But I am wrong if I do not embrace these stories as a part of my Christian history, a history of which I am not only a part, but for which I am accountable. Furthermore, I dilute the meaning of the Blood of the Lamb if I tuck these stories on a shelf and let them grow dusty and forgotten. One of these is the story of Sts. Perpetua and Felicity, two heroic martyrs from the early third century.

The year was AD 203, to be precise, and the place was Carthage, a trading center situated on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea in what is modern-day Tunisia in northern Africa. At that time, the Roman Empire dominated much of the civilized world, including Carthage. Christian persecution was rampant, and to be found out as a Christian meant almost certain death—often death as a public spectacle, as Christians could be tossed to wild beasts while crowds looked on cheering.

Such was the fate of two young Christian mothers: Perpetua, a noblewoman, and Felicity, a young slave.

We hear their names at Mass when the priest prays Eucharistic Prayer I or II. But many of us do not know the gritty details of their arrest and martyrdom. Both women were apprehended for their refusal to “make the sacrifice” to a pagan god and renounce their faith in Christ. Remarkably, Perpetua kept a diary of her time in prison—one of the earliest and most invaluable records of its kind. It indicates not only that she was well educated, but that even though she was facing execution of the most brutal nature imaginable, she was of sound enough mind that she could record her final days with great detail and poise. Surely that in itself is evidence of the Holy Spirit at work in her.

She Would Crush His Head. During imprisonment, Perpetua was repeatedly visited by her family, and her father in particular, who begged her, with great weeping, to have pity on him, to remember her infant son, and to renounce her faith. She refused again and again, even when her father tore out his own hair. “I cannot be called by anything other than what I am, a Christian,” she insisted.

Perpetua’s child was still nursing and even joined her in prison on occasion so that she could care for him. Naturally, the boy was her greatest concern as she faced execution. “I had never been in such a dark hole,” she wrote. “I was tortured with worry for my baby there.”

But in a turn that is so common among the martyrs, Perpetua looked to the Lord for strength and courage. In response, God gave her a vision that filled her with enough peace and fortitude to place her child in the care of her family. She recounts it this way:

I saw a ladder of tremendous height made of bronze, reaching all the way to the heavens, but it was so narrow that only one person could climb up at a time. To the sides of the ladder were attached all sorts of metal weapons . . . so that if anyone tried to climb carelessly or without paying attention, he would be mangled.

Perhaps even more terrifying, she saw at the foot of the ladder an enormous dragon whom she knew to be the devil. He was crouched and ready to attack anyone who tried to climb it. But in her vision, Perpetua declared with certainty, “He will not harm me in the name of Christ Jesus.” And indeed, he wouldn’t. Quite the contrary, he would serve as her first step toward heaven.

“Slowly,” she continued, “as though he were afraid of me, the dragon stuck his head out from underneath the ladder. Then, using it as my first step, I trod on his head and went up.”

At the top she found a beautiful, immense garden and was met by a gray-haired shepherd and many thousands cloaked in white. The shepherd said to her, “I am glad you have come, my child,” and then he offered her sweet milk to drink.

Perpetua was granted a number of dreams and visions, all of which strengthened her resolve. These images made clear to her that she would not be fighting wild beasts but with the devil himself. Not only would she prevail victoriously, but God the Father would be near her to strengthen her and to welcome her to heaven with joy.

The Power of a Woman’s Witness. For her part, Felicity had been arrested along with Perpetua and the others. She was eight months pregnant at the time, and Roman law forbade the execution of a pregnant woman. This meant that Felicity might face martyrdom much later and without the consolation of dying alongside friends and companions in the Lord. She did not want to die in the company of criminals and strangers but alongside the faithful she knew and loved. She prayed fervently that she might deliver the child early. Her prayer was answered, and she gave birth to a baby girl whom her sister would raise as her own.

The days wore on, and life in prison was cruel; but both women remained steadfast in prayer and continually reminded anyone they could that they were filled with joy and feared nothing beyond the judgment of the Lord. In a kind of mock hearing, they were given a final chance to publicly deny Christ. But they refused, and their sentence was passed: they were “condemned to the beasts.”

Thus the spectacle began.

Living and Dying for Christ. Both women were stripped naked, tied down in nets, and brought into the amphitheater. These women were young, with Perpetua’s age recorded as only twenty-two. Felicity may have been even younger, and their youth must have been shocking to the crowd. In a moment of utter hypocrisy, even the audience, who had gathered for the sole purpose of cheering on the horror, were put off by these inconvenient details. So the two women were taken back and clothed.

While the men in their group were attacked by a variety of wild boars, bears, and leopards, a mad heifer had been reserved to attack Felicity and Perpetua as a further insult to them as women. Once clothed, they were brought back to the open arena. The beast was unleashed, and despite being trampled, the women were not killed. Instead, they were led before the crowd. The women offered each other the kiss of peace, and then the gladiators struck them down with swords. Perpetua was not immediately killed but cried out in pain as the sword struck her in the ribs. In a final act of extraordinary courage, she helped guide the gladiator’s sword to her own throat. Thus was the measure of this noblewoman’s resolve to live and die for Christ.

Strengthened by Their Faith. As it did in Perpetua and Felicity’s day, so today our life in Christ also increasingly demands martyrdoms both great and small. But we must not be afraid to speak out in the public arena about the injustices we see in our neighborhoods and nation and on behalf of our families. We can draw courage knowing that our Church’s foundation has been laid by men and women like Felicity and Perpetua. We can also be strengthened in the knowledge that Satan fears holiness. Like Perpetua, we need only declare our faith in Christ in order to render Satan ineffective—even to turn him into a step stool helping us to heaven!

“Sts. Perpetua and Felicity, pray for us, that we would be strengthened by your witness to face evil head on and to remember that God is on our side, that truth will prevail, and that Satan quakes in the presence of all that is holy.”

Elizabeth M. Kelly writes from Minnesota and is the author of A Place Called Golgotha, available from wau.org/books or on Amazon books.