Died AD 203, in Carthage (modern Tunisia)
Perpetua, a young Christian in the African city of Carthage, was nearing the end of the time of training that every new believer received. She and several other new believers – Saturninus, Secundulus, Revocatus, and Felicitas – were preparing for baptism. Their little group of disciples typified the diversity found within the growing body of Christ. , born to a wealthy family, and the mother of an infant son. Revocatus and Felicitas, who was pregnant, were both slaves.
But the group’s Christian training was cut short when the Roman authorities of the province arrested them for refusing to worship the empire’s deities. Though the current emperor was more tolerant of Christians than many of his predecessors, there was still widespread local persecution. Perpetua and her new friends were imprisoned to await trial. She kept her baby with her. In solidarity, Saturus, another member of the group who had not been arrested with the others, turned himself in.
“Neither can I call myself anything else than what I am – a Christian.”
Soon after their arrest, . Knowing the danger to his daughter, he tried to convince her to turn away from her faith. She responded by pointing to some pottery in her cell. “Father, do you see this container lying here? Is it a little pitcher, or is it something else?”
“It’s a pitcher,” he replied.
Perpetua continued, “Can it be called by any name other than what it is?”
“No,” he said.
Perpetua replied, “Neither can I call myself anything else than what I am – a Christian.” Her father flew into a rage and attacked her physically. When he finally left, Perpetua gave thanks to God.
At this time, the prisoners were baptized in the prison and welcomed into the full community of the Christians. Perpetua’s baptism was a deep source of encouragement for her.
Soon after, however, prison officials transferred the group to a worse section of the dungeon. Fearing for her baby in the dark, unhealthy environment, Perpetua asked her mother and brother to take him. Fortunately, it was soon arranged for the prisoners to be moved to a better part of the prison, where Perpetua could once again nurse and care for her child.
Perpetua’s brother suggested that she ask God for a vision to discover the divine purpose of her captivity. Confident that she would receive one, she told him, “Tomorrow I will tell you.” an incredibly tall, narrow ladder made of gold and stretching to heaven. The ladder was beautiful except for one thing: all sorts of cruel weapons – swords, lances, hooks, and daggers – were attached to the sides of it, endangering reckless climbers. The weapons weren’t the only danger; below the ladder she saw a huge, crouching dragon waiting to consume those who would not make the climb.
In the vision, Saturus made the climb first. Reaching the top, he encouraged Perpetua to join him. The dragon lifted its head as she approached, but undeterred, she stepped on its head as the first stride upward. She climbed the ladder and came to the top, where she found herself in an immense garden. A white-haired shepherd sat in the middle, milking his sheep. Around him were gathered thousands of people in white robes. The shepherd looked at Perpetua and said, “You are welcome, daughter.” He offered her some cheese that he had made. She ate it, and the people looking on said, “Amen.”
, she still tasted the indescribable flavor of the food she had eaten. After sharing the vision with her brother, they agreed that it meant she would end her time of imprisonment as a martyr.
Nearly worn out with anxiety, but having regained some measure of composure, Perpetua’s father came again to visit her. “Have pity on your father,” he said, “if I am worthy for you to call me father. Don’t make me a subject of scorn. Think about your son too. He can’t live without you.” He kissed her hand, fell to the ground, and wept. Perpetua grieved too, but for a different reason. Out of her whole family, only he could not rejoice over her commitment to Christ. She was resolute. Again he left, taking her son with him.
The captives were brought to the town hall for public interrogation, and a crowd soon gathered. They were questioned one by one. When Perpetua’s turn came, her father stepped to the front of the crowd, holding her infant son. “Have pity on your baby!” he cried.
The procurator in charge commanded Perpetua to “offer sacrifice for the well-being of the emperors.”
“I will not,” Perpetua answered.
“” he asked.
“I am,” she replied.
“I suffer what I’m suffering now, but then there will be another in me, who will suffer for me, because I am about to suffer for Him.”
The procurator ordered Perpetua’s father to be beaten with rods, even though the elderly man had come to convince her to abandon Christianity. Perpetua watched, horrified, as the brutal command was carried out. Finally, the procurator condemned the prisoners to be thrown into an arena with wild beasts at the upcoming birthday celebration of the emperor’s son.