Taking up the Shield of Faith

also, the shield of His faithfulness

We are all caught up in this war, whether we think we signed up for it or not.

I am not talking politics and ideology, nor am I talking about the election, or the battle for our culture. I am talking about the battle for your soul and my soul, for your life and my life.

Thankfully, we are not left to fight this battle alone, nor are we left to fight it in a weak, defenseless state. We have been given impenetrable armor that will protect us if we will just put it on.

We have been given the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, the belt of truth, the shoes of readiness to share the gospel, the sword of the Spirit, and the shield of faith (Ephesians 6: 10-18).

Each of these pieces of armor merits time in thought and prayer. But I would like to talk specifically about the shield of faith, which scripture says will “extinguish the fiery darts of the evil one.”

Paul says, in his letter to the Ephesians, that we should take up the shield of faith “in all circumstances.”

So this means that, by implication, in any and every situation, from the spiritual to the mundane, I could be a recipient of a fiery dart from the evil one.

What does it feel like to be hit by a fiery dart?

I can't speak for everyone, but I will say from my own experience that, when you've been hit by a fiery dart, you're wounded in some inner place; you've lost your strength; you feel like crawling into a hole and hiding.

Alternatively, you're fighting mad at some person, place, thing, or institution; you're embroiled in some fight or controversy that seems like a bottomless pit of miscommunication; you've lost your peace and joy.

In both of these scenarios, the enemy you are dealing with is an unseen one. It is not your evil neighbor, your evil colleague, that evil person online, or even your own evil thoughts.

It is the evil ONE.

As in, the devil.

Some celebrate him, some disbelieve in him, or both; and/or, as is often the case, many follow him without realizing it.

He is the adversary of God, the adversary of the human race, the one who seeks whom he may devour. Disbelieve in him at your own peril!

As for those who do believe, we must take up the shield of faith in every circumstance to quench his fiery darts when they come.

These could be fears, anxieties, dark imaginings, discouragements, condemnations, harassments, torments. Things that make you want to give up, that make you want to engage in some harmful or illicit or addictive behavior, that make you want to die, that make you want to hurt yourself or someone else.

Scripture promises that the shield of faith will “quench” these.

Interestingly, there is a similar image in Psalm 91. “He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler” (Ps. 9:4).

This image seems as though it is less about my fighting and more about His protecting me; instead of a “shield of faith,” we have a “shield of his faithfulness.”

I think that they are one and the same.

Those of us who come from a charismatic tradition (or a charismatic un-tradition, if you prefer) may think of faith as something we muster up, something that involves a lot of shouting. (I am not opposed to shouting, by the way).

Conversely, those who are non- or post-charismatic may conveniently forget that “without faith, it is impossible to please God” (Hebrews 11:6).

Often when I look at the kind of faith in scripture that pleases God, I find it surprising: presumptuous, almost. It goes against my own cautious, somewhat pessimistic temperament.

Here are a few examples:

Joshua and Caleb, after viewing a Promised Land full of giants, are confident that they can prevail against them, with God's help, though the other ten scouts said “there's no way” (Numbers 13-14).

David is certain that, because he has God's favor, he can defeat a man much larger, stronger, and more experienced than he in battle (I Samuel 17).

Mary, the mother of Jesus, gives her “yes” to God, though she might reasonably fear shaming, shunning, or the loss of her fiance (or worse!) (Luke 1).

Many sick and desperate people dare to seek the healing touch of Jesus, risking shattering disappointment or humiliation.

The thief on the cross, a man who knows he is a sinner, has the audacity to ask Jesus to remember him in His kingdom. Jesus' response: “Surely, you will be with me today in paradise” (Luke 22:29-43).

I think that if I were God, I would prefer more moderated expectations. At least, I would prefer more nuanced requests. The thief on the cross, for instance, should have prefaced his request with a bit more groveling and self-deprecation. “I know I don’t deserve this. I know I’ve been a rotten, poor excuse for a human being. But…Jesus…if you happen to have any vacancy in your kingdom…Perhaps you need a chimney sweep…or maybe a shoe-shine boy...” Caleb, I feel, was a bit too cocksure. He should have had a touch of humility, of healthy self-doubt. More like The Little Engine that Could: “I think I can… I think I can…”

As for David…what on earth was he thinking??

But I cannot ignore the witness of scripture: God is pleased with childlike, trusting, confident faith in His faithfulness.

Fortunately, He sympathizes with those of us whose faith is weak. He does not censure the man who says “I believe; help my unbelief” (Matt. 9:23-25).

He doesn't tell us that a mountain-sized faith will move a mustard seed; He says that a mustard-seed-sized faith will move a mountain (Matt. 17:20).

Remembering His goodness in times past, countering the suggestions of the evil one with God's words, casting our cares on Him, and simply asking—like a child—for the things we need, are all ways that we can take up the shield of faith when the fiery arrows are flying.

(And a bit of shouting never hurt anyone.)