Of Martyrs Old and New

And darkness and light

As I write I’m attending an ecumenicial retreat at a St. Meinrad Archabbey in Indiana. During prayer this morning my eyes were continually drawn to the crucifix. I’ve seen, of course, many crucifixes, but this one is particularly striking. Christ’s head droops drastically to one side. His ribs protrude. His hands are wide open. Blood drips down his feet. Let there be no doubt: Christ has truly died. He has truly given his life as a ransom for many. Behold the lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.

Gazing upon this crucifix led my wandering thoughts to those two young missionaries martyred in Haiti last week. Their names were Davey and Natalie Lloyd. My heart hurts for their family. Davey and Natalie look like kids to me. I suppose twenty-three and twenty-one-year-olds aren’t really kids, but they’re close enough. Their faces have popped into my head at random times over the last few days, perhaps because these two were about the same age as my own children. Like so many raised up in the faith, they wanted to lead others to Christ in the work of mission. In the midst of their service to Christ, they were murdered. Alongside them was murdered Jude Montis, who was forty-seven years old. Montis was the Haitian director of the mission agency.* The darkness rages against the light.

Lord, have mercy. 

Christ, have mercy. 

Lord, have mercy. 

Facebook/Ben Baker

I gaze upon the figure of Christ on the cross and ponder the tragic inevitability of his death. There is no way that Jesus, the very embodiment of the righteousness of God, could escape the wrath of this unredeemed world. He knew this, and yet he emptied himself, “taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7-8). He suffered the cruelest of deaths so that we could escape eternal death. “Since, therefore, the children share flesh and blood, he himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Hebrews 2:14-15).

Many of those who have followed in his steps have suffered torture and death as well. The darkness hates the light. From Stephen to Polycarp to Perpetua and Felicitas to present day martyrs like Davey and Natalie, many have given their lives for this faith. We read of the throngs of martyrs in Revelation 7:

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.

They cried out in a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!” And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (7:9-17).

Let us in all cases honor Christian martyrs, but in no case romanticize martyrdom. Countless martyrs throughout history have died violent, humiliating, and painful deaths. They have suffered for the cause of Christ. Martyrdom is not something we seek out, but something we must face if it comes. When we pray the Lord’s prayer, we normally pray, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” I suggest a better reading is, “Do not lead us to the time of trial (or testing), but deliver us from the evil one.” Don’t lead us, O God, to that place in which we are faced with heavy temptation to abandon you. Deliver us from the accuser, that ancient serpent who makes war on the saints of God.

No, we don’t seek out martyrdom. But we do remember the multitudes who have died across history, and continue to die across the world today, for this precious faith. Remember, when we read our Scriptures, when we say the great creeds of the church, when we receive baptism and the Lord’s Supper, we can do so because countless faithful before us have persisted in the faith across the ages, even unto death. God forbid we should disregard the faith for which they shed their blood.

Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses, but he was wrong. Religion inspires people to acts of both great good and great evil. No, the opiate of the masses is not religion, but comfort. Comfort makes us feel as if we are self-sufficient. It numbs our sensitivity to the suffering of this world. It distracts our minds from the inevitability of our death. Comfort makes us feel we can settle for a watery, harmless ersatz Christianity that soothes our guilty consciences while costing us nothing. But real Christianity is costly. Bonhoeffer wrote in The Cost of Discipleship,

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

We honor the martyrs by giving our whole selves to Christ, honoring him as both our Lord and our savior. We follow him in obedience. We proclaim the faith handed on to us by the saints and martyrs across the centuries. We refuse the temptation to create counterfeit Christs that bear our image and likeness. We cling to Christ in life, praying that we will have the courage to do so in death.

Imagine that crucifix again. Jesus’ head is drooping. His blood is draining away. There is a whole world of divine mystery in that image. It is a mystery of divine love and compassion—and judgment. As I prayed in the chapel, I regarded that crucifix with some dis-ease. I felt like Jesus might raise up his head at any moment and look at me with eyes that were loving, but also searching, his gaze like a refiner’s fire. He would ask, What is the depth of your faith, David? Do you love me? What are you holding back? Too much, Jesus. I confess. I repent.

Where Christ builds his church, the devil builds a chapel. The Good News of Jesus will collide with the spiritual forces of wickedness and their human agents. The darkness wages war against the light with brutal ferocity. And yet we know, “The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5). That is not just a description of Christ’s earthly ministry. It is eschatology—a vision of what it will look like when God makes all things new. Darkness is abundant, and the darkness abhors the light, but at the end of the story, those whose garments are washed in the blood of the Lamb will abide with him forever. The light prevails. “The Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” There will be plenty of tears to wipe away.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

*The early reports I read were about the Lloyds, and in the original post I neglected to include Montis’s name. Thanks to Bob Coleman for alerting me to this oversight.