In 2024, Valentine’s Day falls on the same day as Ash Wednesday—the first day of Lent, the solemn season of preparation for Easter. As far as I know, Hallmark hasn’t released any cards that say, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). Yet these words, traditionally said on Ash Wednesday, make a fitting verse for the celebration of a martyr. On this first day of Lent, Saint Valentine the Martyr teaches us that true love dies—and yet, outlasts death.
Saint Valentine the Martyr
“Valentine’s Day” is better called Saint Valentine’s Day, or the Feast of Saint Valentine. Though Valentine has suffered the second death of commercialization, his holy day stands as the church’s memorial to his martyrdom in the third century. It is believed that Saint Valentine ministered to persecuted Christians before being arrested by the Romans, beaten with clubs, and beheaded for his faith on February 14, AD 270.
It is believed that Saint Valentine ministered to persecuted Christians before being arrested by the Romans, beaten with clubs, and beheaded for his faith on February 14, AD 270.
Not much else is known about Valentine, though his life is surrounded by charming legends. Some say he oversaw secret marriages that were forbidden by Rome to control the population of Christians. Others claim that while under arrest, Valentine healed the eyesight of a blind girl, leading to the conversion of her father and his entire household. Even less likely is that when Valentine was awaiting execution, he wrote a letter to the girl whom he had healed, signed, “From your Valentine.”
The Feast of St. Valentine the Martyr likely took on romantic significance because of a fourteenth-century love poem by Geoffrey Chaucer. In “The Parliament of Fowls,” a poem celebrating the engagement of King Richard II, Chaucer alluded to Saint Valentine’s Day as a time of the year when birds choose their mates:
For this was on Saint Valentine’s day,
When every fowl comes there his mate to take,
Of every species that men know, I say,
And then so huge a crowd did they make,
That earth and sea, and tree, and every lake
Was so full, that there was scarcely space
For me to stand, so full was all the place.
The Roman Catholic Church claims to have the skull of St. Valentine, which is covered in flowers and kept at a church in Rome, Italy. It is a fitting symbol of both Ash Wednesday and Saint Valentine’s Day.
True Love Dies
Most people cling to life at any cost. Jesus said, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). By death, God in Christ showed his love for us.
True love is signed with blood. It takes up its cross daily, dying to sin and self-interest. True love is put to the test in the daily grind when I am faced with the choice between what I want and what is good for others. It is easy to admire the great Christian martyrs, but it is far harder to follow their example by embracing martyrdom as a way of life.
True love is put to the test in the daily grind when I am faced with the choice between what I want and what is good for others.
Even marriage is a kind of martyrdom. Husbands are commanded to love their wives “as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph. 5:25), and Christ “gave himself up” by dying. Dying for one’s wife does not mean, “If an intruder comes, I’ll get my shotgun and go out in a blaze of glory.” Many men would rather do that than wash the dishes. Dying means, “I’ll seek my wife’s best interests, even above my own—even when it costs me.” It’s about foot-washing in the daily grind. It means death to self-centeredness. And as a friend once said, “There’s nothing like marriage to show you how selfish you are.”
Ministry, too, is a kind of martyrdom. Tertullian famously said, “The blood of Christians is seed.” Or, as it’s commonly quoted, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.” The early church did not grow by grasping at political power or taking up Caesar’s sword. It grew by dying. Christian ministry should not be viewed as a path to self-fulfillment but as an opportunity to die for the good of others. As Paul said, “I die daily” (1 Cor. 15:31). Real ministry is self-sacrificial.
Perhaps politics, too, should be viewed through the lens of martyrdom. When the early Christians were charged to stop preaching, they weren’t alarmed. They didn’t lose their heads (at least their figurative ones). They simply continued to proclaim that Jesus is the true and only Lord of all (Acts 5:4). Paul and Silas embraced their prison sentence and converted the Philippian jailer by singing hymns and praising God at midnight. Polycarp invited his Roman captors to dine at his table before they took him to be burned. These holy men took Jesus’s words seriously: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake” (Mt. 5:10). They embraced martyrdom as an opportunity to show God’s heavenly love. As Christianity is losing its cultural dominance in the West, what does the world see today? A church that embraces the spirit of martyrdom? Or a church that is desperately grasping for political power, trying to hang on to the status quo?
True Love Outlasts Death
Life is short, like “a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (Jas. 4:14). The world tries to delay death for as long as possible. But the Christian knows that only by dying can we truly live. True love dies and outlasts death. Ashes pave the path to Resurrection Sunday.
True love—love that dies—rises from the ashes and lives forever.
On this first day of Lent, as the church issues a call to renewed repentance, remember the words of Jesus: “whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Mt. 10:39). Though prophecies will pass away and tongues will cease, “Love never ends” (1 Cor. 15:8). True love—love that dies—rises from the ashes and lives forever.
