When the Crowd Pulls You Back In
St. Augustine, one of the most important Christian thinkers of all time, didn’t start off as a saint. Born in North Africa in the 4th century AD, he spent years chasing pleasure, status, and meaning. His Confessions is a brutally honest spiritual autobiography, written after his conversion, that traces how God pulled him—slowly and often painfully—out of darkness.
In one powerful moment, Augustine tells the story of his friend Alypius. A brilliant, promising young man, Alypius admired virtue but was swept away by the brutal spectacle of the gladiator games. This is the story of how he fell—and how God brought him back.
Listen to This Short Story of Augustine’s Friend Alypius Tempted to Fall Back into Sin
(Mind you, this is in the 4th century AD)
He had not abandoned the worldly path his parents had set him upon, and he had gone ahead of me to Rome to study law. There, he was swept away with an astonishing passion for the gladiatorial games—something he had once despised.
One day, as he was walking, he happened to meet some friends and fellow students returning from dinner. With playful force, they dragged him, despite his protests, into the amphitheater on a day of these cruel and deadly games.
His Determined Resistance
He resisted, saying, “Even if you drag my body there and place me in the arena, can you force my mind and eyes to be drawn to these spectacles? I will be present in body but absent in soul, and in this way, I will triumph over both you and the games.”
Yet they continued to pull him along, eager to see if he could truly resist. When they arrived and found seats as best they could, the entire crowd erupted in frenzied excitement over the savage spectacle. Determined, he shut his eyes, refusing to let his mind be drawn into the brutality. But he had not closed his ears.
The Power of the Crowd
As soon as one of the fighters fell, a great roar erupted from the crowd. The deafening sound shook him, stirring his curiosity. Though he believed himself strong enough to resist, he opened his eyes, intending to look with scorn and remain unmoved. But in that very moment, a deeper wound was struck in his soul than the one inflicted on the gladiator’s body.
He fell—not onto the sands of the arena, but into the madness of the crowd. The cry of the spectators had entered through his ears and unlocked his eyes, making way for the destruction of his soul. He had thought himself bold, but his strength was an illusion. True strength would have come from dependence on You, O Lord.
The Descent into Bloodlust
The moment he saw the blood, something savage awoke within him. He did not look away but became fixated, drinking in the madness without realizing it. He found himself delighting in the violence, intoxicated by the brutal spectacle.
He was no longer the same man who had entered the amphitheater. Now, he was one with the crowd. He looked, he cheered, he was inflamed with passion. He left the games carrying within him the very frenzy that had first drawn him in.
From Spectator to Advocate
Not only did he return to the games with those who had enticed him—he now went before them, even persuading others to join him. The very resistance he had once displayed was now forgotten, consumed by his obsession.
And yet, O Lord, You did not leave him in this darkness.
Rescued by God’s Mercy
From all this, You rescued him. With Your mighty and merciful hand, You pulled him from the grip of destruction. But it was not immediate. Only after much time did he learn not to trust in himself, but in You alone.
In Your wisdom, You allowed him to see his own weakness so that he would finally turn away from the desires of the world and seek the strength that comes only from You.
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My Response
This part of Augustine’s Confessions really caught me off guard. I’ve read it before, but I didn’t remember the story of Alypius hitting this hard. Maybe because now, it feels personal.
Augustine talks about how Alypius got caught up in the madness of the games—something wild, intense, and addictive. It reminds me of the life I used to live, running with a rough crowd. And when I say rough, I mean it. We laughed together, got into trouble together, and I loved those guys deeply. The camaraderie was real. But God kept trying to pull me out—many, many times—and for years, I couldn’t break free. Then finally, when I least expected it, He did it. It was nothing short of a miracle.
A Temptation Revisited
Not long after, I went to a friend’s birthday party. I guess I was still in that in-between space—leaving but not yet fully gone. And that party… let’s just say it was a spectacle. Nothing like the gladiator games, but close enough in spirit. Only guys, and the entertainment was exactly what you’d imagine. But I couldn’t bring myself to watch. I kept my head back and my eyes closed the whole time, only peeking for brief moments to see when it was over. My friends thought I was being weird. And maybe I was. But I knew what was happening was sin, and I knew I was too weak to handle it if I didn’t look away.
The Messiness of Leaving Sin Behind
Reading this section helped me realize something I hadn’t seen before: the pull away from sin is often messy. You don’t wake up perfect or completely detached. Sometimes your body is still in the room, but your heart is trying to walk out. And sometimes God uses small, unexpected moments—like a comment you weren’t even meant to hear, or a decision to look away—to break you free.
For Anyone Still in That Space
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re in that in-between place, still surrounded by the old life, still tempted—don’t give up. God sees it. He’s working. Even in the mess.
