Constantine’s Journey to Christianity: A Lesson in Courage
I recently visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There I saw many godless marble heads—its hallways were plagued by them, no corner could escape them—disparate from any sense of higher purpose other than that of self-seeking glory. Yet, amid this sea of ancient stone, one figure stood apart from the rest, quietly and humbly surpassing the significance of the Greek heroes and foes that surrounded us, reaching heights they could only ever envy. In his life’s works, one could find the publishing of edicts to enact religious tolerance, resettling deserted territories by his predecessors, and strengthening their currency.1 You know, nothing too special.
If the clues I’ve thrown in here and there have not sufficed, let me tell it to you straight: the figure I encountered is none other than Constantine the Great—the Roman Emperor who granted Christ’s followers religious freedom by licensing their practices, permitting their worship, and tolerating a public display of their faith. Through this gesture, Christians were no longer deemed criminals for the mere belief in the monotheistic God of Abraham, in the power of I Am. No more were the days in which Christians were forced to hide and congregate in secret spaces, no more was the discussion of their convictions prohibited.
Although I tend to think twice before speaking the Lord’s truths in secular circles, a spiritual confidence I am currently developing, I am blessed enough to be able to do so in America without any major repercussions. It is an assumption we can afford, but others have had to lay their lives down in its pursuit. If we have the ability to proudly declare our faith without suffering any serious forms of persecution, why don’t we?
It is easy to be complacent in our walk, keep to ourselves, and silence our own voices. When I fear speaking up in the midst of unbelievers—which is quite often—I look to 1 Peter 3:15, where the apostle is adamant about “Always be[ing] prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” This is something the Lord has been convicting me of lately, and I know it’s a struggle shared by many. I think the key is to act “in gentleness and respect,” which does not mean to be passive nor tolerate dismissive talk on Christianity, but rather to listen, to emphasize and to respond in truth, understanding the root of their belief, and remembering it is not possible to change everyone’s mind. That is not the goal. It is to present them with the facts, and to let go. It is then up to them to decide whether they’d like to explore our view further or not. We might hope to plant a seed, but dreading the unsatisfactory results of a 15 minute conversation is not healthy. The apologist’s life is not to exert oneself until the other side is convicted. It is to defend one’s stance in the most lucid and accurate manner possible, and then to rest one’s case, leaving the following up to the Lord.
In fact, Constantine went many years in his reign without denouncing the massacre of his fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, not claiming—with certainty at least—the Abrahamic God’s truth until his last minute baptism, the same month that marked his death. I bring this up not to shame the emperor, but to emphasize that Constantine isn’t without fault; he, like us, struggled with publicizing his faith! If a figure as powerful, and revered as a saint by Eastern Orthodox Churches, was too frightened to defend Christianity, we mustn’t be too hard on ourselves. Beating ourselves up over our silence will not enact a sudden change in our coyness.
Now, Constantine was not always this timid and taciturn figure. He grew in boldness, cultivating the seed his mother planted in his childhood, and decreed the Edict of Milan in 313 CE, granting Christians “free and unlimited permission to practice their religion.”2 The emperor attempted to build a sense of inclusiveness in the empire by instituting Sunday as a holy day, bridging the divide between sun-god worshippers and Christians, and show them that they share commonalities.3 In this act, we see Constantine as a consensus builder, preaching a message of unity to the Roman citizens, where achieving peace within the empire was his main goal.
We, in the present day, should look to Constantine for guidance. Rather than attacking non-believers for their sin, pointing out the error in their ways, we must respond with empathy and find common ground. No one likes to be demonized and isolated (even though we might deserve it). There is a time and context in which harsher speech may be invoked, and it is at those points in which we turn to the Holy Spirit for discernment. Mistakes will happen along the way, there will always have been a “better” response, yet at the end of the day, we must remind ourselves that we have placed our lives in the Lord’s hands, and trusted in His precious gift of salvation. Just like us, the emperor wrestled with the idea of speaking up with “gentleness and respect,” yet by surrendering himself to the Lord’s guidance, he was able to also put his foot down against the marginalization of Christians in the empire and proclaim the edict that secured Christian liberation.
Even so, many historians still question whether this edict was a calculated move to instill social harmony or a true profession of Constantine’s love for Christianity. In no small feat, and after severe persecution, the Edict of Milan marked the beginning of a new era: an age of tolerance for all Christians in Rome. Albeit a little late, this became Constantine’s public allegiance to Christianity, making him the first Christian emperor.
Professing one’s faith openly and loudly is not as easy as it may seem. It requires boldness and wisdom. I’m sure you’ve struggled to express yourself on campus, whether that be as a cautionary defense of the God presented in Genesis during a Literature Humanities seminar or a discussion with a fellow student over dinner at JJ’s. Using your voice to spread the gospel—in any capacity—is something you should be proud of. To take that first step and bridge the gap between non-believers and Christians takes courage!
While Constantine’s actions set a precedent for religious tolerance, the path of sharing the Word need not always be marked by fervent declarations and unyielding boldness. Embracing the privilege that the Edict provides means appreciating the freedom it provides without fear, but it doesn’t signify that every believer must consistently stand with mic in hand. Just as Constantine’s journey to Christianity was marked by moments of hesitation and self-discovery, we too can acknowledge that our faith is deeply personal and may sometimes lead us to quieter, more contemplative expressions. It is within our rights to embrace this privilege with a spirit of gratitude, recognizing that sharing the Word can take various forms, and sometimes, it is in the subtleties that our faith shines most brightly.
As I stood beside his sculpture, I was enraptured. Not by Constantine himself, but by the work the Lord accomplished through him. In hindsight, it is only as a result of the Lord’s perfect plan, birthing the emperor to a wealthy elite family and convincing him of His promise, that we can now appreciate a world where Christianity—at least in most regions—is tolerated. This is a privilege that tends to go unnoticed. So, let’s take advantage of the great power that comes with this great responsibility4 and share the Word!
1 Wasson, D. L. (2013). Constantine I. https://www.worldhistory.org/Constantine_I/
2 Betten, F. S. (1922). The Milan Decree of A. D. 313: Translation and Comment. The Catholic Historical Review, 8(2), 191–197. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25011854
3 Pharr, C. (1939). CONSTANTINE AND THE CHRISTIANS. The Classical Outlook, 16(6), 57–58. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44005884
4 This is a Spiderman reference.
Daniela Doyle is a freshman in Columbia College hoping to study Economics and History. Her favorite spot to catch up with friends after a long day is Law Bridge.