Hearing God’s Voice, Obeying God’s Call: The Story of St. Patrick retold by Vintage Mama
Hearing God’s Voice, Obeying God’s Call: The Story of St. Patrick who never went away.
Soft gray mist swirled silently around the cottage where Patrick waited for daybreak. Although it was springtime in the village Dalraida, the early mornings were always damp and chilly in the northern Irish countryside. Patrick lay shivering in the predawn darkness, far from the warmth of the embers still glowing in the fireplace at the center of the round house of Milchu. As Milchu’s servant, Patrick was allowed only to be in the cuile, the smaller room at the back of the turf home, where there was little warmth or light. In the early morning quiet, Patrick’s thoughts returned to his home and family back in Roman Britain. He thought fondly of his parents, Calphurnius and Conchessa, and his life as the only son of a Roman noble family. His father was the decurio for their Roman village, and his mother was a near relative of the great patron of Gaul, St. Martin of Tours. He remembered days of his youth, as the privileged son of a high-ranking Roman official, for whom no expenses were spared for his comfort and pleasure. Patrick also recalled the days when he first realized the mercy and grace that God had so lovingly expressed to him through the gift of salvation in Jesus, his Savior. But in the midst of the pagan household of the Irish chieftain Milchu, Patrick often struggled with fear and loneliness. His thoughts returned to moments of joy in the loving care of his family, and then he recalled the terror of his captivity, when he was snatched from his childhood home in the dark night of an autumn thunderstorm. Patrick shuddered as he remembered the rough words of Milchu’s soldiers as they pillaged and plundered the village of his youth. Their language was strange to him, it was not his native Latin tongue, but the unfamiliar Celtic words struck great fear into Patrick’s heart as the marauders shouted orders and roughly shoved his family out into the raging storm. Patrick had been only sixteen years old when he had been captured by Milchu’s soldiers. His family had been forced out of their modest but comfortable home at the point of the soldier’s spears. Their home had been burned, the animals slaughtered, and Patrick had been taken away for ransom. But the ransom had never materialized, after his family’s wealth had all been plundered by the pagan marauders.
Patrick thought of the long years of his captivity, nearly six years in all, during which time he tended the flocks of Milchu, the High Druid of Dalraida, in the valley of the Braid and on the slopes of Slemish Mountain. Patrick thought of all the days in which he pastured the flocks, and each day he would pray many times, up to one hundred prayers a day. He recalled how God had protected him, and his love and fear of God increased, as did his faith, so that many times he would stay out in the forests and up on the mountain, praying before daylight in the snow and icy coldness of winter. He thought of the chilly, rainy days of spring and even through the summer in the North of Ireland when he would seek God’s presence. And even in the midst of the misery of captivity, Patrick sensed God’s presence, as he neither experienced any illness as he wandered the valley of the Braid, nor weariness in his spirit because God’s Spirit burned in his heart through the lonely days of his servitude. Now Patrick realized that if he was ever to return to his home and family, he must find a way to escape the grasp of his master. In the damp, dark predawn mist, Patrick suddenly heard the rustling of the wind in the trees outside the cuile, and he felt the presence of his Heavenly Father in the humble dwelling. Patrick began to pray, whispering in the silence of the morning, asking God to reveal to him what he must do. As the mist of the morning began to lift, Patrick clearly heard God revealing to his heart that it was time to escape from his captivity, and God Himself would guide Him: "You do well to fast, my child: soon you will depart for your home country." And then, a very short time later, Patrick heard a voice prophesying: "Behold, your ship is ready." But how could he escape from Milchu, when his soldiers were ever-present, watching over the pastures and the mountainside? As the morning sun dispersed the dampness of the mist, Patrick arose from his straw mat in the cuile and went outside where the sheep were awaiting his arrival. Throughout that long day, keeping watch over the flocks in the valley of the Braid, Patrick prayed that God would give him wisdom for the next steps he must take on his journey home. He could see the soldiers of Milchu slumbering in the afternoon sunlight, just over a rise on the slope of the mountain. Suddenly he heard a shout from the direction of the soldiers’ outpost. He looked up to see two of Milchu’s soldiers grasp their spears and run wildly down the mountain side towards the round house of his master. Patrick quickly ran to the place where the soldiers had been resting and looked over the rise, in the direction of the round house. Fire! Great bursting flames of fire were shooting from the roof of the house and spreading rapidly to the back where Patrick’s few meager possessions were hidden in a hole in the floor of the cuile.
All of Milchu’s family, including his servants and the soldiers, were frantically trying to put out the raging fire, and at that moment, Patrick remembered the night when fire had destroyed his own family’s home in Britain. Through the mist of memory, Patrick was suddenly struck by the realization that in the midst of the chaos of the fire, he would have an opportunity to flee from his captivity. Taking only his water pouch and the leftover bread and cheese from his midday meal, Patrick scrambled across the valley of the Braid, skirted around the village of Dalraida, and left Slemish Mountain far behind him. As the late afternoon sunlight slanted long shadows across the valley floor, Patrick ran as quickly as he could in the direction of the western Irish coast, where God had told him that a ship would be awaiting his arrival to take him home to his family in Britain. For many days and nights, Patrick journeyed on with the morning sun at his back, towards Killala Bay and on to Cathair na Mart, 200 miles from the village of his captivity. After a long and lonely journey, Patrick looked down on the seacoast and there he saw row upon row of sailing vessels called curraghs in the bay. He breathed a prayer of gratitude to God for bringing him to the ship which was anchored at the dock, ready to set sail for Britain. Patrick hurried to the captain and begged that he be allowed to board the ship. “If you please, sir, I am bound for my home after many years away and must find a way to travel over the sea,” pleaded Patrick. “Where’s your money, then, lad?” demanded the captain. “I’ve no money, sir, but I will work for my passage,” replied Patrick. “Be gone with you, then, if you’ve no money!” exclaimed the angry captain, turning abruptly from Patrick and limping away. Discouraged but not despondent, Patrick walked slowly from the bustling waterfront, wondering if he had misunderstood God’s message. Wandering slowly back to the hut where he had found a crude shelter from the frequent rains and mist of the northern Irish countryside, Patrick began to pray again, seeking guidance from his Heavenly Father. Convinced that God had spoken to him and had told him to return home to his family in Britain, Patrick trusted that there would be a way through the wilderness that was before him. Suddenly, even before he had finished his prayer, Patrick heard one of the sailors shouting after him: “Come quickly, because the men are calling for you!”
Suddenly, even before he had finished his prayer, Patrick heard one of the sailors shouting after him: “Come quickly, because the men are calling for you!”
Amazed at God’s provision, Patrick turned back towards the rows of curraghs and the rowdy sailing crews, and joined the sailors on the ship bound for Britain. Throughout the long days and weeks of the journey to his home, Patrick was constantly reminded of God’s blessings and provision. Even as the food stores on the ship began to dwindle, and as the sailors harshly reproached Patrick for his steadfast trust in God, he continued to pray and trust his Heavenly Father to bring him to his family home. In those moments of darkness and fear, Patrick sought God’s face and remembered the words he had learned as a young boy, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” Upon disembarking from the curragh on the wild and untamed coast of Britain, Patrick and several of the sailors determined to journey on together to their final destinations. After twenty-eight days of meandering through uninhabited regions of England, wandering aimlessly among the wooded groves and verdant valleys, the rough band of sailors were on the verge of starvation. Fearful of their blame, Patrick constantly prayed that God would sustain them. Then, on the morning of the summer solstice, Patrick again heard the soft whisper of God’s Spirit in the predawn breeze. “Go to the edge of the wood where you will be sustained.” Silently, so as not to awaken his companions, Patrick arose and walked to the edge of the wood as God had guided him. As Patrick broke through the dense thicket, there before him was a tiny sod cottage with a cook fire glowing on the outside hearth. Squatting beside the fire was an ancient, grizzled woman who appeared to be as gray as the ashes in her hearth. “Good mornin’, God’s blessing upon you!” Patrick heralded her so as not to unnecessarily frighten the old woman. “Aye, mornin’ to you, as well, lad,” she replied, barely looking up from the partridge she was roasting over the fire. “We’ve been traveling many miles, and have no provisions for our journey home,” he said, not moving closer for fear of alarming her. “Yes, well come closer to my hearth, lad, and you might share my morning feast,” she croaked. “God has led me here to you, this day,” he explained, “and I know that God will provide,” he began to say. But she just smiled and nodded as she looked into his trusting eyes. “Here, see the traps that I’ve laid behind my cottage,” she pointed with a gnarled finger in the direction of the woods in the back of her rough hut. “And see over here, in the sunlight, the garden where the herbs grow.”
Patrick knew that God had brought him to this place, and he felt in his heart that this was God’s gift, not only to him, but to the unbelieving sailors as well. Many days later, after Patrick parted company with the sailors, he again felt God’s presence as he walked along the dusty road towards his home village. “There is much work for you to do, my child,” God impressed upon his tender heart. This message of encouragement lightened Patrick’s step as he continued on his journey. When the sunlight dropped below the horizon, and Patrick wrapped his tattered cloak around his shoulders and huddled near a fallen log to rest, he dreamed of his home, his family, and the message he had received from God. In his dream he saw a glorious angel, sent from God, who tenderly touched his cheek and told him, “God will honor your sufferings and your obedience, Patrick. It is now time for the next pathway on your journey. Return home to your family for a time, and then you must invest the remainder of your life in telling the Irish people about salvation through Christ.” Upon waking, Patrick felt bewildered but intrigued by this message from God. He traveled on, finally reaching his family’s humble home on the fortieth day of his journey. With much gratitude and rejoicing, his family welcomed him home, and when he told them of God’s guidance in his life, they encouraged him to devote himself to training for the priesthood. Patrick journeyed on the path that God had set before him, and eventually he traveled to France where he joined the monastery of St. Martin’s of Tours, and later had the privilege of studying under the great teacher, St. Germain, the Bishop of Auxerre. During those years, it was the tradition in the territory called Morini, that Patrick was engaged in missionary work among the people. After twelve years in the monastery, Patrick himself became a bishop, and returned to Britain to fulfill his calling to preach salvation. Again God sent an angel to speak to Patrick in a dream in which he was addressed by Victoricus who delivered a letter to him entitled “The Voice of the Irish.” In his dream, Patrick took the letter with trembling hands, knowing that this was a message directly from God to Patrick’s heart and soul. "O holy youth, come back to Erin, and walk once more amongst us," were the words that were written, the voices of the children from Focluth, by the western sea of Ireland. In that moment, it was confirmed in Patrick’s heart that he must return to the land of his captivity. Throughout the months of the springtime of the year 433, Patrick was preparing for the next step in the journey God had set before him. Another missionary priest, Palladius,
had previously received a commission from Pope Celestine I to minister to the pagan Celts of Ireland, but he abandoned his mission after fierce opposition from the Wicklow chieftain had terrified him. And so it was that, shortly before his death, Pope Celestine I sent Patrick on his way to undertake the mission of gathering the Irish race into the one fold of Christ. Late in the summer of that same year, Patrick and his traveling companions landed at the mouth of the Vantry River, close by Wicklow Head. The Druids were immediately up in arms against him, but Patrick was not disheartened. The intrepid missionary resolved to search for a more friendly territory in which to begin his sacred mission. His first objective, however, would be to go directly to the village of Dalraida, where he had been held captive by Milchu, to pay the price of ransom to his former master. Patrick was led by God to share with Milchu the message of God’s gift of salvation in Christ, in exchange for the years of slavery and cruelty that he had endured at Milchu’s hands. Along the way to Dalraida, Patrick traveled northwards where he halted at the mouth of the River Boyne where crowds of Irish peasants gathered around him and listened in amazement and wonder as he shared with them in their native tongue the story of the Savior and His love and forgiveness for each one. Patrick continued on his journey over land towards Slemish Mountain, with the blessing of God’s presence each step of the way. As Patrick came over a rise on the slopes of Slemish, He was struck with horror when he saw in the distance the cottage of his old master, Milchu, enveloped in flames. Having heard of Patrick’s imminent arrival, Milchu was terrified that Patrick intended revenge upon him. Milchu had gathered all of his family treasures into his cottage, and after setting it aflame, he threw himself into the fire. The village peasants whispered amongst themselves that Milchu’s pride could not endure the thought of being vanquished by his former slave.
“Tell them of My great love for them, and tell them of the truth of the Trinity so they will understand My power above their pagan rituals.”
Though saddened by the death of Milchu, Patrick continued his mission to win the hearts of the Irish people for Christ and God honored his work by bringing many of the people to salvation. The work was difficult and Patrick was arrested many times by the Celtic Druids, especially outraged by the conversion among some of the royal families.
During one of his trials, Patrick again heard the voice of God’s Spirit in his soul. “Tell them of My great love for them, and tell them of the truth of the Trinity so they will understand My power above their pagan rituals.” As Patrick looked around him at the emerald green Irish countryside, he suddenly realized that God had given him a way to explain this truth to the people. The assembled chieftains surrounded him as he bent down and plucked a shamrock from the pasture, and listened in wonder as he explained to them the great doctrine of the Blessed Trinity. The triple leaf and single stem, in a simple yet profound image that they could understand, expressed the truth of God’s presence among them. Patrick traveled for more than twenty years throughout Ireland, preaching and teaching the Gospel message of salvation through Jesus Christ. Patrick is much-loved throughout Ireland for his work in establishing schools and churches, and sharing the Good News of God’s grace and love with the Irish people. Many of the pagan Druids of the Irish countryside eventually banished their serpent symbolism to embrace the Cross of Christ through the teaching and preaching of Patrick. After many years of missionary work among the people of the land of his captivity, Patrick died on March 17, AD 461, but his legacy lives on in the legend of the shamrock and the faith of the Irish people. To read more about the life and ministry of St. Patrick, visit the following websites: www.irelandnow.com www.history.com/topics/st-patricks-day www.saint-patrick.com www.theholidayspot.com/patrick
“Hearing God’s Voice, Obeying God’s Call: The Story of St. Patrick” retold by Vintage Mama has been published by Gossamer Wings Publications. For more information please contact us at gossamerwingspublishing@hotmail.com