So, here’s your life.

You’re born into a good family. You’re a Roman citizen, back in the fifth century Britain. You wear a tunic. You’re a nice-looking guy. At least your mom thinks so.

You’re 16. One day, you’re hanging out, shooting the bull with friends, when a horde of thugs comes through your village, setting fire to houses, pillaging, and doing unspeakable things to townswomen.

The bad guys kidnap you. They put you on a boat. You’re below deck, in chains, bleeding, and you’re crying. You’re junior-in-high-school age, not old enough to shave, you’ve probably never even been kissed. And, boom, now you’re a slave.

These evil men take you to their country, which the Romans call “Hibernia.” Although the locals call it “Éire Land.” The place is cloudy, very green, and the locals are in serious need of a qualified dental care professional.

You are sold on the auction block, naked, for a low price. Your master makes you a shepherd.

For years, you are homeless. You sleep with animals. You eat with animals. You are always cold. You cry yourself to sleep each night.

It is here that you find God.

Then, when you’re 22, as your sheep are grazing near the seaside, you see some sailors. They speak a weird language. They seem like good guys so you beg them to take you home. Turns out, they aren’t good guys. THEY make you THEIR slave.

Anyway, somehow you escape. Years later, you finally make it back home. So now it’s time to rest. Relax. Maybe start a family of your own. But you just can’t.

How do you lead a normal life now? You’re scarred, battered, beaten, abused; you just can’t just go home and cut the grass.

Instead, you become a priest. And once you’re a legit priest, where do you beg your bishop to send you?

That place. You ask to go back to the country where you were a slave. Namely, because you had a dream. And now you want to introduce your abusers to God.

So, there you are. On a boat bound for Ireland again. You’re leaning over the side of the ship, probably in your early 30s, and you have no idea what lies ahead of you.

You have no idea that you will spend the rest of your life wandering this country on foot, teaching people what love is. You have no idea that you will be imprisoned, beaten, and nearly killed time and again.

All you know is that you have come into contact with The Divine, and you want to share it.

And you do share. You help so many. You live with local tribes. You become one of them. You see miracles take place. Thousands of miracles. The hungry are fed. The dead are raised.

And, ironically, although you are never canonized by the Catholic church, the people you loved make you a saint. They even give you a holiday involving beer.

But it is not your holiday that history will remember. It is your love. Your humble, childlike love for those who abused you. Here are a few of the simple words you wrote.

“The Lord is greater than all: I have said enough.”

And so, I think, have I.