Today I went to Circus Maximus, what is now an open field used for jogging and picnics was once one of the main places that Christians were martyred in the early Church, even more so than at the Colosseum.
Circus Maximus is not to far away from me, and to be quite honest it is rather un spectacular at first glance because the field is only halfway covered in grass, the other half being covered in gravel, and it is surrounded by noisy streets. I was nearby when I decided to pray the rosary so I began walking around the path.
As I was praying I couldn't help but be struck by the contrast between what the field is used for today and what it was used for so many years ago.
Christians hundreds of years ago died for the faith on that field and even though much time has passed I still felt united to them. How? Through prayer. As I looked up to the sky I thought 'This is the same sky the martyrs saw as they cried out to the Lord in their last moments on earth; crying out for his will to be done and for the strength to accomplish it.' In this very place we were both having conversations with the Lord, and we were both there for the same reason, to give our lives to him.
Granted I am not dying for the faith here, I am studying for the Church that they died and loving every second of it. We both were/are following the Lord in the context of which he has called us. This experience of the grandness and universality of the faith, spanning beyond the confines of time, resonated deeply in my heart. God is so good.
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