Putting the armor on wrong

The text for my blog post today is Ephesians 6:10-18, commonly called ‘The Full Armor of God.’ If you weren’t raised in church, understand that this is a text taught most often to children. Sunday School teachers would frequently pull out that flannel-board diorama set which had the little Roman soldier in his undies, and we would put on his breast-plate of righteousness, his sandals of the gospel, his shield of faith, helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit, and then, finally, our teacher might explain that the belt of truth holds it all together as we place that final felt piece on our completed soldier.

Later on in life, we’d often sit under preachers who would wield those weapons to devastating effect, calling us to take up arms against the forces of hell, which--coincidentally--always seemed to look like politicians or rock stars.

But we get the passage wrong. Like, all wrong. Let’s read it backward first, and try to understand what the passage is really saying to us. Verse 18: “Pray at all times in the Spirit with every prayer and request, and stay alert with all perseverance and intercession for all the saints.” This is key to understanding the passage, because this is the only physical action given by its author, the apostle Paul. This is the application of all of that armor: to wage war in the Spirit through watchful prayer.

Now let’s reverse, and come to the first verses in the passage, verses 10-12, and work forward with the passage’s conclusion in mind.

“Finally, be strengthened by the Lord and by his vast strength. Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this darkness, against evil, spiritual forces in the heavens” (Ephesians 6:10-12 CSB).

Too often, I hear preachers speak of our enemies as being possessed by devils, seized by spiritual powers working in this material realm. I heard it just last week in a message by Landon Schott of Mercy Culture, who used this passage and said something like, “Understand that when I am talking about these politicians, I’m not waging a political war against them, I’m not even talking to them, I’m talking to the devil that’s using them!” Something like that. His premise was, when we wage war, we’re waging a spiritual war against an unseen enemy, and those poor men and women we’re directing such warfare at (in Schott’s case, it’s left-wing politicians, “woke” professors, or so-called social justice warriors), well, they’re merely caught in the cross-hairs. “I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to the demon that is using you.” 

That’s science fiction with no basis in Scripture. And it’s really, really harmful.

Read verses 10-12 in light of verse 18. We are told to pray, and to do so in the Spirit (a topic for another day), and to do so with sober-mindedness, staying alert. Firstly, Paul recognizes that this spiritual war has no analog in our material world. Prayer is an act of faith, because prayer has its primary effect in a transcendent, invisible world. That’s why ‘thoughts and prayers’ are so offensive to the world when we say we’re sending them to the victims of some trauma or disaster. To those who have no experience with prayer, who, to use Jesus’ phrase, don’t ‘have eyes to see,’ the effect is completely invisible. “What are your prayers to me?” they say. “We need aid. Food. Clothing. Shelter. Clean water. Medical attention.”

Don’t get me wrong, here. Prayer absolutely is effective. I’m not saying prayer is not effective. I’m saying that the effect of prayer is firstly unseen. Prayer affects the heart of the pray-er, it affects the heart of God, it lends spiritual strength to physical efforts, and it requires a kind of watchfulness or sober-mindedness which opens the eyes of our hearts (called our ‘Third Eye’ by other religions) to the reality of an unseen realm. But we aren’t opening the Third Eye by taking some consciousness-altering drug: Prayer is always accompanied by this diligent watchman’s sobriety, as Jesus called us to “watch and pray,” (Matthew 26).

And all that is invisible to the watching world.

No, the world and its politicians are just that. It’s just the world. There are some good men and some bad men, some men helping other men and some men taking advantage, and none of those men have devils inside or behind them. They’re just dudes. When pastor Landon Schott is criticizing a politician whose views he disagrees with, he’s not speaking spiritually to a spiritual enemy, he’s speaking out of turn to an actual, human person who simply disagrees with his point of view. The spiritual component of our warfare is firstly, and foremost, spiritual. Inherently spiritual. Primarily spiritual. It’s happening on another plane of reality.

Prayer is emotional, not logical.

Prayer is mental, not physical.

Prayer is personal, not universal.

Prayer is experiential, not observable.

Prayer is based on principles--it’s conceptual--not factual.

Put short: Prayer is spiritual. This is what Paul means when he says that our war is not against flesh and blood here on earth, but against spiritual forces in the heavens. Physical interventions for physical problems, spiritual interventions for spiritual problems. It is harmful and dishonest to point at a character like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and say, “Burn the witch! She’s got a demon! Burn the witch! She’s in league with the Devil!”

If you disagree with me, consider Jesus Christ. In his private conversations with his disciples, he said that there would come a time when we would need to take up swords (Mark 14, I think, in the ‘abomination of desolation’ passage), but then, on the way to the garden of Gethsemane, his disciples produce two swords, and Jesus tells them to put those away. In the English, it’s often translated, “Those are enough,” like, those two swords are enough swords. But that doesn’t make any sense in context, like, at all, and when you read the original Greek, the translation is more like, “Enough of that.” Peter then takes one of those swords and uses it to cut off the ear of one of their arresting officers, which Jesus promptly heals back.

Think through it.

Jesus often used physical images to illustrate spiritual truths. Pearls, coins, sheep, fields, sowing seeds, separating wheat from chaff, a kingdom, a feast, a wedding. The disciples are worried about where their next meal will come from, arguing over which one of them forgot to pack bread for their journey, and Jesus says, “Beware the bread of the Pharisees.” That’s how Jesus teaches.

The sword is no different. Jesus says there’s coming a time when we will need to learn spiritual warfare, with a spiritual sword (the sword of the Spirit), and his disciples, who so often get it wrong, bust out two actual swords. Jesus rebukes them: “Enough of this!” Like he’s saying, “We don’t even have time for me to get into this with you guys. You haven’t seen it by now? I’m not talking about physical swords. Let’s go to the garden and pray awhile.” This isn’t a load-out; he’s not taking an inventory of their weapons and walking them into a sword-fight with Roman guards. He’s taking them to a garden, to pray, to commune with a God who walks with men and women in the great gardens of life, unseen.

So we read about the full armor of God, and we’re not reading about a sword, a shield, a helmet, a belt, or sandals. We’re reading about the Spirit, faith, salvation, truth, peace. And we’re reading about elements of prayer as spiritual warfare, as verse 18 concludes. The sword prayed against an unseen enemy stings him, where his immaterial form evades an earthly blade. The shield prayed against an unseen enemy strengthens us against his unseen attacks, of which we’d otherwise only feel the effects. Salvation prayed against an enemy protects our minds from his blows of blame, of doubt, of depression, of fatalism—all unseen in this material world but having very real effects in another.

Lastly, I mentioned that it’s often taught that the belt of truth holds all of this together. It doesn’t. Too often, I hear this passage preached like this: “What happens when you don’t wear your belt? You’re like those boys in the gas station parking lot, pants down around your ankles! Don’t be caught with your pants down!” Cleverness was a quality first found in the serpent, and preachers who rely on cleverness are snakes. Read a book. Have you ever seen a Roman centurion in a pair of dungarees? combat trousers? khaki slacks? blue jeans? No. 

The image that Paul is bringing to mind is that of an ancient warrior, and, to the church at Ephesus in Asia Minor, the immediate thought would be that of a Roman soldier. A Roman soldier wears a tunic. A long shirt. The belt doesn’t hold it up. The belt doesn’t hold the armor together, either: A soldier’s armor has leather straps.

So often, we place highest value on ‘truth.’ But what is the role of truth in the full armor of God? In Rome, the cingulum militare--the soldier’s belt--was a symbol of rank, of status. Studs and straps were combined and added to form their equivalent of our own modern-day patches and pins. With one look at the man’s belt, a Roman citizen would know if they’re seeing a prefect, a tribune, or a centurion, like we would know a colonel, lieutenant colonel, or first lieutenant.

What’s the point, here? ‘Truth’ is not a weapon that we wield: “I’m right and you’re wrong. I’m on the side of truth.” No, and truth is not this thing holding it all up or holding it all together: “I’m so glad I know the truth... the truth is...” No, no, no. 

Truth speaks directly to identity.

Think about when Jesus encountered the devil, in Matthew 4, commonly called the ‘Temptation of the Christ.’ In that passage, the author does something interesting, which has implications for us in the way that we wage spiritual warfare through prayer. Three times, it says that the devil approached Jesus: “the devil approached him... the devil took him to the holy city... again, the devil took him away...”

What is Jesus’ response?

“Go away Satan!”

See that? The author uses one word, ‘devil,’ from the Greek meaning ‘tempter,’ or ‘false-accuser,’ or ‘blame-giver.’ It was actually similar to a legal term in their day, an equivalent to our word ‘prosecutor,’ only, with connotations that this was a false witness against the defendant. To be sure, there is another word used for the devil in the Greek, which is just exactly the same as our word ‘prosecutor,’ without the connotation of false-accusation, but still used of the devil. In Matthew’s gospel, this accuser speaks in lies and temptations. He’s a devil: “The tempter approached him, the tempter took him, again the tempter came.” Jesus speaks, and he uses a completely different word, ‘Satan,’ from the Hebrew ha-satana, meaning ‘enemy.’ Jesus rightly identifies the voice of accusation and blame as an unseen enemy combatant.

Jesus knew the truth. 

And Jesus spoke the truth in a way that revealed the status, the identity, the rank of that devil as an enemy and as lower than the Christ. In Christ, you and I are ranked above all that we’ve done wrong, and all that we could ever possibly be blamed for. Our status is that of sonship, not slavery. Our rank is that of royalty, as evidenced by the silver stars on our belt, the truths that our king has spoken over each of us.

I wish we would wage our spiritual war in the Spirit, as we’re commanded to. I wish we would endeavor, like the bible so often says, to lead quiet lives and to be meek, to be gentle, like our Lord. I wish we could stop using the warfare imagery of the biblical texts to justify our earthly atrocities, and that we would realize our status in this world, as a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special sons and daughters (1 Peter 2:9). Why? Because, as Peter wrote in the very next breath, a verse which never gets quoted along with 2:9, see 2:11: it is your sinful desires “which wage war against your soul.”

We’re prize-fighters in this war called life, and truth is less the banner we fight under and more the belt we fight from. We train like boxers, as Paul said, against ourselves. The war is not Democrats versus Republicans. It’s not traditional family values versus “the gay-agenda.” It’s not pro-this versus pro-that, because it’s not out there at all. No, the war is within each of us. “So I do not run like one who runs aimlessly or box like one beating the air. Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified” (1 Corinthians 9:26-27 CSB). The war is on the unseen battlefield of the human heart, where desires compete for the high ground of our own personhood, our personal identity. Some of us are letting our sinful desire for vengeance and bloodshed to overcome competing desires and rise to the level of affecting identity. We’re becoming hateful.

Remember who you are.

Fight on.