Tertullian, Antidote for the Scorpion's Sting 6

Suppose God had offered us martyrdoms under the label of a contest, matches in which we would prove ourselves against an adversary, so that the very one from whom a person is gladly freed he might now steadily conquer; even then God's generosity would outweigh his severity. He wanted the human being ripped from the devil's jaws by faith to become the devil's conqueror by virtue, so that he would not merely escape but actually defeat the enemy. The One who loved us and called us to salvation also chose to invite us to glory, that we might rejoice in our liberation and exult in our crowning. Those brutal games—contentious, superstitious rites of the Greeks, of religions, of pleasures—which the world celebrates with such enthusiasm, even Africa has abandoned. Yet individual cities still harass Carthage with congratulations because she was awarded the Pythian games after the stadium's heyday had passed. From ancient times it was deemed supremely worthwhile to commit the arts to the stadium, to display the excellence of bodies and voices, with a prize as the measure, a spectacle as the judge, and pleasure as the verdict. In these contests there are no battles, yet wounds abound: blows shatter, kicks hammer, fists tear, whips lacerate. Still, no one ever reproaches the games' overseer, even though men decry violence and lawsuits for injury arise outside the arena; they only calculate how many bruises, how much blood, how many welts can be traded for crowns, glory, dowries, public privileges, civic stipends, images, statues, and the kind of eternal fame and resurrection of memory the world can supply. The boxer himself does not complain of pain, because he chooses it; the crown presses down his wounds, the palm obscures his blood; victory swells more than injury. Will you call that man injured whom you see rejoicing? Nor will the loser himself reproach the judge for his fall. Would God be ashamed to bring his arts and disciplines into the open, into this world's arena, into a spectacle for men and angels and all powers—to test flesh and soul for constancy and endurance, to award the palm to one, honor to another, citizenship to another, stipends to another, and also to reject some and dismiss the chastised in disgrace? You are effectively dictating to God the times, manners, and places in which he may judge his own household, as if a judge ought not to prejudge. What if God had not exposed faith to martyrdom under the name of a contest, but for its own advance? Would it not need some store of hope to draw its zeal and anchor its vow, the means by which it strives to ascend, since even earthly offices are ranked in grades? How else are there many dwellings with the Father, if not according to the variety of merits? How does one star differ from another in glory, if not by the diversity of its rays? (1 Corinthians 15:41). Moreover, if faith required some extension of sublimity and clarity, that benefit had to be one purchased by great labor, torture, torment, death. But consider the compensation: when flesh and soul are at stake—the two things dearer to a human being than anything else; one is the hand of God, the other the breath of God—these very things are ventured in the advance that belongs to them; these very things are spent, which bring gain; the same prices that are also rewards. God foresaw these frailties of the human condition, the adversary's snares, the deceptions of things, the world's nets, and that even after baptism faith would be endangered, that most would perish again after salvation—those who have worn out their wedding garment, who have not prepared oil for their lamps, who must be sought over mountains and hills and carried back on shoulders (Matthew 22:11-13; 25:1-13; Luke 15:4-5). Therefore he provided second comforts, final defenses, the struggle of martyrdom, and the baptism of blood, thereafter secure. Of its blessedness David says: "Blessed are those whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered. Blessed is the one whose sin the Lord does not count against them" (Psalm 32:1-2). For martyrs, indeed, nothing can be imputed, since life itself is laid down in that baptism. Thus love covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8)—the love of the one who loves God with all his strength, with which he wrestles in martyrdom, with his whole soul, which he lays down for God; the martyr is forged. Will you pronounce these remedies, counsels, judgments, and even spectacles to be the cruelty of God? Does God crave human blood? And yet I dare say: if man is the kingdom of God, if man is certain salvation, if man is also a second regeneration, no compensation is envied when the rationale of either grace or injury is shared.