The armor of God is a deeply personal subject—one that’s almost impossible to talk about without turning our attention inward.
Am I wearing the belt of truth?
Am I wielding the shield of faith?
Am I, am I, am I . . . ?
Those are good questions. Those are important questions. Those are questions that we, as Christians, absolutely must be asking ourselves.
But they’re not the only questions. If those are the only questions we ask, we’ll miss the bigger picture:
You’re not the only one on the battlefield.
You’re not the only one wearing this armor.
You’re not the only one taking a stand against “the wiles of the devil” (Ephesians 6:11).
It’s so easy for each of us to feel like Elijah—overwhelmed and exhausted, ready to collapse, believing that we’re the only ones engaged in the battle. “Or do you not know what the Scripture says of Elijah, how he pleads with God against Israel, saying, ‘LORD, they have killed Your prophets and torn down Your altars, and I alone am left, and they seek my life’? But what does the divine response say to him? ‘I have reserved for Myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal’” (Romans 11:2-4).
When Elijah thought he was the only one left in Israel willing to fight the good fight, God opened his eyes to the truth: there were 7,000 other God-fearing Israelites standing on Elijah’s side of the battlefield. He was not alone.
And neither are you.
Roman soldiers didn’t go into battle alone—they went into battle surrounded by their fellow brothers-in-arms. Around the time Paul wrote his letter, a single Roman soldier would have been part of a larger unit called a century—about 100 men led by a single centurion. Six centuries would work together as a cohort, and 10 cohorts would form a legion—more than 5,000 trained soldiers marching toward the same goal, each prepared to fight the same fight.
As “a good soldier of Jesus Christ” (2 Timothy 2:3), you, too, are part of something bigger. You are one member of a much larger army—an army whose soldiers “have not bowed the knee to Baal,” who march under the banner of God Most High. Their goal is your goal. Their battles are your battles.
That’s not just flowery language. We’re not flying solo on the battlefield, free to choose when and how we attack. We have a divine Commander issuing our orders, and the soldiers around you are depending on you to follow those orders—just as you depend on them to do the same.
We’ve spent this Journey inspecting every piece of armor that Paul laid out in Ephesians 6, and we’ve analyzed its role in our spiritual battles. Today’s lesson, though, has very little to do with the armor itself—and everything to do with the people wearing it.
Fighting alongside others should change how we fight, because how we fight affects those around us.
Today, we’ll take a closer look at a handful of group tactics employed by the Roman armies—specifically, we’ll look at why they matter and how they can keep us safe on our spiritual battlefield.
Let’s start with the swords.
In the Roman army, it didn’t matter if you were right-handed or left-handed. All soldiers held their swords in their right hands and wore their sheaths over their right hips. Roman soldiers kept tight ranks. If a legion of soldiers, all marching side-by-side, all drew their weapons from different hips and with different hands, there would be chaos. Soldiers would be bumped, shoved and even sliced by their own neighbors.
By drawing from the right hip with the right hand, every soldier could safely (and quickly!) draw his sword without harming or disrupting his fellow soldiers. And because all soldiers held their shield with their left hand and their swords with their right, the entire front line could stab at the enemy with a fluid, uniform and easily executed motion.
In other words, even though there were multiple correct ways to solve the problem, the whole army became more effective when it employed the same method. When it came to the sword, there wasn’t room for personal preference or alternate approaches.
What does that have to do with us, exactly? Well, in Corinth (and other Roman cities), meat sold in the marketplace had often been consecrated as sacrifices to pagan gods. The Corinthian Christians wanted to know how they should handle this. Was that meat okay to eat? Should they avoid it?
Paul told them two seemingly conflicting things: first, that “concerning the eating of things offered to idols, we know that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is no other God but one” (1 Corinthians 8:4). In other words, meat offered to idols was effectively meat offered to nothing. But several verses later, he concluded, “Therefore, if food makes my brother stumble, I will never again eat meat, lest I make my brother stumble” (verse 13).
How do we get from it doesn’t really matter to I’ll never eat meat again?
The key is in verse 9. Paul warned the Corinthians, “But beware lest somehow this liberty of yours become a stumbling block to those who are weak.” And here we find a fundamental principle of Christianity: just because we have the right to do something doesn’t mean we should do it.
Before their conversion many of the Corinthian believers had made sacrifices to idols. There was a time in their lives when some of these Christians had looked at those idols as actual gods who could impact or guide their lives. To some of them, eating meat from those sacrifices felt like returning to their old way of life—even though they technically weren’t.
“All things are lawful for me,”4 wrote Paul, “but not all things are helpful; all things are lawful for me, but not all things edify. Let no one seek his own, but each one the other’s well-being” (1 Corinthians 10:23-24). In another letter, he explained, “If your brother is grieved because of your food, you are no longer walking in love. Do not destroy with your food the one for whom Christ died” (Romans 14:15).
A Roman soldier could have held his sword in his left hand. The Corinthians could have eaten meat offered to idols. And in both cases, it would have caused trouble for those nearby. You might not have to deal with meat offered to idols today, but the principle is still the same:
Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
Sometimes marching as a soldier in the army of God means abiding by additional restrictions—not restrictions given explicitly in God’s law, but restrictions we accept in order to keep our freedom from becoming a stumbling block to the ones Christ died for.
The important question for us to ask ourselves is this: How am I wielding the sword of the Spirit in my own life? Our primary focus with this God-given weapon should not be how we’re allowed to use it, but how we can use it in a way that doesn’t harm those around us.
As we learned earlier, the shield is already a powerful and important part of the panoply, even on its own. But part of what made the Roman army so formidable was the use of something called the testudo formation. When facing an enemy who was attacking from a distance—perhaps with fiery darts—soldiers would tighten their ranks and form a nearly impenetrable barrier with their shields. Soldiers in front would hold their shields forward, and those behind them would hold their shields toward the sky.
The resulting testudo (or “tortoise”) formation kept the soldiers protected from both arrows and infantry. Together, as a unit, they could slowly move toward an enemy without suffering many (if any!) casualties.
But the effectiveness of the testudo depended on everyone. One soldier with a poorly positioned shield would leave the whole formation open to attack—and as soldiers began to fall, more and more of the formation would be exposed to the enemy.
This might sound like we’re working toward the same lesson we just reached while examining the sword, but there’s a difference. With the sword, we learned that we must actively avoid causing harm to our fellow soldiers. With the shield, we must actively seek to protect them.
These are, of course, two sides of the same coin. It is vital—absolutely essential—that we be able to trust the believers with whom we form ranks. We cannot focus our attention on fighting the enemy if we are constantly on the lookout for errant sword swings and gaps in the wall of shields.
The obvious warning here is, “Be careful who you join ranks with.” Not everyone is going to be mindful of how he uses his sword. Not everyone is going to be vigilant with how he positions his shield. And “not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father in heaven” (Matthew 7:21).
Does this mean we should expect perfection and flawless execution from those around us? Of course not. We can’t expect that even from ourselves. But if faith and Spirit are our shields and swords, we should make every effort to ensure we’re marching alongside those who share the same faith and the same Spirit. God asked, “Can two walk together, unless they are agreed?” (Amos 3:3). Of course they can’t. A difference in fundamental beliefs means a difference in goals and intentions, which guarantees an eventual conflict of interests. These are important things to consider.
But the less obvious warning here is, “You are responsible for protecting more than just yourself on the battlefield.” Your faith can either help defend your fellow soldiers—or else leave them open to attack.
After committing the very first murder, Cain angrily asked God, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9). The answer is of course. Of course we should be looking out for the safety of our spiritual brothers and sisters.
The trouble is, sometimes we don’t. Paul wrote, “Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:1-2).
Sometimes, when we see others “overtaken in any trespass,” our first inclination is to raise our swords instead of our shields—to attack the one who’s struggling instead of lending aid. Paul was saying, “No, don’t do that. Show mercy. Show compassion. Help them back on their feet, raise your shield to keep any more arrows from getting through, and do your part to guide them back to God.”
While there’s certainly no place for the unrepentant and unapologetic soldier (see 1 Corinthians 5:1-13), there certainly is a place for love and patience and kindness when we see a comrade struck by one of Satan’s fiery darts—and there is absolutely a place for reacceptance when we see that soldier repent and return to God (see 2 Corinthians 2:3-11).
Our goal is to “strengthen the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees” (Hebrews 12:12), not destroy them for being weak. We are to “be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32), remembering that “love will cover a multitude of sins” that are repented of (1 Peter 4:8).
Peter wrote about our “like precious faith” (2 Peter 1:1). When each of us stands beside our neighbor, shields joined side by side, that precious faith provides us with incredible protection against the attacks of the adversary.
No army goes into battle without some sort of a plan—and no army expects that plan to survive the battle.
On the battlefield, conditions can change in an instant. An effective army needs to be able to adapt to those changes in unison. If it can’t—if each individual soldier attempts to enact a solution of his own—the result is chaos.
Roman officers had two key methods for communicating with their troops in the heat of battle: the cornu and the vexillum. The cornu was a 9-foot long, G-shaped horn carried by an officer known as the cornicen, who would use the horn to communicate the commanding officer’s orders. Roman soldiers would have these various trumpet calls (and their meanings) committed to memory, enabling them to hear and react immediately.
One of those calls was a command to look at the vexillum—a small flag carried on a tall pole by a soldier known as the vexillarius. By waving the vexillum in prearranged movements, the vexillarius could communicate further orders to the troops—where to go, what formation to make or what the newest objective was.
Paul didn’t write about horns and flags in Ephesians 6—but he did write about an even better means of battlefield communication available to the Christian soldier:
Prayer.
After telling us to take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, Paul added that we should be “praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints—and for me, that utterance may be given to me, that I may open my mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that in it I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak” (Ephesians 6:18-20).
Prayer is how we stay watchful. Prayer is how we stay in communication with God. Prayer is how we stay up-to-date on the current battle plan.
When we pray, we ask God to help us focus on His Word and His way. We shift our attention from the clamor of the battlefield and fix our eyes and ears on what God is trying to tell us. In addition, through our prayers, we petition God to take special care of our fellow soldiers—especially the ministers and elders who have been charged with leading and guiding us through this life.
It’s easy to get distracted on the battlefield. It’s easy to think we know the best way forward and to follow our instincts. But there’s a reason Paul encouraged us to “continue earnestly in prayer, being vigilant in it with thanksgiving” (Colossians 4:2). Prayer keeps us focused on “the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2), the captain of our salvation (Hebrews 2:10)—which makes it that much easier to hear, see and obey the commands God has for us.
You are not the only one on this battlefield. There are thousands more who have not bowed the knee to Baal—thousands more who have taken up the armor of God and who are prepared to stand and fight the enemy.
It matters how you hold your sword.
It matters how you use your shield.
It matters whether you’re paying attention to the General’s orders.
We are all part of a unit—a body. “And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26). The fact that “the members should have the same care for one another” (verse 25) is a responsibility—and a privilege.
As a unit—as a body, as an army, as a Church—we can accomplish more together than any of us could ever accomplish on our own. As you march out to face the enemy, never forget:
This isn’t your fight.
It’s our fight.
4 It’s important to note that Paul was not saying, “Literally every action a person can take is now lawful.” The Greek word translated “all things” means “‘all’ in the sense of ‘each (every) part that applies’” (HELPS Word-Studies, 3956). Paul is confirming that everything allowed within the confines of the law is lawful—in effect, “all things that are lawful are lawful for me,” or, “I’m well within my rights to do the things God says I’m allowed to do.” This is important for the distinction he’s preparing to make between lawful and helpful. It’s clear from other passages that Paul still considered many things to be forbidden by the law (e.g. Romans 6:12-19).
