Introduction

Almost thirty years ago I sat in a doctoral seminar on Ephesians and heard the professor in charge and say that the problem with Ephesians is its “triumphalism.” He pointed out that in the other letters of Paul the church is wrestling with a host of very human problems—worship issues in 1Corinthians, eating meats dedicated to Greek and Roman deities, debates over the Jewish law in Galatians and Romans, problems with leadership in Philippians. But, he said, Ephesians gives us a church already lifted out of this world, seated with Christ in the heavenly realms, not a this-worldly congregation, in fact, not a church, but the Church, a cosmic body sharing Christ’s victory over all the enemies of God.

I disagreed with him then, and I disagree with him still more today, but I understand, at least partially, where he was coming from. It’s not until the end of the letter that Paul puts all the pieces together and put them into proper perspective. The text we have read is something like a Roman general’s speech to the troops before they go off to battle. Now, if all you had were chapters 1-3, you might think there really wasn’t any battle to fight. You might agree with my former professor. The battle has already been won. Christ has already been “seated in the heavenly places, far above every rule and lordship and authority and power in this age and the age to come” (1:21); moreover, the church is intended to be God’s great demonstration project to show the whole universe what it looks like to be in union with Christ—that Christ is “our peace” (2:14) and that he has reconciled people both to God and to each other by means of the cross. Sounds like a declaration of victory.

But chapters 4-5 brought us back down to earth and warned against all kinds of wrong behaviors and ways of life that are still very much part of the world we live in, and, all too often, part of our own lives. The transitional text, 4:1, which encourages believers to “walk worthily of your calling,” leads to a discussion of the “unworthy” ways of living and drags us down into the muck and mire of life that it self-centered, driven by passion, and greed, and forgetfulness of God. Then we understand that Ephesians offers us no pollyanna view of life. After all, this author and these readers lived in the Roman world of the first century. Despite all its advantages, such as a good road system and a long period without major wars, this was a world with a terrible class system, into which you were born and could never escape, crowded living conditions in the big cities, a third of the population in slavery; a place in which unwanted newborn children could be discarded on the outskirts of the town, to be “rescued” by people who reared them up as prostitutes or slaves.

So 6:10-20 are here to remind us that, as Christians, we live in a kind of inbetween time. Christ has proved himself victorious over the powers of death, and has granted believers a share in his victory, but not all the powers have laid down their weapons. In other words, “D-Day” is behind us, but “V-Day” is still ahead of us. We are living in the overlap between two ages. If our life in Christ has any vitality at all, we really have, as the writer of Hebrews says, “tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come,” (6:4) but we must still live out our human existence in this age. And Paul frankly acknowledges that there are enemies of the church and God’s plan for it.

Verses 10-13 tell us about the enemy. But the very first statement is a reminder that the church does not rely on its own power, but on the power of God: “Be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might.” It is almost impossible to read this text without thinking of Martin Luther’s great hymn, A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” Three times we find the challenge “stand,” that is, remain firm and unyielding in the face of opposition (11, 13, 14). All three times our standing is based on what God supplies, what is twice called “the whole armor of God.” He says “gird yourself for the struggle to come,” because it is more than a wrestling match such as they might see in one of the great Roman arenas (6:12).

What they must struggle against involves all those spiritual powers he spoke about earlier in the letter—“the adversary (translation of “diabolos,” “devil”), who is represented by the “rulers, authorities, the “cosmic powers of this darkness,” the“spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Now, what are we to make of such an army, arrayed against the church Who are these beings? Can you see their troops, listen in to their high councils planning or plotting the war? How can you defend yourself against what you cannot see? How can we understand this language? I said in the first lecture that where you and I look up at the sky and see the sun and moon and stars, almost all ancient peoples saw the dwelling places of all kinds of spiritual beings: angels and archangels, gods and goddesses almost without number, some benevolent, others malevolent. Ancient peoples were terribly interested in the celestial phenomena; the stars determined their fates. When Julius Caesar was born a comet was seen. This was thought to be a good omen, and so, after he became emperor, he issued coins showing on one side a comet.

People of Paul’s day used these terms (“principalities, powers, rulers of the darkness,” and so on) to refer to them. The question is: Do you and I have to buy into this view of reality in order to appropriate the language of Ephesians for our own times? I have three things to say about this: (1) We do not have to believe that the very planets and stars in the solar system are inhabited by gods and goddesses or other divine beings; that they are “up there” where the space shuttle goes. (2) Often, when the biblical writers use this language, it is a metaphor or analogy for something God is doing in the world of visible reality. Example: Isa. 14:12-20 recounts a very ancient story about a planet we know as “Venus,” but the Hebrews called “bright shiner,” or “son of the dawn.” According to the story, this star-god wanted to make himself king by climbing the mountains surrounding the heavenly city where the sun-god, the supreme god, lived. Now the biblical writer uses the outline of this ancient story as a metaphor for what? Well, he makes it quite clear that he is talking about the king of Babylon (Isa 13), who had tried to dominate the world (see 14:3-4). Thus, he uses the old myth to compare the king of Babylon to all the powers who have rebelled against the authority of God, and to show that he will not succeed. (3) I think this is the best way for us to appropriate the language of the “powers” here in Ephesians and elsewhere. I do believe there are unseen spiritual powers opposed to the work of God, but that they operate chiefly by means of human power structures we see every day. We see their effects in almost every human institution or system. Any system--- government, corporations, labor unions, the criminal justice system—in short, any institution that is huge and powerful, can fall under the dominion of the dark powers, just as any individual can. My friend Charles Taber, a great missiologist, put it this way in an address on God’s Mission to America: “. . .at the end of the twentieth century (and, I should add, at the beginning of the twenty-first) we are a society which worships many gods, among them Mars, the god of national security and power; Mammon, the god of wealth; Prometheus, the god of autonomous science and technology; Dionysos, the god of self-endulgence and excess; Eros, the god of sexuality; and of course, Ego, the little god which is myself.”

Human institutions, human systems, even though ordained by God to do good in this world, can themselves become fallen. Think of that ancient economic system known as slavery. For 250 years slavery was so woven into the fabric of the economic system of this country, especially in the south, that even good people, well-meaning people such as Thomas Jefferson could not bring themselves to do away with it. I have read that Enron had a great mission statement, which did not include any phrases about corporate officials manipulating the stock market to make multimillion dollars at the expense of the little people. The point is that the church has to be in continual conflict with any system, or power, or person that would try to thwart God’s plan to bring all things together under the peaceful sovereignty of Christ.

The Armor. So, how do we stand firm and resist? (vv. 14-17). There are probably two sources for the imagery of these verses: (1) Paul’s own knowledge of the equipment of an ordinary Roman soldier, such as those who guarded him in prison; (2) texts from the OT, which describe God himself or God’s agents as being armed for battle. I don’t know that it is terribly profitable to go through the actual pieces of armor and cite the OT texts that suggest them, although I can do this. What I find far more important, and somewhat surprising, is that armor is defensive equipment, not offensive. It is for standing firm against an enemy on the attack. And look what the church is given to defend itself and the purposes of God: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness or justice, the shoes that serve as equipment for conveying the gospel of peace; the shield of faith, and the helmet of salvation. In fact all these great terms, “truth,” “justice”, “peace,” and “salvation” have been important in the earlier development of this letter (see, in this order, 1:12; 4:15; 4:24; 2:14-18; 2:8; 4:5; 1:13). What a strange notion that by telling and living out the truth, by acting justly toward everyone, by doing the things that make for peace, by trusting in God, and by reminding ourselves that is is God’s grace that saves us that we can stand against the powers of deception, and injustice, and conflict, and mistrust, and lostness.

What kind of army is this? No horses, no chariots, no spears or battle axes, no flaming arrows. The enemy has all that stuff, and here’s the church, just standing there in some rather light armor. Will Paul’s advice work? A person could get killed this way. We can’t know whether it will really work until we make it a life commitment. Unfortunately, operating defensively goes against our natural inclinations; we would rather go on the offensive.

In this whole long list there is only one piece of offensive equipment: namely the sword that is associated with the Spirit. And what does one do with that sword? What does it stand for? The expression, “word of God” that is used here does not refer to the written word, the Bible. Rather, it means the spoken word, the proclamation of the good news of peace. This is that “one little word” that Luther speaks of in the second verse of his great hymn: “And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,/ we will not fail, for God has willed His truth to triumph through us./ The prince of darkness grim, we tremble not for him;/ his rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure;/ One little word shall fell him.”

It is very important to realize that not one of these pieces of equipment is a personal virtue that we can develop on our own.

They all come from God’s own armory. God alone can equip the church for its continual conflict. But there is one thing we can do and must do in the exercise of all these pieces of equipment. We can employ the unseen, but powerful weapon, the stealth weapon of prayer.

Our Secret Weapon (18-20) It is fitting in a letter so bathed in prayer language that P. winds up where he began: with a reference to prayer. But this time it is not the prayer that breaks forth in blessing to God for all he has done. Instead, it is the prayer of petition. It is described as prayer “in the Spirit.” I take it this means with a constant openness to the Holy Spirit’s presence and power. Look—We do not know how prayer “works.” We do know that sometimes there comes, all unbidden, across our minds the thought of some absent friend. If we are wise, we will pray for that person, who may just at that moment especially need our prayers. C.S. Lewis mentions in one of books that he once went to his local barbership and sat down in the chair, and the barber said “I have been praying that you would come today.” Think of all the saints you know who may be facing far more difficult battles against the “principalities and powers” than you are. Maybe they are serving on corporate boards, or as judges, or police officers, as my son is, or even just school principals. Some of them face decisions in their work that I never confront in my job (although I have discovered that the dark powers can operate even in a seminary—and in a church).

Conclusion

Sometimes we really do not know quite what we ought to pray. It is of more than passing interest that Paul does not ask for his readers to pray for his release from prison, but only to be allowed to declare the gospel where he is. Surely no clearer example could be given of what this book is about. Being saved and raised up with Christ does not mean being snatched out of the continuing struggle against the world, the flesh, and the devil. The church is and will be for some time, in continual conflict. Our prayer ought to be that we may be enabled to live out the truth of the good news faithfully and boldly. Maybe it is best to go finally, to the last stanza of Martin Luther’s hymn: “That word, above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth./ The Spirit and the gifts are ours through him, who with us sideth./ Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also; the body they may kill. God’s truth abideth still./ His kingdom is forever.” Amen.