Augustine provides a model for how Christians ought to think of all of world history in explicitly Christian and biblical categories. As Christians raise children and attempt to think about the world we live in on God’s terms—and not ours—Augustine offers a model for making sense of the world in explicitly biblical categories. That is, for Augustine, world history simply is the history of the two cities. Instead of Christians taking for granted the way the secular academy (or the secular worldview more generally) makes sense of the world, Christians would be wise to follow Augustine by attempting to make sense of all of reality in explicitly biblical categories.

It is a common trope for Christians to look back to the early centuries of the Christian church, and make comparisons between those early centuries and our current situation as Christians in the twenty-first century. But just because this is a common move does not mean it is illegitimate or unhelpful. It is wise and good to look to the past for help in living faithful lives in the present. Indeed, remembering the past simply is one key component of living biblically faithful lives. Thus, at the end of book of Malachi, when the Old Testament era is coming to an end, when the need of a new covenant has become virtually depressingly clear, one of the Lord’s final prophetic words to the people of God is “remember the law of my servant Moses” (Mal. 4:4). In short, living biblically faithful lives includes the importance of looking to the past, and remembering what God has done and said. That is why I consider in this article the circumstances surrounding Augustine’s famous reflection on the city of God and how it relates to the kingdom of God.

The Fall of the City of Rome

Augustine (A.D. 354–430) had at one time lived in Rome, one of the most important cities–perhaps the most important city–of his era. But when Alaric and the Visigoths invaded Rome in A.D. 410, Augustine was residing in Hippo, in north Africa, where he would live out his days. Augustine was at that point (in Hippo) a busy bishop, engaging in the typical challenges of pastoring people, and engaging in multiple administrative tasks. Alaric and the Visigoths had successfully invaded Rome, entered the city, and inflicted significant damage. The city was not decimated, but it was now evident that Rome was not impenetrable. But to grasp the significance of this event for Augustine and his era, it is helpful to take a couple of steps back.

Some 100 years prior to Alaric’s sack of Rome, it had been a quite different political and cultural era. Emperor Diocletian reigned from A.D. 284–305 (he will reign in the eastern empire starting in 286 having appointed Maximian as co-emperor to rule the western half of the empire). Diocletian had engaged in some of the most severe Christian persecutions of any emperor (starting in 303). In a startling development, Constantine will become emperor in 306, and will reign until 337. Constantine’s Edict of Milan in 313 gave Christianity full legal status. However, it was Theodosius I in 380 who issued the edict, Cunctos populos, which reads: “It is our will that all peoples ruled by our government shall practice that religion.” In short, while Constantine granted Christianity full legal status, it is Theodosius I who establishes Christianity as the official religion of the empire—thirty years before Rome fell.

The New “Christian Times”?

Augustine himself seems to have been moved and excited by what seemed to be happening in history. The empire had gone on from a policy from bloody and intense Christian persecution to one where the Christian faith was prospering, and had even been given preferred legal status. In a sermon in 404 Augustine could write:

Kings, lately, are coming to Rome. It’s terrific, brothers and sisters, how it was all fulfilled. When it was being uttered, when it was being written, none of these things were happening. It’s marvelous. Take note of it and see, rejoice.[1]

Augustine was thrilled at what he took to be the fulfillment of Scripture. He goes on to write:

Let them occasionally at least be curious about the divine scriptures, let them find there so many things foretold which they can now see happening.[2]

He proceeds:

They’re astonished, you see, at the way the human race is converging on the name of the crucified and streaming together, from kings to ragamuffins. No age passed over, no manner of life, no school of thought. It’s not the case, you see, that the unlearned have believed and the learned haven’t, or that the low-born have believed and the high-born haven’t, or that women have believed and men haven’t, or that children have believed and old people haven’t, or that slaves have believed and free persons haven’t.

Indeed:

Every age has been called to salvation, every age has already come, every degree, every human level of wealth and property. It’s high time for all and sundry to be inside. Now just a few have remained outside, and they still go on arguing; if only they would wake up some time or other, at least at the din the world is making! The whole world is shouting at them.

In short, it seemed that at the very beginning of the fifth century Augustine and the Christians were witnessing a significant fulfillment of prophecy, and the victory of Christianity in the world. These were exciting times, perhaps even the “Christian times” (Christiana tempora), where prophecy was being fulfilled in recognizable and tangible ways. Robert Markus writes:

Most Christians [around this time—c. A.D. 404] shared the euphoria expressed in Augustine’s sermon. Bishops like Ambrose of Milan thought they could discern the signs of the times in the flow of events; they saw the new order of Christianity superseding the ancient Roman traditions, the mos maiorum [literally or woodenly: “the way of the greater ones”=”the way of the ancestors”].[3]

So, things had changed significantly in the course of 100 years or so—from the persecutions of Diocletian starting in 303, to a kind of enthusiasm100 years later, when Scripture seemed to be being fulfilled, and kings were bowing to the Lord Jesus.

But then Rome was successfully invaded in A.D. 410. The pagans had already been mocking Christians for the Christian’s notion of the Christiania tempora—the “Christian times.” Were such invasions something Romans should expect in such ostensibly wonderful “Christian times”?

Enter The City of God

The pagans indeed blamed the Christians for fall of Rome. These pagan criticisms might be summarized a couple of ways. First, the pagans argued, the Christian faith emphasized the importance of a “higher and nobler country” to which Christians had allegiance. Surely, if that were the case, Christians could not be reliable and faithful citizens in this realm.

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