Swords from Without, Cracks from Within

Part 3 in The War Unseen: The Long Battle Against Christ and His Church

This article is Part 3 in a series. Be sure to start with Part 1!

This article is Part 3 in a series. After Part 1, be sure to read Part 2!

Author's Note: What follows is a personal hypothesis. While I am a devoted member of the Orthodox Church, this work does not reflect the official position of the Orthodox Church nor does it speak on behalf of it.

Rather, it represents my own synthesis and reflection on the long historical arc of spiritual warfare I believe has been waged against God, Christ, and His Church from the moment of the Incarnation until now. Ideas and concepts articulated within this article come from my own understanding of early church and reformation history, orthodox and roman catholic podcasts and some evangelical sources. (Where these types of views tend to be the most prevalent.)

WARNING: This article contains graphic depictions of the Roman persecutions of Christians. Reader discretion is advised.

The midday sun beats down on the stone of a Roman amphitheater nestled in the greenery of Roman Gaul. The harsh light glints off the polished helmets of the guards and the sweat-slicked faces of the jeering crowd. A thousand voices in a single monstrous roar reverberate through the open air; a terrible sound filled with bestial bloodlust and demented celebratory glee.

Your hands are bound, the rough rope biting into your wrists. Around you are your brothers and sisters in Christ, a trembling flock amidst a sea of ravenous wolves. Young children clutch their mothers’ legs, wide-eyed with terror, some screaming as gangs of men repeatedly take turns ravaging their mothers, others watch silently in horror, too afraid to cry, silent tears drying on their cheeks. The smell of dust, sweat, excrement, and the copper tang of blood hang heavy in the muggy heat.

A chilling cry erupts from the crowd as the gates at the other end of the arena groan open. A lion pads out onto the sand, mane a halo of gold and rust. But its attention is not on you. It fixes on Bishop Pothinus — frail, 90 years old, carried forward by soldiers more than walking under his own strength. He is bent and battered, broken bones jut out and stretch the skin of his body at odd angles, broken by days of abuse.

Only two days ago, he stood before the governor who demanded to know the name of the God of the Christians. “If you are worthy,” he said, “you shall know.” For that defiance, he was dragged through the streets, beaten with fists, feet, clubs, and whatever objects the mob could seize. His ribs protrude at grotesque angles, purple bruises blossom over his face, and he breathes shallowly. Now they strip him of his robes, leaving him in a simple tunic, and thrust him forward again. The crowd howls as soldiers strike him with blunt clubs, the thuds and crunching of bone audible even over the roar. He collapses in the sand, blood pooling around him, too near death for the beasts to bother with. To the pagans, it is a spectacle. To the Bishop, it is a crown.

Then your eyes fall upon Blandina — a slave girl, slight, fragile, seemingly the weakest among you. And yet, she has endured more than any. From the first day of questioning, you watched from your cell as they tortured her relentlessly, determined to break her. They scourged her until flesh hung in loose ribbons from her back. They burned her with hot irons, repeatedly branding her with the names of false gods until every bit of her skin was scarred. They suspended her on a stake in the form of a cross, exposed to wild beasts. To everyone’s astonishment, she endured everything without a cry of despair. Her confession never changed: “I am a Christian, and nothing wicked is done among us.”

Now they bring her forth again. The guards drive her toward a massive bull. The beast charges, tossing her into the air again and again, her body thudding against the sand. And yet she rises, bloodied but radiant, her lips moving in prayer. The crowd is in awe — not of her God, but of her impossible endurance. To you, she is living proof that Christ dwells in the weakest vessel, making it unbreakable.

One by one, others are brought forward. A guard holds out a brazier of burning coals. “Burn a pinch of incense to the gods,” he sneers, “and live.”

Marcus, a stonemason with hands calloused from years of work, looks at the coals, then at his wife, and finally to heaven. He shakes his head. The guard plunges a dagger into his chest. Thomas, an old baker, follows him, refusing, and the blade finds his heart. Women are scourged and ravaged unto death, children are threatened, the elderly mocked and beaten — but all hold firm.

The amphitheater becomes a theater of satanic cruelty. Wild beasts maul, soldiers rape and stab, and fire consumes. The crowd’s roar is a symphony of hate, each cheer a hammer blow against your soul. And yet, as you watch, you begin to see something else: a strange reversal. For the martyrs are not victims but victors. Their deaths are not defeats but testimonies. Their broken bodies are not waste but seeds that will sprout forth in the hearts and minds of those who come after.

You know your time is coming. Your hands are still bound, but your will is not. Your body is weak, but your faith burns like fire. You will not falter. You will not give in. Your life is not your own. It belongs to Christ. You will meet the lion, the sword, the scourge, or whatever they devise, with your head held high, for you are not alone. Pothinus and Blandina, Marcus and Thomas, your brothers and sisters already slain, surround you like a great cloud of witnesses.

You close your eyes and pray, not for deliverance, but for strength to endure it well. You are ready, for it is not you who lives, but Christ God who lives within you.

Welcome to the world of the early Church. ¹

When the devil’s pagan counterfeits not only failed to prevent the rapid spread of the Gospel but began to collapse, the demons shifted tactics. The first was violence: direct persecution, designed to terrify Christians into apostasy. The second was infiltration: heresies to corrupt the faith from the inside and then grow to attack it from without. Both strategies appeared early on, and both were deadly. Both still exist in the devil’s playbook and are constantly employed today.

Beyond the Paywall

• We cover the periods of Christian persecutions as well as the stories of brave martyrs and how they stood true in their faith despite persecution.

• How the church grew stronger and emerged from the persecutions to triumph over paganism.

• The major heresies of the first millennium, how the devil attempted to use them to undermine the church, and how echoes of them persist today.