What Does the Armor of God Look Like?
I love the memes flooding the internet showing a woman dressed in Roman armor. Her head bowed, her form bloodied, she kneels as she leans against her sword. The words on the image vary but they make it clear this warrior represents the bride of Christ in battle. The picture and words combine to say, “Here we are, soldiers wearing the armor of God, battling against the enemy no matter the cost.”
It’s a powerful image, but I have to wonder how accurate this picture is. I can certainly imagine the spiritual forces against God’s people wearing something akin to Romanesque armor. But how does the armor of God compare to this?
Paul was familiar with the Roman soldiers’ uniforms. It’s generally assumed this was the inspiration for his description of the armor of God in Ephesians 6. If that’s the case, we should picture two armies facing each other similarly dressed but only contrasted in their drastically different sizes.
It’s stirring, certainly, to think of ourselves as part of a small military force capable of overwhelming one quite a bit greater. We feel like David confronting Goliath. But even in that battle, something more than size distinguished one side from the other. Like all Philistine soldiers, Goliath’s armor was heavy, metallic, cumbersome, and inflexible. David, on the other hand, wore nothing but the garments of a shepherd. His defenses, though unimpressive in the natural, proved to be impenetrable to his enemy’s stronger-looking weapons.
How did cloth armor do what metal couldn’t?
Armor as a Branch
Think about how God prepared Israel for the battles ahead when they first left Egypt. There’s no scriptural evidence they walked out with weapons in their possession, much less armor. God didn’t even start training them as physical warriors for quite some time. “It came to pass, when Pharaoh had let the people go, that God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines, although that was near; for God said, ‘Lest perhaps the people change their minds when they see war, and return to Egypt” (Exodus 13:17 NKJV).
They had either acquired or made swords by the time they fought Amalek in the wilderness, but even then, it wasn’t their steel that brought them victory. Their most important weapon was the “rod of God” Moses held overhead in Exodus 17. He held this stick, this bit of an almond tree, over God’s people like a banner, announcing the Branch known as Messiah as their only defense, the whole of their armor.
Soon after that, God met with them and called them not a kingdom of soldiers but his kingdom of priests (Exodus 19:7). Then he clothed his priests in a battle dress of white linen garments. These were the “soldiers” that went out ahead of the army protected by nothing more than tunics and belts and turbans of cloth. It is the priestly garments that we need to compare to the armor of God Paul described in Ephesians 6.
The Soft and Beautiful Armor of God
The belt of truth is the colorful sash that secures our priestly garments around us. It’s woven of colors reserved for the inner rooms of the tabernacle where nothing false resides. “The Truth” himself abides there and it’s his truth that surrounds and secures our battle uniform (John 14:6).
A breastplate covers our hearts, but it’s not made of metal. It’s a tunic woven of the white linen of the good works that we do–blessings dripping from our robes even for those who hate us (Revelation 19:8, Luke 6:27).
In the secret place of the Most High, we stand unshod in respect for his holiness. But here, on the battlefield, we wear sandals that affirm our position as sons and daughters of the God we serve. With these shoes, we take territory in the name of our King by announcing the good news that brings many children to the household of faith.
We take up our shield but wield it like a censer. Smoke rises from the fiery embers it carries, quenching every burning arrow from the enemy as we stoke it with the sweet incense of our prayers. Confident in the knowledge that God hears us, we march forward in faith.
Our heads are covered with a “helmet” made from more fine linen. Wrapped round and round in a turban, it hugs our minds with the constant reassurance of God’s power to save us to the uttermost.
The sword we wield is heard but not seen. Words from God’s arsenal proceed from our mouths–words the enemy can neither deflect nor defend against.
Repicturing the Battle Scene
How does this change how we see ourselves going to battle? Imagine it.
A vast army fills the landscape before us like a swarm of locusts consuming a barley field. They clank with armor, bristle with spears, shake the ground with each footstep, and shoot threats and intimidation through the air.
We face them as a small band of shepherds and priests, clothed from head to toe in insubstantial linen. A column of smoke and fire rises from our shields, consuming the rain of arrows from the enemy’s camp as we open our mouths and declare our victory.
How incongruous. How improbable. Who would ever guess that the greater army between these two is the smaller, lighter force with God? No wonder he who sits in the heavens laughs (Psalm 2:4).