break through the sky filled with clouds. I broke open with tears of adoration for my God’s great mercy and His unmatched power to heal. We sang in English, they sang in Malagasy. And my life has never been the same since this day. 

The next day, I was told that many people from the village would be coming to listen to us teach them about Jesus and significant truths from the Bible. I was asked to speak (with help of an interpreter) at several of these sessions. I was asked if I would be willing, but I was afraid. And in my heart I knew God wasn’t asking me. The Master has need of… you. I could sing and get lost in moments of worship- but up until this point in my life, I felt like something was “wrong” with me. I wasn’t normal and I just could not speak to adults. I felt inferior, unadjusted and downright immature (I was). Maybe because I recognized this, I truly believed that all adults thought me to be stupid or simply not worth their time. And God was telling me to let go of my (non)truths and preach the gospel to All, and today it would be African Adults. I could have said, I’m not good at public speaking, or lied and said I don’t feel well… but, I chose to obey. 

I looked through the Bible, page after page, what would I teach on?! I found something in the book of John, I made some notes and I prayed. I put on my cleanest skirt (it was far from clean at this point in the trip) and I stood at the front of a room where 30-40 people had gathered! To hear me and my new family teach them about this Bible they did not yet know. 

I obeyed. 

I’d love to say I was awesome, but thankfully God didn’t let me get a big head. I don’t even remember what I taught. Somehow through my jumbles ideas, the truth of the gospel of Jesus came through my words into places it had not yet been heard. 

I have grown from this moment into more and more moments of letting God tell His story through me. That end result is part of the core of my happiness in Life. 

A very wise (and my very favorite) Pastor told me many times in my life that “you can never out give God.” Also “you never lose by giving.” I have personally experienced the truth of Those words many times. And if The Master every requires anything of me, I pray every time, I will immediately be willing.