In order that all might fulfill this plainly necessary office, the Savior came into this world and drew all to himself by an immense charity. For, with Salvian as authority1, according to the testimony of the Apostle2, Christ therefore,
by dying for us, willed to commend his charity to all—
—so that by the example of so great a return of his own piety he might draw us to rendering piety. And just as they tell of those wondrous gems of nature which, when brought nearer to iron, suspend steel, although most hard, by an attraction that seems to breathe; so also he, that is, the supreme and most illustrious gem of the heavenly kingdoms, willed this: that when, although we were most hard, he descended from heaven and joined himself more closely to us, he might move us toward his affection as though by the hands of his love; so that, acknowledging his gifts and benefits, we might understand what it was fitting for us to do for so good a Lord, when he had done such things for evil servants; and that this might be fulfilled which the Apostle says3, that we should be mortified by his charity all the day, and that neither tribulation, nor distress, nor persecution, nor famine, nor nakedness, nor the sword could separate us from the charity of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
But if there are some of so hardened a mind that they are not softened even by the fire of so great a charity, these, Salvian writes, certainly complain without merit that they experience God as more severe than they would wish. “Why do we complain,” he cries4,
that God acts harshly with us? We act much more harshly with God. For we exasperate him by our impurities and draw him, unwilling, to punish us. And although the mind and majesty of God are of such a nature that he is moved by no passion of anger, nevertheless the exasperation of sins in us is so great that through us he is compelled to be angry. We offer violence, so to speak, to his piety, and in a certain manner lay hands upon his mercy. And although it belongs to his benignity that he wills continually to spare us, he is compelled by our evils to avenge the crimes which we commit. And just as those who besiege the most fortified cities or endeavor to capture and overthrow the strongest citadels of cities undoubtedly assail them with every kind both of missiles and machines, so we fight to conquer the mercy of God by every crime of monstrous sins, as though by every kind of missile; and we judge God injurious to us, when we ourselves are most injurious to God… Why—
—therefore do we complain of the bitterness of penalties? Each one of us punishes himself.
Nevertheless God is gentle and sweet to such an extent, and the blood of Christ poured out for us avails with him to such an extent, that as long as we live the present life, whether he takes somewhat more bitter notice of us or treats us more mildly and favorably, he always both desires and seeks our salvation. “So great,” says5 Salvian,
is the mercy of God that, although he wills us to suffer some things for our offenses, he nevertheless does not will us to endure them all; because he chastises the evil, he does not return evils, and he prefers us to acknowledge our sins rather than to sustain them. Namely, so that by pious and salutary scourges he may show us what things we deserve to bear, according to that saying of the blessed Apostle by which6 he says: “Knowest thou not that the goodness of God leads thee to repentance? But according to thy hardness and impenitent heart thou treasurest up wrath for thyself on the day of wrath.” And truly we act as the Apostle says. For God calls us to repentance, but we treasure up wrath. God invites us to pardon, but we daily heap up offense. We offer violence to God by our iniquities; we ourselves arm the wrath of divinity against ourselves. We compel an unwilling God to avenge the enormities of our crimes. We are close to not permitting him to spare. For since no sign of injustice can ever fall upon or appear in him, we so act that, if he does not avenge the enormities of our crimes, he may seem to be unjust.