Heavy Armor

14th Sunday after Pentecost
August 26, 2018

¹⁰Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of the Lord’s power. ¹¹Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. ¹²For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. ¹³Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. ¹⁴Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. ¹⁵As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. ¹⁶With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. ¹⁷Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
  ¹⁸Pray in the Spirit at all times in every prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert and always persevere in supplication for all the saints. ¹⁹Pray also for me, so that when I speak, a message may be given to me to make known with boldness the mystery of the gospel, ²⁰for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it boldly, as I must speak. – Ephesians 6:10-20

A suit of medieval armor weighs anywhere from 25 pounds for a simple chain-mail shirt up to as much as 110 pounds for a full-on suit of armor.

A modern foot soldier in Afghanistan wears an average 63 pounds of gear and armor to do his or her duty.

And a firefighter’s gear for going into a fire weighs somewhere around 45 pounds and in certain cases as much as 75 pounds.

These people past and present have managed to accomplish a great deal while being weighed down under their protective armor, but when I hear those numbers I want to crumple under the weight, just thinking about it. I imagine trying to move about, especially in a suit of rigid metal like a medieval knight, and I can only imagine mustering a few stiff, awkward movements.

It’s that image and that feeling of weight that comes to mind as I read the description of the full armor of God in our Ephesians reading today. Of course I stand for truth and righteousness and faith that this armor is supposed to represent. Of course I covet the sense of protection that armor brings. But my experience in the world is one of bearing the heavy weight of all those things, that it’s hard and sometimes challenging work to wear that armor. On top of all the other weight we carry around, I find myself crumpling under the thought.

Because already I am weighed down by the endless violence that takes place around the world. With admiration for those who have been willing to risk their lives for their country, I worry about the way in which all around the world we have become used to solving our problems with the violence of endless wars. I worry about the way in which we are so used to it that we cease to pay attention to the catastrophic war taking place in the Congo, the ongoing devastation in Syria, the perpetuation of conflict in Afghanistan. Collectively we put on the heavy armor of battle, trusting in the power of violence to save us.

And we can get weighed down by all the walls we try to put up to keep us from people who are different from us. We put up defensive walls, literal and metaphorical, to protect us from people we perceive to be other. People whose skin is a different color, whose primary language is different from our own, whose socioeconomic status is different from ours. It’s hard work to bridge differences, and as heavy as they can be, putting up walls and defenses are often easier. I sometimes let myself take that easy road and end up walled in and weighed down in my own little bubble.

And I worry that we even wear our faith in ways that weigh us down. Sometimes we wear our religious practice as a shield against the world. Or we put our trust in the protection we think will come by believing the right things or doing the right things. I have sometimes been guilty of reading this passage from Ephesians as yet another thing we need to do. We better make sure we tell the truth perfectly, live righteously always, proclaim perfectly a gospel of peace, and maintain faith free of doubt. If we can do all that then we have kept up the armor, and we have defended ourselves from the forces of evil, all the things that threaten to tear us down. While our faith does and should call us to transformed living and challenging work, we can easily weigh ourselves down with the burden of saving ourselves and the world. Wearing that kind of armor causes us to lose the flexibility and freedom that Christ offers us. And it isn’t the kind of armor that saves us.

This passage is describing something quite different from this heavy armor we too often try to put on and clumsily wear around. The kind of protection God gives from the world isn’t in the form of chain mail shirts or Kevlar vests. It’s more like the waters of baptism. Rather than a heavy metal suit, which weighs us down and walls us off, imagine a fluid watery covering that surrounds us in the promises of God. In baptism we put on Christ – the truth, the righteousness, the peace, the faith of Christ. Forever after we wear that watery garment, which reminds us against all the evil we encounter, against all the powers that rebel against God, against all the forces within us and beyond us that threaten to tear us down, that God’s love is stronger than anything.

Unlike metal armor, this watery protection is permeable. It flows and allows us to give and receive. But because it assures us that God’s love is stronger even than death it allows us to be vulnerable to the world in ways that open us to both the love and the pain around us. It allows us to care for others and to take in the care of others. It keeps us connected rather than walling us off. And in its permeability and transparency it manages to remind us of the ways in which our trust in weapons and armies, our trust in walls and armor, our trust in our own power is so much weaker than we realize in comparison to the incredible power of unlimited love and grace.

Unlike metal armor it is flexible and mobile. It allows us to let go of the rigidity with which we so often approach things, to let go of the ways in which we can be afraid of and anxious about change and things that are new. It allows us as people and as the church to adapt to new ways of God’s love being shared in the world. It washes away what needs to be cleansed and carries forward into the future what is needed for new life and growth.

And though water is actually quite heavy, unlike metal armor is has the capacity to lift us up. To float us forward. To carry us through all those other things that make us weary and leave us crumbling under the weight of the world. This watery armor carries us from the font to the grave and into God’s life forever always holding us in that love that knows no bounds.

So you who are baptized and you who long for the waters of baptism, feel the full armor of God washing over you, lifting you up, connecting you to the source of all life. Feel the power of God’s love forever surrounding you. Know the power of God’s having claimed you and called you beloved. Know that protection now and always.

-Pastor Steven Wilco