Tertullian · a new plain-English translation from the original language
You asked me recently, brother Fabius, whether one ought to flee in persecution or not, on account of some report that was being announced. On that occasion I made some remarks suited to the place and the moment, and — given the pressing insistence of certain people — I carried the subject off with me only half-treated, intending now to render it more fully in writing, since your inquiry had commended it to me and the condition of the times had by its very name already laid it on me as a duty. For the more frequent persecutions loom, the more this examination must be undertaken, as to how faith ought to receive them. And the examination must be undertaken particularly by you people, who — if perhaps by not receiving the Paraclete, the guide into all truth, you are still to this day struggling with other questions besides. So I have given your inquiry an order too, observing that it is necessary first to settle the status of persecution itself — whether it comes from God or from the devil — so that its outcome may the more easily be established; for the inspection of any matter is clearer once its author is known.
It is enough, indeed, to lay down as a rule that nothing happens without God's will; but we shall not therefore straightaway grant this position free rein over all other questions, lest we be dragged away from the point now before us, if someone should answer: "Then evil too is from God, and sin too is from God — there is nothing left in the devil, nothing even in ourselves." We are inquiring now about persecution; concerning it, for the moment, let me say that nothing happens without God's will, having regard first of all to the fact that it is worthy of God and, so to speak, necessary — necessary, that is, for the proving or the disproving of his servants. For what is the outcome of persecution, what other effect does it have, than the proving and disproving of faith, by which the Lord in every case puts his own to the test? Under this name persecution is a judgment, through which a person is judged either approved or rejected; and judgment belongs to God alone. This is that winnowing-fan which even now cleanses the Lord's threshing-floor — that is, the church — tossing the confused heap of the faithful and separating the wheat of the martyrs from the chaff of the deniers; this too is that ladder which Jacob dreams of, showing to some an ascent to the heights, to others a descent to the depths. If persecution can also be understood as a contest, by whom is the fight proclaimed except by the one who sets forth the crown and the prizes? You read the proclamation of this contest in the Apocalypse — with what prizes it invites to victory, and above all those who have truly conquered by conquering in persecution, having wrestled not really against flesh and blood but against the spiritual forces of wickedness; so you will recognize that the judging of the contest belongs to the very one who presides over the games, the one who invites to the prize. The whole business carried on in persecution is God's glory — the glory of the one who proves and disproves, who lifts up and casts down; and whatever pertains to God's glory will surely come about by his will. But when is God believed in more, if not when he is feared more — and when is that, if not in time of persecution? The church stands in suspense: then faith too is on campaign, more anxious and more disciplined in fastings and vigils and prayers and humility, in mutual diligence and mutual love, in holiness and sobriety; for nothing then has leisure for anything but fear and hope. And by this very fact it is shown to us that what makes God's servants better cannot be reckoned to the devil's account.
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