This is the beginning of a 7 part series based on Ephesians 6. I've read the passage about the armor of God in Ephesians dozens of times. I've quoted it, studied it, even taught it. But this time, something stopped me cold: the soldier himself.
Why did Paul choose a Roman soldier as his metaphor? The question seemed simple at first, but as I sat with it, I realized I'd been missing something fundamental along the way. I'd been so focused on cataloging the armor—belt, breastplate, shoes, shield, helmet, sword—that I'd never truly considered the figure wearing it.
A Roman soldier in first-century Ephesus would have been an intimidating presence. Picture him: walking the crowded streets in full armor, the metal catching sunlight, his footsteps deliberate and unhurried. He represented power, authority, and the ever-present reach of Rome. In our modern world, we might see a fully equipped soldier occasionally, perhaps at an airport or government building, and feel that same sense of gravity. But for the Ephesians, this wasn't an occasional sight—it was daily life. These soldiers patrolled their streets, enforced their laws, reminded them constantly of who held power.
I try to imagine what it would have been like to live in biblical times, to walk those ancient streets of Ephesus. The city was in turmoil, dominated by the cult of Artemis, one of the most powerful religious forces in the ancient world. To be a Christian there meant living under constant threat of persecution. Your beliefs could cost you your livelihood, your reputation, even your life. And there, in the midst of this spiritual battlefield, stood the Roman soldier—an intimidating figure ready to take any action necessary to enforce the rules of the land.
This is the image Paul chose. Not a peaceful shepherd. Not a gentle teacher. A soldier.
It struck me then how casually I've passed by this passage over the years. I've treated it like a checklist, a spiritual to-do list: put on righteousness, check; take up faith, check; grab the sword of the Spirit, check. But Paul wasn't giving us a checklist. He was painting a portrait of what it means to stand firm in a hostile world. He was telling persecuted believers that they needed to be just as prepared, just as equipped, just as ready as those soldiers who walked their streets.
The difference, of course, is in what we're fighting for and how we fight. The Roman soldier enforced earthly power through intimidation and force. But the armor of God? It transforms us into something entirely different. We become soldiers of peace, warriors of truth, defenders of faith—not through violence, but through the power of the Spirit working in and through us.
This time, I've decided, I will not casually pass by this passage. I want to sit with it. To ponder it over the coming days. To take it piece by piece—intentionally, prayerfully—allowing the Holy Spirit to speak to me through the God breathed words. The belt of truth. The breastplate of righteousness. The shoes of the gospel of peace. The shield of faith. The helmet of salvation. The sword of the Spirit.
Each piece has something to teach me that I haven't fully learned yet. Each element of the armor represents not just protection, but transformation. Not just defense, but identity.
I'm inviting you to come along with me on this journey. Perhaps you, like me, have read this passage many times without letting it truly sink in. Perhaps you've seen the armor as metaphor rather than as invitation—an invitation to become someone different, someone stronger, someone ready to stand firm when the world feels chaotic and threatening.
We may not face Roman soldiers in our streets, but we face battles of our own. Battles for truth in a world of confusion. Battles for faith in times of doubt. Battles for peace when everything around us screams for division.
The question isn't whether we need armor. The question is whether we're willing to put it on, piece by piece, and discover what the Holy Spirit has to say to us on this portion of our journey as disciples of Christ.
I don't know what He'll reveal to you. But I'm eager to find out what He'll show me—and I'm no longer content to walk past the soldier without stopping to truly see him.
