The Chains That Forged a Saint: The Story of Saint Patrick

How Exile, Prayer, and the Power of Christ Conquered the Pagan Wilds

Saint Patrick and the Call of the West

The saints are never merely men of history; they are men of destiny, whose voices echo across the ages. Such is the case with Patrick of Britain, that exiled shepherd turned apostle to the wild, emerald isles of the West. His story is not merely one of adventure and hardship, nor even one of triumph over paganism—though it is certainly that. No, Patrick’s tale is a tale of Providence, a great working-out of the divine pattern, where even the cruelest twists of fate are but the dark threads woven into a tapestry of redemption.

Patrick was born into a Romanized Christian family in Britain around 387 AD. The precise location of his birthplace remains uncertain—whether it was in Wales or Scotland—but Patrick himself tells us that his family estate was near a place called Bannaventa Berniae. His father, Calpornius, was a deacon; his grandfather, Potius, a priest. Yet despite this heritage, Patrick confesses that he did not know the living God.

That knowledge came in exile. At sixteen, he was stolen away by Irish raiders, torn from the comforts of home, and cast into the pagan wilderness of the West. There, among the druids and warlords, he was sold into slavery. By all accounts, this should have been the end of him. The cruelty of men had sent him to a land that did not know Christ—a land where the old gods still held sway, where men lived and died in the grip of unseen forces, where blood was spilled to appease the spirits of stone and tree.

Yet, in this land of darkness, light dawned.

Patrick, bound in chains, found himself freer than he had ever been before. Stripped of worldly comforts, he discovered the power of prayer. He tells us in his Confessio that, as he tended his master’s sheep, his soul was set ablaze with love for God. He would rise before dawn, praying through frost and snow, through wind and rain, sometimes lifting his voice a hundred times a day. What had once been a borrowed faith became his own.

After six years of exile, he was given a vision in the night. A voice, clear and firm, spoke to him: "It is well that you fast; soon you will return to your own land. Your ship is ready." And so, he fled. With the boldness of one who has heard the voice of the Almighty, he left his captors behind and set his face toward home. The journey was perilous, but Patrick—now a man marked by Providence—found his way back to Britain.

One might expect that this was the end of the tale, a neat conclusion to an extraordinary ordeal. Patrick had suffered, he had overcome, and now he could live in peace. But God does not always let His servant’s rest.

Another dream came to Patrick—another calling, yet stranger than the first. In it, a man named Victoricus approached him with letters from Ireland. As he read one, he heard the voices of the Irish crying out:

"We beg you, boy, come and walk among us once more."

Can you imagine?

These were the very people who had torn him from his home, who had enslaved him, who had beaten and humiliated him. And now, they were calling him back—not to be their prisoner, but their apostle. Here was the final death of Patrick’s old self. He had not merely been saved from his captors; he was now being sent for them. He was to return, not with vengeance, but with the Gospel. The hand of God had moved, and Patrick was to be its instrument.

And so, he went.

Patrick returned to the land of his enslavement, but this time as a herald of the King. He preached Christ where once he had been a slave. He baptized the pagans in the very rivers where he had once labored under their yoke. He challenged the druidic strongholds, waging war against the dark powers that had bound the Irish in fear for generations. The old ways trembled before him, and at his coming, the serpent of paganism was driven into the sea.

The Lorica: Patrick’s Shield in the Darkness

It is said that Patrick and his disciples composed a great prayer, a shield against the darkness that surrounded them—a prayer known as The Lorica of Saint Patrick, or The Cry of the Deer. In a time when sorcery and blood-sacrifice still held sway, Patrick’s weapon was not the sword, but something far greater: the invocation of the Triune God. The Liber Hymnorum records a story of how, when an ambush was laid against Patrick by a hostile king, he and his monks prayed this very prayer. To their enemies, they appeared not as men, but as a herd of wild deer passing through the woods, unseen and untouched.

We in the modern world have forgotten what Patrick knew well—that unseen forces move in the world, that dark things lurk behind the veil, and that the weapons of our warfare are not of this world. Patrick’s Lorica is not mere poetry; it is a battle hymn. It is a declaration that Christ goes before us, behind us, within us, above us, and beneath us. It is a prayer that breaks enchantments, a cry of defiance against the powers of the air.

For years now, I have prayed it every Sunday morning before I preach. As a church, we recite it together on the Sundays nearest Saint Patrick’s Day and Trinity Sunday. It is a reminder that we stand not in our own strength, but in the strength of the One who conquered death.

You would do well to make it your own.

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I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.

I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.

I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.

I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and merciless power
that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul;
Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

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Patrick’s story is myth in the truest sense, the kind of tale that shapes the soul. It reminds us that no exile is wasted, that no suffering is in vain. The chains that bound Patrick were but the means by which he was made into a man fit to bind the strong man and plunder his house. His captivity was no accident—it was his commissioning.

And so, on this Saint Patrick’s Day, let us remember: the world is still full of dragons, the West still needs her called ones, and the Gospel has not lost its power.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day. And may we all arise today in the strength of Christ.