Allow me to introduce myself. You may have heard of me. My name is Patrick. March 17 is St. Patrick's day. But before everybody celebrates another one, I decided to come back 1,500 years to set the record straight about who I am and what I've done.

You see, people say all kinds of strange things about me. They draw these pictures of me with a green hat and a red beard, short and putting out my fists or holding a mug of beer. As if I were a leprechaun. They think I carry around three or four leaf clovers. And then there's that legend that I got rid of all the snakes in Ireland. Well, how would you like your memory to forever be associated with slithering reptiles?

Of course, I do have my admirers. Some say I was one of the most powerful missionaries who ever lived. Well, I don't know about that. In fact, I'm not even an official saint; I was never canonized by the Holy Church. I'm just an ordinary guy who wasn't even sure he wanted to follow God. But God had mercy on me, and I did obey him.

Maybe you'll be surprised to learn that I'm not even Irish. I'm an Englishman. I grew up in Britain during the days of the glorious Roman Empire. I was a Roman citizen and proud of it.

My dad, Calpurnius, was a government official. He sat on the town council. And in the local assembly of Christians, he was a deacon. My grandfather, in fact was a priest. So I grew up in a Christian home, and my folks dragged me along to church. I heard the sacred writings there.

When I was about 16, I was captured and was taken to Ireland. There I was sold as a boy slave to a Celtic chieftain. When you're a slave and a foreigner, there's no one to talk to.

So I don't know when I first did this, but I began talking to God. "God", I said, "I really don't know you. But my parents do. My grandfather did. If you're God, get me out of here." I didn't hear anything. "Why would you let me be captured, dragged from my home and everyone I loved?" Then I remembered this verse my dad used to say: "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me" (Psalm 50:15).

God did deliver me and I was able to escape and return home. I had been gone about 8 years. It was great to be home again! But several years later I had a dream. God had burdened my heart for the people of Ireland. I didn't want to go back there. I told God that I would do anything for Him but go back there! But I knew that I had to go.

To pay for my voyage I took what I had inherited from my father—every bit of that land, which was everything I owned—and I up and sold it. On the day I sailed, in my family's eyes, I was a disgrace.

Once I arrived, I bought a chariot and began traveling in the north and west of Ireland, preaching wherever I could. Boy, did they need the light of Christ. Over time, I've paid the price of 15 slaves—out of my own pocket—just to buy protection from various chieftains, so I could pass through their territory to evangelize without getting mugged, captured, or killed.

In fact, I wrote a song, and every morning I'd say it or sing it as I'd get up. It was like a prayer for putting on God's strength and protection, so I called it my Breastplate.

Every danger I faced I thought was well worth it. Because it gave me the opportunity to tell Irish about Christ. I baptized a lot of people. I don't even know exactly how many, but it was In the thousands.

By God's grace I lived to be 77 years old. Every day I've wanted to go home to my people, to the Roman Britain I know and love. But I'm bound by the Holy Spirit. He made it clear to me that if I did that, I would be guilty of wrecking the task He wanted me to do. Christ commanded me to come and live among the Irish for the rest of my life.

I have gone and preached the gospel all the way to the Western Ocean, to places beyond which nobody lives. I planted churches, founded monasteries, ordained people to ministry.  I even started a school, because I had to help people read the sacred Scriptures.

Well, that's part of my story. While you're here, check out the other articles in this area to learn more about me, St. Patrick!

Written by Kevin A. Miller, editor of Leadership Journal

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