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THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD
By J. H. JOWETT, D.D.
The Whole Armour of God
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THE WHOLE ARMOUR OF GOD
BY
JOHN HENRY JOWETT, M.A., D.D.
_Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, New York City_
[Illustration: Logo of Fleming H. Revell Company]
NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO
Fleming H. Revell Company
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
Copyright, 1916, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
New York: 158 Fifth Avenue
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave.
London: 21 Paternoster Square
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE INVISIBLE ANTAGONISMS 9
II. THE GIRDLE OF TRUTH 25
III. THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS 41
IV. READY! 59
V. THE SHIELD OF FAITH 77
VI. THE HELMET OF HOPE 91
VII. THE SWORD OF THE SPIRIT 109
VIII. THE SOLDIER'S USE OF PRAYER 127
IX. WATCH YE! 143
X. ENDURING HARDNESS 161
XI. THE INVISIBLE COMMANDER ON THE FIELD 179
XII. THE SOLDIER'S FIRE 197
XIII. THE VICTORY OVER THE BEAST 215
XIV. THE COMING GOLDEN AGE 231
XV. MORE THAN CONQUERORS 249
I
THE INVISIBLE ANTAGONISMS
_Eternal God, may no distraction draw us away from our communion
with Thee. May we come to Thee like children going home,
jubilant and glad. We have been in the far country and our
garments are stained. May we hasten to the ministry of
forgiveness and reconciliation. If we have been on fields of
heavy battle, where the fire of the enemy has been awful and
unceasing, may we hasten to Thee for the overhauling of our
armor, and for the renewal of our strength. If we have been
called upon to walk weary roads of unfamiliar sorrow, may we
turn to Thee as to refreshing springs. If we have lapsed from
our high calling, may we renew our covenant. If we have missed a
gracious opportunity, may we seek another chance. If we have
been counted faithful in any service, and have fulfilled our
commission by the help of Thy grace, may we hasten to give the
glory to Thee. Unite us, we humbly pray Thee, in the holy bonds
of Christian sympathy. Deepen our pity so that we may share the
sorrows of people far away. May we feel the burden of the
burdened and weep with them that weep. May we not add to our sin
by ceasing to remember those who are in need. Grant peace in our
time, O Lord, the peace which is the fruit of righteousness. Let
Thy will be done among all the peoples, so that in common
obedience to Thee all the nations may find abiding union. Amen._
I
THE INVISIBLE ANTAGONISMS
"Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be
able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all to
stand." Eph. 6:13.
Let me give one or two other translations which devout scholars have
made in the attempt to bring out the precise significance of Paul's
original words. Many interpreting minds act like the solar spectrum, and
they help to display the wealthy contents in the pure white light of
gospel truth. Here then is Dr. Moffat's translation: "So take God's
armour that you may be able to make a stand in the evil day and hold
your ground by overcoming all your foes." And here is Dr. Weymouth's
fine attempt to elicit the buried wealth of the apostle's words: "Put on
the complete armour of God so that you may be able to stand your ground
on the day of battle, and having fought to the end to remain victors on
the field." That is a translation which stirs one's blood, and I am
inclined to regard it as a very vital interpretation of the rousing,
soldierly counsel of the apostle Paul.
The apostle is writing to a tiny company of Christians at Ephesus, so
tiny that they are like a drop in a bucket in the midst of that teaming
population. For this is what has happened. Under the constraining
influence of the gospel of Christ this little handful of men and women
have done one of the hardest things we are ever called upon to do. They
have cut themselves away from old fellowships. They have separated
themselves from the fond attachments of a lifetime. They have severed
themselves from venerable roots. They have forfeited dear and vital
friendships, and they are now living an alien life within the circle of
their own city. They are strangers in their own home. They are
foreigners in their native land. They are pilgrims in their own country.
They are in it and yet not of it. They are like tropical plants which
find themselves in the Arctic Zone. And it is to this little company
that the apostle writes this letter, and to them he gives the inspiring
counsel of my text: "Put on the complete armour of God that ye may be
able to stand your ground in the day of battle."
In what sort of circumstances did these people live? Let us take a swift
survey of the hostility of their surroundings. What was the nature of
the antagonisms by which this little company were beset? First of all,
there was the overwhelming power of the world. Their city itself was
luxuriously placed. The very location of Ephesus was favourable to
prosperity, enjoying as it did the double advantage of shelter and of
openness to the outer world. I was amazed when I walked among its ruins
in the late spring at the magnificence of its position. If you will
think of a cup, with more than a third of its rim broken down to its
base, you will gain a rough but practical suggestion of the groundwork
of this ancient city. About two-thirds of the city are immediately
engirt with noble and richly verdured hills. Then this sheltering rim of
hills is broken, and the cup opens out in one direction to a port on
the open sea, and in the other direction to a rich alluvial plain,
famous for its wonderful fertility. Such was Ephesus, sheltered and yet
open, with protective arms of hills about it, and yet widely hospitable
to the trade and wealth of the world. No wonder Ephesus was luxurious,
no wonder she was carnal, and no wonder she was ennervated. She was the
very hunting ground of the garish world, and in this mesmeric garishness
this little company of Christians had their home. This was the first of
their antagonisms.
Well, then, to mention a second antagonism, there was the majestic power
of an alien religion. The magnificent Temple of Diana, which is now only
a little heap of stones, with literally not one stone resting orderly
upon another, then dominated the city by its splendour, and represented
a religion which held the people in the loose leash of easy and
licentious morals. Just think of that resplendent temple, that gorgeous
temple, and then think of some obscure house in some obscure street,
where this little company of Christians met to commune with their Lord,
and in the contrast you will realize another of the antagonisms which
assailed their discipleship every hour of the day. The Temple of Diana
versus the little Christian meeting-house! It makes one think of another
contrast in the grey and windy city of Edinburgh; the dark, frowning
Palace of Holyrood versus John Knox's small house in Canongate! And
history tells us which of these two proved to be the dwelling-place of
invincible strength. This was the second of their antagonisms.
And then, to name a third of their antagonisms, there was the pervasive
power of popular customs and traditions. Every day this little handful
of Christians were up against customs that were like invisible bonds.
Yes, religious and social customs always thread the common life, and to
oppose them is to run up against antagonisms which are like invisible
webs of barbed wire. We know what it means to oppose a popular custom
to-day. Just oppose even a simple one; decide to wear no black in the
hour of bereavement and you are up against a world of hostility and
suspicion. And, still further, let the convention you defy be an
ecclesiastical convention, or one which has somehow come to wear
religious sanctions, and the antagonism is tremendous. Well, this little
company of Christians in Ephesus were defying popular social customs and
popular religious customs every day, and they were, therefore,
confronted with a fierce and terrific opposition. And so they had all
these antagonisms to meet, the hardening glare of the world, the
far-reaching power of an alien religion, and the tyranny of popular
custom and tradition. And in the very thick of all these you must
imagine these comparatively youthful Christians seeking to live their
separate and consecrated life.
But in this strong and tender letter to this little flock of Christians,
the apostle Paul looks beyond the opposition of flesh and blood, and the
steelly barriers of usage and tradition; he pierces the visible veil and
beholds invisible antagonists, spiritual, alive, active and hostile.
Listen to him: "For ours is not a conflict with mere flesh and blood,
but with the despotisms, the empires, the forces that control and govern
this dark world, the spiritual hosts of evil arrayed against us in the
heavenly warfare." When the apostle looked upon Ephesus it seemed as
though the whole city became transparent, and behind the visible and
transient veils he saw these spiritual foes. There was much mischief in
Ephesus, there was much weaving of evil webs, there was much coming and
going of worldly forces; but to Paul, the real prompters and instigators
were back in the unseen. This is the teaching of this great apostle.
These Christians in the early Church had to fight unseen enemies,
antagonists in the spirit--"spiritual hosts of evil in the heavenly
warfare." The real enemy is entrenched in the unseen, and he is ever
active, night and day, and the early believer confronted him in ancient
Ephesus, as the later believer confronts him in modern New York and
London.
Now it is of these invisible antagonists that the apostle most urgently
warns these young disciples. He warns them of the extraordinary subtlety
of the warfare, of the wiles of the devil, of the stratagems of these
mysterious powers, of their traps and devices, of their diabolic
cleverness, and of their amazing and manifold ingenuities. The
instruments of modern material warfare are almost incredible in the
refinement of their destructiveness, and I have no doubt in my own mind
that even these ingenuities are also diabolic, and that if we could
pierce the veil we should see the invisible enemies at their fiendish
work. But these unseen antagonists out-do all the subtleties of the
material instruments of destruction in the devices in which they lure
and snare and entrap and overthrow the soul.
Well, then, how do these antagonists work? How is this cunning
antagonism exerted upon the soul? It is exerted both mediately and
immediately. First of all, these invisible antagonists work immediately
upon the soul. Spirit can work upon spirit; mind can lay pressure upon
mind. There is a direct and immediate influence upon the secret life of
man. That is the teaching of the Word of God, and I freely confess to
you that there are phenomena in my own life, and in the lives of others
which I cannot interpret in any other way. I know it is altogether
mysterious, but it is by no means incredible. In our own day we are
obtaining first glimpses into avenues of spiritual activity which
hitherto have been shrouded in mist and darkness. The phenomena of
thought transference, of telepathy, of hypnotism, are lifting the veil
upon modes of influence of which we have scarcely dreamed. One mind can
influence another mind directly without either speech or deed, leaving
upon the other the seal and imprint of its own mould. When I see this I
do not count it incredible when it is reported to me that there are
spiritual antagonists in Ephesus and in New York who prey upon the
thoughts of man, and work upon his imagination, and engage his
sentiments and ambitions with the purpose of luring him from his sacred
loyalties, and inciting him to rebellion against the holy and most high
God. "Ours is not a conflict with mere flesh and blood," says the
apostle. We have invisible foes.
And then, in the second place, these spiritual antagonists work
mediately upon the soul. They work upon the soul through the medium of
human ministries--through the contagious power of crowds, through the
gravitation of the age, through the general spirit of society, through
the psychological climate in which our life is cast. And they also work
upon the soul through the medium of individuals, through men and women
who have been captured by the evil one and who are now used in his
purposes of moral and spiritual destruction. Our invisible antagonists
cast their lure upon us through the ministry of our fellow-men.
Now all these antagonisms, seen and unseen, mediate and immediate, this
little company of Christians had to meet in ancient Ephesus. You say the
antagonisms are tremendous! Yes, indeed they are, and the Christian life
is a tremendous thing. That is what tens of thousands of professing
Christians have yet to learn. Let it be said that of all tremendous
things the Christian life is the most tremendous. It is not something we
can play with in idle hours, it is not a merely pleasant fellowship, it
is not the bloodless act of joining the visible Church. No, it is not
the carrying of a highly imposing label; it is a desperate, continuous,
but withal, a glorious campaign. Speaking for myself, I confess that I
have to have my fingers on the throat of the devil every day of my
mortal life. This is how I find it. I do not gain a single inch without
a fight. No fine victory is ever gained by me without blood. O, the
sternness of the Christian fight! and O, its attractiveness and its
glory! Yes, indeed, you are right; the antagonisms are tremendous.
How then, are they to be met? If these are our antagonisms, seen and
unseen, in New York as well as in Ephesus, how can we meet and overcome
them? Let us listen to the Word: "Put on the complete armour of _God_."
Let us begin there. Our first need is God. Without God we are beaten
even before the fight begins. We have no more likelihood of vanquishing
our spiritual foes without God than this unaided hand of mine would be
able to drive back the solid phalanxes of the German hosts. We must
begin with God. In the tenth verse of this chapter the apostle unfolds
the primary secret of victory. "Be strong in the Lord and in the power
of His might." But that is a very imperfect translation, laying too much
emphasis upon the soldier and too little upon his Lord. I greatly like
the marginal rendering of the revised version: "Be made powerful in the
Lord." Does not that word sound full of promise for soldiers who are
about to storm a difficult position? "Be made powerful in the Lord." Let
God make you powerful! Such power is not a trophy of battle; it is the
fruit of communion. It is a bequest and not a conquest. This power is
not something we have to win; it is something we have to receive. It is
not something we have to gain; it is something we have to take. "Be made
powerful in the Lord!" And listen again: "Ye shall receive power when
the Holy Spirit is come upon you." That power, that vital endowment of
strength, is the gift of God, one of the ministries of the divine grace,
and it is offered to every soldier without money and without price. So
is it true that our first necessity in battle is to hasten away to the
Lord to receive the gifts of the soldier's strength.
But not only is there the imperative need of God for our initial
strength, but for every piece of armour which may be needful in the
fight. Armour for offence, and armour for defence; armour to meet every
device and stratagem with which we may be assailed. I propose to
consider this armour, piece by piece, and over and over again I shall
have to tell you that you may find every piece of armour in the
abundantly stocked and open and free armoury of God. And therefore do I
say again that if we are to be triumphant over our antagonists, our
first need is God. "Seek ye the Lord." "O come, let us kneel before the
Lord our Maker."
And then, our other great requirement is the ceaseless co-operation of
our wills. The life of a Christian soldier is not a continuous reclining
on "flowery beds of ease." Having obtained the strength we must
ceaselessly exercise it in the practice of our wills. Listen to the
divine challenge to the will: "Be made powerful in the Lord!" Well,
then, exercise the will you have, your weak will, and go and kneel in
humility at the source of power, and receive the promised gift. "Put on
the whole armour of God!" Well, then, exercise the will and go to the
armoury of grace for thine arms. "Stand therefore!" Well, then, having
received the gift of power, exercise thy will in stubborn and invincible
resistance. "Here stand I," said one who had received the strength,
"Here stand I; I can do no other, God help me!" "Having done all,
stand"--and victory shall be yours! In the name of God the Father, God
the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, victory shall most certainly be yours!
Says Dr. Weymouth: "Stand your ground in the day of battle, and having
fought to the end remain victors on the field." "Victors on the field."
I am thrilled by the inspiring word--"Victors on the field." After every
temptation--the temptation that comes to me in sunshine, or the
temptation that comes to me in the gloom--after every fight, victors on
the field! The Lord's banner flying, His banner of love and grace; and
the evil one and all his host in utter rout, and in full and dire
retreat!
Soldiers of Christ arise,
And put your armour on;
Strong in the strength which God supplies
Through His eternal Son.
II
THE GIRDLE OF TRUTH
_Holy Father, we humbly pray Thee to reveal unto us the
unsearchable riches of Christ. Refine our discernments in order
that we may behold them; and deepen our hearts in order that we
may long to possess them. Unveil to us our poverty so that we
may seek Thy wealth. Lead us through meekness and penitence to
the reception of spiritual power. May our loins be girt about
with truth. May we drink deeply at the waters of promise and
find refreshment in immediate duty. We pray that Thou wilt bind
us together in the bonds of holy sympathy. Help us to gather up
the needs of others in common intercession. Make us ready to
bear the burden of the race. Quicken our imaginations in order
that we may enter into the sorrows of Thy children in every
land. We humbly pray Thee to steady our faith in these days of
bewilderment. In all the confusion of our time may we never lose
sight of Thy throne. In all the obscuring of our ideals may we
never lose sight of Christ. And O, Lord, out of our disorder may
we be led into larger ways. Let Thy Holy Spirit brood over us,
quickening all that is full of sacred promise, and destroying
all that hinders our friendship with Thee. Amen._
II
THE GIRDLE OF TRUTH
"Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth." Eph.
6:14.
The girdle was just a strong belt holding the different pieces of a
soldier's armour securely in their place. Even in the ordinary Oriental
attire the girdle was a necessity. Without the girdle the loose, flowing
garments became very cumbersome, flapping about the feet, and especially
hindering the movements in a hostile wind. Even the most graceful attire
became an entanglement unless the girdle held it in serviceable bonds.
But the necessity of a girdle was still more imperative on the field of
war. In active fighting loose pieces of armour would be like
embarrassing articles hanging on the soldier rather than appropriate
implements to make him efficient. Loose armour was troublesome and
distressing, making the soldier feel soft, and awkward, and unready,
giving him a sense of going to pieces. The belt bound the loose pieces
together, creating a healthy sense of firmness, compactness, and making
the soldier feel that he had everything well in hand, and enabling him
to meet the enemy's attack with united strength and confidence.
Now it is that figure of the military belt which the apostle is using
in our text, "Let your loins be girt about with truth." The soldier of
Jesus can have his armour flapping about him in disorderly array. He can
be loose and distracted. His energies can be scattered. He can be just a
mass of incoherences and inconsistencies in the presence of the foe. Or
a soldier of Jesus can be firm, and collected, and decisive. He can be
"all there," with every ounce of his strength available for the
immediate fight. And the apostle teaches that this bracing sense of
collectedness, this fine, firm feeling of moral and spiritual
concentration, can only be obtained by binding the entire life with the
splendid and tenacious girdle of gospel truth.
I want to approach the apostle's central teaching along roads which
will gather up the testimony of common experience. We all know the
strength which is imparted to a life when it is girt about with firm
principle. It is even so in the life of a boy when he is passing his
earliest days at school. Is there anything nobler to contemplate than a
fine boy whose life and character are held firm and free in the bond and
girdle of moral principle? It is even so in the later days of college
and university. What college or university graduate has not admired the
decisive strength of some man or woman whose character was held in
splendid consistency by the girdle of moral conviction! What joyful and
boisterous liberty there is in such a life! And it is all the more free
and jubilant because it recognizes fields of license into which it never
strays. And in the broader fields of the world we have the witness of
the same experience. Life that is held in a girdle quadruples its
strength. Life which is bound together even by a strong expediency
gathers force in the bondage. A life which is held in the constraint of
a policy is far mightier than a life which is trailing in scattered
indifference. But a life which is bound together in moral principle,
having all its faculties and powers gathered under one control, has
tremendous force both of attack and resistance.
You may study the contents of that statement and find abundant
illustrations in the lives of men like Lincoln, and Mazzini, and
Gladstone, and John Bright, and John Morley, and James Bryce. All these
men, whether we approve or disapprove their political programmes and
ambitions, are men whose characters reveal no loose ends, no trailing
garments, no unchartered opinions, no vagrant and unlicensed moods, but
rather a moral wholeness and solidity which we know will retain its
splendid consistency in the teeth of the fiercest storm. Yes, even in
the ways of the world men recognize the man who is wearing the belt of
principle, and whose loins are girt about with truth.
But the apostle Paul is thinking of something more than moral
principle, splendid as is the influence of a great principle on the
healthy action of a life. He is thinking of something even finer and
deeper than this, and in which the moral principle is included. He is
thinking of a soul belted with the more distinctive truth of the
Scriptures, a soul girt about with gospel truth and with the ample
promises of God. He is thinking of a man who takes some great truth of
revelation, some mighty word of life, or some broad and bracing promise
of grace, and who belts it about his soul and wears it on active service
in seeking to do the sovereign will. I know not where to begin, or where
to end, when I turn to the pages of biography for examples of men and
women who have worn the girdle of gospel truth and promise. Let me dip
here and there in the many and brilliant records.
Well, then, let us begin with Martin Luther. It is one of the strong
characteristics of Luther that he is ever wearing the girdle of truth,
and bracing himself with the promises of grace. I open his letters
almost at random, in the great year of his life when he defied the pope,
and opposed himself to the strength of uncounted hosts. He is writing to
Melanchthon on May 26, 1521: "Do not be troubled in spirit; but sing the
Lord's song in the night, as we are commanded, and I shall join in. Let
us only be concerned about the Word." There you find him putting on the
girdle! Once again I find him writing a letter to a poor little company
of Christians at Wittenberg: "I send you this thirty-seventh Psalm for
your consolation and instruction. Take comfort and remain steadfast. Do
not be alarmed through the raging of the godless." There again he is
wearing the girdle and urging others to wear it. His loins are girt
about with truth.
Then again there is John Wesley. Let me give you a glimpse of that
noble servant of the spirit as he is putting on the girdle of truth:
"When I opened the New Testament at five o'clock in the morning my eyes
fell on the words, 'There are given unto us exceeding great and precious
promises that we should be partakers of the divine nature.'" He girt his
loins with that truth. "Just before I left the room I opened the Book
again, and this sentence gleamed from the open page, 'Thou art not far
from the Kingdom of God.'" And he girt himself with that promise. He
went to St. Paul's that morning, and in the chant there came to him this
personal message from the Word: "O Israel, trust in the Lord, for in the
Lord there is mercy and in Him there is plenteous redemption, and He
shall redeem Israel from all his sins." Do you not see this noble knight
belting himself for the great crusade that even now awaits him at the
gate?
Then I think I will mention General Gordon, who laid down his life at
Khartoum. Only, if you want to see Gordon girding himself with truth,
and see it adequately, you will have to quote from almost every letter
he ever wrote, and especially his wonderful correspondence with his
sister. Take this sentence from a letter written in Cairo in 1884: "I
have taken the words, 'He will hide me in His hands'; good-night, my
dear sister, I am not moved, even a little." Or take this sentence from
a letter written in Khartoum toward the end of his days: "This word has
been given me, 'It is nothing to our God to help with many or with few,'
and I now take my worries more quietly than before." He put on the
girdle of truth, and his worries were leashed in the girdle, and his
soul was quieted in gospel confidence and serenity.
And I had other examples to offer you, but these must suffice. I had on
my table David Livingstone, and John Woolman, and Josephine Butler, and
Frances Willard, and Catherine Booth, and I wanted to give you glimpses
of all these notable soldiers of the Lord girding themselves for the
open field. But their names shall be their witness. I might have quoted,
had I the knowledge and the time, the testimony of all the saints who
from their labours rest. And concerning them all we should have seen
that their loins were girt about with truth.
Now it was to spiritual equipment of this kind that the apostle was
directing the little company of Christians at Ephesus. Think of their
surroundings:--the overwhelming worldliness, the dominating influence of
an alien religion, the fierce antagonisms of popular customs and
traditions, and all of these backed by invisible hosts of wickedness in
heavenly places. Now what chance would a loose, shuffling Christian have
in circumstances so hostile as these? The Christian in Ephesus, if he is
to be a conqueror, must not slouch along the way with a loose, hang-dog
sort of air, but rather with all the poise and movement of a lion. The
Christian must belt himself about with big truth, truth that will not
only confirm but invigorate, truth that will not only define his creed
but vitalize his soul. And these Ephesian Christians followed the
apostle's counsel and they girded themselves with truth, and so were
able to stand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Let us watch how they did it. They had been converted to the Christian
faith and life. One sure effect of their conversion was a more vivid
sense of sin. After their conversion their own sinfulness began to
reveal itself in more awful relief. The nearer they got to the light the
more their sin appeared, just like invisible writing emerging from its
secrecy when exposed to the open fire. They saw their sin, and they saw
the sin of the people. They were like the prophet Isaiah, to whom also
there came the awakening sense of sin, and with him they could have
cried: "Woe is me, for I am unclean, and I dwell in the midst of a
people of unclean lips." Well, now, how could that little company of
Christians deal with the sin? It was like trying to drain a vast and
bitter marsh that was fed by secret springs. How could they do it? And
the tremendous task only emphasized their weakness, and might have
depressed them into a feeling of helplessness and despair. And we share
that feeling to-day. Think of the colossal sins of Europe, and think of
the sins and moral indifference of the great cities. If the sin be like
a bitter marsh, what is going to drain it? Nay, how are we going to get
the confidence that it can be drained? Well what did Paul do, and what
did he teach his fellow-disciples to do? This is what he did. He found
something even bigger than sin, and he girded himself with the bigger
thing when he confronted the appalling task. Listen to him: "Where sin
abounds grace does much more abound." Yes, sin is a big thing, but grace
is a bigger thing; the biggest thing even in this rebellious and
indifferent world. Sin is a strong thing, but grace is a stronger thing,
even the strongest thing in a revolting and alienated world. Well then,
let your loins be girt about with that truth! Put it around your fears
and uncertainties like a strong girdle. Wear it ever night and day. Go
up to every stupendous task in the vigour of its bracing grip. Begin at
the piece of the bitter marsh nearest to you, and begin to drain it. And
wear the truth--"Where sin abounds, grace doth much more abound." Wear
the truth, say it, sing it, and you will be amazed how the difficulty
will be subdued; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.
There was something else in Ephesus for which these Christians needed
the girdle of truth. Ephesus was a vast city, and these Christians were
only a tiny and obscure fellowship. And even this small fellowship had
to be broken up during the hours of labour, and in those hours each
believer had to stand alone. One of them was perhaps a slave, and there
was no fellow-believer in the house. Or perhaps one was a soldier, and
there wasn't another believer in his regiment, and he had to face it all
alone. We have been reading that one reason for the massed solidity of
the German advance is that the individual German soldier craves the
mystic strength of fellowship, and desires even the physical touch of a
comrade-in-arms. I can understand it. And so could the Ephesian
Christians have understood it. They felt strong when they touched their
fellow-believers, and they felt weakened when the visible communion was
broken.
What, then, shall they do when alone? They must let their loins be girt
about with truth. But what truth? What did the apostle Paul wear in such
isolation? He took this girdle and wrapped it round his loins: "He loved
me, and gave Himself for me." And that girdle gives a man a sense of
glorious fellowship along the emptiest and loneliest road. Put that
girdle on, lonely soul! "He loves me, and gave Himself for me!" Wear it
ever, night and day. And wear it consciously! Say it; sing it--"He loved
me, and gave Himself for me." "Let your loins be girt about with that
truth."
And so have we seen these Ephesian soldiers putting on the girdle. In
the presence of threat and persecution they wore this girdle, "We are
more than conquerors through Him that loved us." When their
circumstances were a medley and a confusion, full of ups and downs, of
strange comings and goings, of mingled joy and sorrow, foul and fair,
they wore this girdle: "All things work together for good to them that
love God." And thus they were braced for all the changes of the
ever-changing day.
So do I urge my fellow-soldiers in this later day to wear the belt.
"Let your loins be girt about with truth." Let us pray the good Lord to
help us even now to put it on. Is the girdle we need this--"He loved me
and gave Himself for me?" Well, put it on. Or is it this--"We have
forgiveness through His blood?" Put it on. Or is it this--"I will come
again and receive you unto myself?" Put it on. Or is it this--"In My
Father's house are many mansions?" Put it on. Or is it this--"I will
never leave thee nor forsake thee?" Put it on. Or is it this great
girdle--"When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, and
through the rivers, they shall not overthrow thee, when thou walkest
through the fire thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame
kindle upon thee?" Put on the girdle, wear it ever, night and day, and
thou shalt find that in the strength of gospel truth thou are competent
to meet all circumstances, and triumphantly perfect thy Saviour's will.
III
THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
_Almighty God, our Father, it is by Thy grace that we attain
unto holiness, and it is by Thy light that we find wisdom. We
humbly pray that Thy grace and light may be given unto us so
that we may come into the liberty of purity and truth. Wilt Thou
graciously exalt our spirits and enable us to live in heavenly
places in Christ Jesus. Impart unto us a deep dissatisfaction
with everything that is low, and mean, and unclean, and create
within us such pure desire that we may appreciate the things
which Thou hast prepared for them that love Thee. Wilt Thou
receive us as guests of Thy table. Give us the glorious sense of
Thy presence, and the precious privilege of intimate communion.
Feed us with the bread of life; nourish all our spiritual
powers; help us to find our delight in such things as please
Thee. Give us strength to fight the good fight of faith. Give us
holy courage, that we may not be daunted by any fear, or turn
aside from our appointed task. Make us calm when we have to
tread an unfamiliar road, and may Thy presence give us
companionship divine. Amen._
III
THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
"Having on the breastplate of righteousness." Ephesians 6:14.
This is counsel given to a little company of Christians, so little as
to be almost submerged and lost in the great unfriendly city of Ephesus,
so little as to be like a tiny boat in the midst of a vast and
threatening sea. A missionary of the gospel has been among them and they
have received the word of the Lord Jesus. They have answered the
constraint of redeeming love and they have confessed their faith in
Christ. And what has happened? Their confession has compelled their
separation from many of their old fellowships and attachments. They are
loosened from many of their old affections. The forces that were once
friendly to them have become unfriendly, and they are now confronted by
overwhelming hostilities on every side.
We must try to feel the power and peril of their isolation if we would
understand the force of the apostle's words. Imagine then the lot of
some German in Germany who espoused the cause of the Allies, or conceive
the lot of some Englishman in England who sided with Germany, and you
may realize the heat and fierceness of the antagonism with which these
immature Christians were surrounded in the city of Ephesus. But their
peril was not only found in the hostility of their old friends. There
was the enervating moral atmosphere which they had to breathe; there was
the recurring inclination of their own riotous passions; there was a
remnant of appetite for the old delights; and there was the nervous fear
that the forces against them might prove overwhelming.
What should they do? How should they be able to stand? And especially
how should they be able to stand in the evil day, the day when external
circumstances might culminate in some terrific assault, or when their
own passions might rise against them in some particularly fierce
resurgence? Well, this chapter records the counsel of a great and
experienced apostle, a mighty soldier of the Lord, in which he advises
these young recruits of the Kingdom what armour they must wear if they
would be victorious on the field. "Put on the whole armour of God." And
we are considering these noble pieces of armour if haply we too may
possess the equipment and so turn our days of battle into days of
glorious victory.
And now, in the name of the Lord Jesus, I bring you this piece of
armour, "the breastplate of righteousness," and it is to be worn in our
modern warfare in this difficult city of New York. What is this
breastplate of righteousness? What indeed was the Roman breastplate from
which the figure of speech is taken? Unfortunately, the word breastplate
is very inaccurate and misleading. The piece of armour to which the
apostle refers protected the back as well as the breast, and in addition
it gave protection to the neck and the hips. It would be much more truly
described by the phrase, "a coat of mail," because it was a sort of vest
made of small metal plates, overlapping one another like shield upon
shield, wrapping the body in its defences, and protecting the vital
organs, back and front, from every assault of the foe.
Let us then venture to lift this more accurate description into our
text, "Put on righteousness like a coat of mail, wear it in all your
comings and goings in the city of Ephesus, and in it meet all the
malicious antagonisms of devils and of men." Now I wonder how the
apostle's counsel affected these fearful struggling Christians in
Ephesus. Let us look at them. Let us assume that we are with them, and
that we are about to give them the counsel offered in the text. How will
they receive it? Remember that they have just been lifted out of the
horrible pit and out of the miry clay of long-continued sin, and that
they are oppressed by their own weakness and helplessness, and by the
strength of the evil inclinations and habits which they have just
renounced. Well, now, let us offer these inexperienced disciples the
apostle's counsel: "Put on righteousness like a coat of mail!" Why, they
just look at you in utter despair! It is their very weakness that they
cannot forge and weave such a coat of mail to cover them in the day of
battle. The counsel would surely seem like the taunting cry of the foe.
Suppose we had waylaid poor Christian in "The Pilgrim's Progress" when
he was struggling with his oppressive burden up the hill, and with the
fiery darts of the devil hurtling around him on every side, and suppose
we had called out to him, "Put on righteousness like a coat of mail!" We
should surely only have added heaviness to his burden and crushed him to
the ground in despair. "Put on righteousness like a coat of mail?" he
would have moaned in his reply, "My righteousness is like unto filthy
rags!"
One poor, sorrowful correspondent wrote to me some weeks ago who was
the victim of alcohol and drugs. For years he had walked in ways of
uncleanness, but he was now just waking from his awful sleep and turning
his thoughts toward home. Suppose now I had written to him and said "Put
on righteousness like a coat of mail!" I think his eyes would have
dulled into weariness again, and he would have slipped back to his drugs
and his despair. This cannot be the meaning of the apostle's counsel, or
this coat of mail would never be worn.
What, then, does the apostle mean when he says "Put on righteousness
like a coat of mail"? Let us seek for light in his own life, for he is a
soldier as well as a counsellor, and we shall find him following his own
advice and wearing the armour which he recommends to others. Let us
listen then to this word, and let us mark its significance; "Touching
the righteousness which is in the law I was found blameless." That seems
like an invincible protection. "Touching the righteousness which is in
the law I was found blameless!" But there was nothing invincible about
it. It was no more a coat of mail than an ordinary vest, and the devil
smote through the defences a dozen times a day.
Listen again to the apostle when he has passed into the intimate
friendship of Christ: "Not having a righteousness of mine own." Mark
that; yea verily mark that;--"Not having a righteousness of mine own."
This coat of mail he wears is not his own righteousness. Whose, then, is
it? It is the righteousness of Christ. As Paul declares: "It is the
righteousness which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness
which is of God by faith." The apostle is wearing the righteousness of
Christ, and he wears it like a coat of mail, covering back and front,
shielding him before and behind.
I want to pause a little there because we are very near one of the
deepest mysteries in the gospel of grace, and I want to state the
mystery as plainly as words can express it. This, then, is what the
Scriptures state: The Lord Jesus Christ was absolutely righteous, so
righteous that human imagination and human dream cannot conceive it
excelled. His holy obedience was perfect. There was no rent in the
vesture of His holiness. There was no frayed edge, there was no
imperfect strand, there were no stains. "In Him was no sin." We must
begin there.
And now let us assume that a poor penitent comes to this perfectly holy
Lord. Let us make the sinner as nauseous and repulsive as you please.
Let us make him a moral leper, the wretched victim of uncleanness,
befouled by his own habits, consumed in his own sin, eaten without and
within. That poor penitent sinner, laden with defilement, comes to the
holy Lord Jesus, humbly seeking His favour and grace.
Now what happens? What do the Scriptures tell us about the happening?
They tell us that the holy Saviour covers the sinner with the robe of
His own righteousness. The Lord puts His merits on to the sinner who has
no merits. He puts His obedience on to the sinner who has nothing but a
record of disobedience. He puts His spiritual conquests on to the sinner
who is torn and scarred by nothing but appalling defeats. He puts His
holiness on to a sinner who has been raked by defilements. That is the
proclamation of the gospel. That poor penitent believing sinner stands
now before the devil, and before men and angels, and before the presence
of God, clothed in the righteousness of Christ! What, in all his
imperfections? Yes. In all his weaknesses? Yes. With the scorching marks
of hell-fire still upon him? Yes. He is covered with the robe of
Christ's righteousness. He wears the merits and the strength and the
defences of the Lord's obedience. Have we not read of one who wrapped
himself in his country's flag and then dared an alien power to fire? It
is an altogether imperfect illustration, but it offers me some faint and
helpful analogy when I hear the saints give this witness: "He hath
clothed me with the robe of righteousness, and covered me with the
garments of salvation." No, it was not Paul's own righteousness which
constituted his coat of mail. It was the righteousness of his Lord.
Now, this is the word of grace, and this is the message of the gospel.
It is this of which Toplady sings in his immortal hymn--"Rock of Ages":
"Naked, look to Thee for dress."
It is this also of which Charles Wesley sings in his also immortal
hymn--"Jesus, Lover of my Soul":
"I am all unrighteousness,
Thou art full of truth and grace."
It is this which was discovered by George Fox, the founder of the
Society of Friends, and of which he tells us so rapturously in the early
pages of his journal. It was this which John Bunyan found, and of which
he tells us in the pages of "Grace Abounding": "One day, as I was
passing into the field, and that too with some dashes on my conscience,
suddenly this sentence fell upon my soul, 'Thy righteousness is in
heaven,' and me thought that I saw with the eyes of my soul, Jesus
Christ at God's right hand. There, I saw, was my righteousness; so that
wherever I was, or whatever I was doing, God could not say of me, He
wants my righteousness, for that was just before Him. I also saw,
moreover, that it was not my good frame of heart that made my
righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness
worse; for my righteousness was Jesus Christ Himself, the same
yesterday, to-day and forever. Now did my chains fall off my legs
indeed; I was loosened from my afflictions and irons.... Now went I also
home rejoicing for the grace and love of God." All these men, at the
beginning of their Christian life, were covered not with a righteousness
of their own, but with the righteousness of Christ, and they could sing
with Paul that they were clothed in the garments of His salvation. Their
coat of mail was the righteousness of Christ.
Now I recognize, and I experience the difficulty, of realizing all
this, and I sympathize with you in the poverty of our apprehension. But
I think our difficulty is in some ways occasioned by the inadequacy of
all figures of speech to convey to us the real vitality of the truth.
For instance, a coat of mail is something detached, separate and
external, and so is a robe, and they have no vital relation to the body
which wears them. And therefore, when we think of the righteousness of
Christ covering another like a robe or a coat of mail, it appears
something unreal, a superficial ministry, or even a fine pretence. We
think of some villain clothed in the garb of a minister, but all the
more a villain because of the robes which cover him. Or we think of some
vile woman wearing the habits of a nun, and all the more vile because of
the significant garments in which she is clothed. A leprous sinner
wearing the robe of Christ's righteousness! It all appears detached and
superficial, like a climbing rose hiding a rubbish heap, or some lovely
ferns and greenery concealing an open sewer. There appears no deep
reality in it,--a sinner just covered with the robe of Christ's
holiness, and wearing the Lord's righteousness as a coat of mail.
Yes, I admit that the figures all fail. The figure of a robe leaves the
sinner and the Saviour in no vital relation. And so it is with the coat
of mail. But in the blessed reality there is no detachment. There is
union between the sinner and the Saviour of the most profound and vital
kind. You must remember our assumption; the sinner who comes to the
Saviour comes in faith, and in penitence and in prayer, and these things
never leave a soul separate and detached from the life and love of the
Lord. Faith itself, even amid human relationships, is never a dividing
ministry; it always consolidates and unites. You may trace the vital
unifying influence of faith in a score of relations. The faith which a
patient has in a doctor is a minister of very vital union in every
effort to recover the lost genius of health. The faith which a pupil has
in a teacher unites the two in a very vital relation, and puts the pupil
into communion with the knowledge which is stored up in the teacher's
mind. The faith which one man has in another incorporates the two in
one. Faith always unifies; it never divides.