Standing on Holy Ground

This summer I got to perform a wedding for dear friends in Rome, Italy. The couple was beautiful. The setting at San Saba church and at the reception on the old Appian way made the wedding unforgettable. The cab ride back to the city also etched itself into my memory. 

As a part of being in Rome, Annette and I walked through the Colosseum and the palace grounds of the Roman emperors. While the buildings were magnificent, I kept hearing the voices of the Christians who had lived and died in those places. Tacitus says Nero lit his gardens with the burning bodies of Christians. He entertained his guests by having Christians sewn into the skins of animals and letting the dogs tear and devour them. The Colosseum floor often ran red with the blood of multitudes of Christian men and women. 

Those ancient, faithful ones would not renounce their faith in the face of sure and tortured death. They affirmed the reality of their faith rather than succumb to their fear in the critical moments of their trials. In Colosseum a cross stands victorious in the ruins. The empire is gone. The Colosseum is in ruins. The cross and resurrection still stand. Those who died, live. 

It was good to stand on that holy ground. I could hear their voices. I could hear another voice, my own, asking, "Eddie, what would you have done?"