Thoughts on the Church Militant

C.S. Lewis understood better than most the spiritual warfare that rages, unseen for the most part, around all human beings.

And, as veterans of the bloody trenches of the First World War, Lewis and his good friend J.R.R. Tolkien had learned more than they desired about the tactics and sheer violence of combat.

Many of those wartime lessons translated directly into a spiritual context. However, I recently realized how poorly the concept of immobile trenches relates to our challenge to take up our crosses and follow our Savior.

You see, the Christian life is many things, but there is one thing discipleship never is – static. As theologian Tilemann Heshusius (1527-1588) wrote: “Christian soldiers always either advance or retreat.”

In battle there is nearly always an ebb and a flow, as forces advance on one front and temporarily shift back on another. In his essay “The World’s Last Night,” C.S. Lewis observes “In battle men save their lives sometimes by advancing and sometimes by retreating.” The same is true for the Christian life in general. We are either advancing, or falling back. Our relationship with God is not stagnant.

The New Testament includes many military metaphors and allusions, intended to equip us for victory in our spiritual battles.

The Apostle Paul refers to believers as “fellow soldiers.” In a letter to a young pastor, he extols the model of the soldier, who keeps his focus on the mission.

Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him.

Then there is the familiar passage which uses the image of the “whole armor of God” to describe in detail how Christians are to be prepared for faithful service. You can read the entire passage here.

These military accoutrements are necessary because “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12).

This is the reason one aspect of the Christian Church’s nature has been described as the “Church Militant.” This describes the Church battling evil while awaiting Christ’s return, for the Final Judgment, when it will become the “Church Triumphant.” The former is the context for familiar hymns such as “Onward Christian Soldiers,” composed by a prolific Anglican priest in the nineteenth century.

Onward, Christian soldiers,
   marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
   going on before!

Christ, the royal Master,
leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,
see his banner go!
     . . .

At the sign of triumph
   Satan’s host doth flee;
On, then, Christian soldiers,
   on to victory!

Hell’s foundations quiver
   at the shout of praise;
Brothers, lift your voices,
   loud your anthems raise.

The WWI trenches are the archetype of static, immobile frontlines. Disease festered, and morale decayed like the muck sucking at the soldiers’ boots. As recognized by sixteenth century theologians and C.S. Lewis alike, wars are rarely won simply by maintaining a defensive position. Movement is an essential element of warfare.

Hopefully more of that movement consists of advances against the enemy, than retreats. But we will consider that aspect of spiritual war in our next post.

Until Then

Those interested in learning more about military strategy, particularly as explored by another veteran of the War to End All Wars, Sir B.H. Liddell Hart,* like Lewis and Tolkien, returned home to Britain from the front lines, as a casualty. (Britannica states more than a third of the British forces became casualties, in contrast to 76% of Russians, 73% of French, and 8% of Americans.)

Liddell Hart’s wisdom extends beyond the battlefield itself.

The downfall of civilized states tends to come not from the direct assaults of foes, but from internal decay combined with the consequences of exhaustion in war (“The Objective in War,” a lecture delivered in 1952 to the United States Naval War College).


* Sir Basil Henry Liddell Hart (1895-1970) was a military historian and theoretician. A number of his works are in the public domain and available for free download from Internet Archives. These include A Greater than Napoleon, Scipio Africanus and Why Don’t We Learn from History?

Theological Training

I’m proud I graduated from a well-respected seminary. And I’m proud of following that Master of Divinity degree with an advanced Master of Theology degree in Patristics. And that’s precisely the problem . . . I’m proud.

As a Christian, I recognize that pride is one of the most destructive and insidious sins. As a pastor and chaplain, I have seen all too frequently how pride expressly targets members of the clergy. Our vulnerability to the temptation to be proud is one of the common chinks in the armor of the ordained.

C.S. Lewis recognized this fact. In A Severe Mercy, he wrote:

I think there is a great deal to be said for having one’s deepest spiritual interest distinct from one’s ordinary duty as a student or professional man. St. Paul’s job was tent-making. When the two coincide I shd. have thought there was a danger lest the natural interest in one’s job and the pleasures of gratified ambition might be mistaken for spiritual progress and spiritual consolation; and I think clergymen sometimes fall into this trap. . . .

In fact, the change [to a Christian ministry] might do good or harm. I’ve always been glad myself that Theology is not the thing I earn my living by. On the whole, I’d advise you to get on with your tent-making. The performance of a duty will probably teach you quite as much about God as academic Theology wd. do. Mind, I’m not certain: but that is the view I incline to.

Lewis understood that “advancement” in ecclesiastical contexts can mask the inner heart and be mistaken as a form of holiness when it is in actuality vanity. I was reminded of this weakness in clerical armor recently, when I read a tribute to a Chinese Christian whose name is little known beyond his homeland. Dr. Sun Yi-yin, known in America as “Freddie Sun,” died in August at the age of 76. A professor of Geology, he lost his faculty position for failing to deny Christ.

Like thousands of other Christians living under the atheist regime, he was imprisoned for his work in establishing churches and Bible schools. He raised the funds to start no fewer than 154 of these training centers, and was key to the equipping of approximately 60,000 underground pastors and teachers. The “underground” Church in China is distinguished from the government-controlled “Three-Self Patriotic Movement.”

For his labors, Sun endured a decade in a Chinese labor camp. (His wife, Dorothy Chang, was also imprisoned. Rather than reducing his faith, during his sojourn in the harshest of conditions, Sun experienced a personal revival and his zeal increased.

His story is amazing, but here is the aspect that hit the mark in the center of my conscience. In his autobiography, The Man in the Fiery Furnace, Sun described his imprisonment as his “seminary” experience: “Instead of learning homiletics, hermeneutics, Greek, and Hebrew, I was being taught the greater lessons of obedience, submission, forgiveness, love, endurance, and patience.”

Now, I am grateful that God has preserved me from the “fiery furnace,” but I do long to experience the fruit of the spirit that Sun so richly harvested in prison. While not dismissing the importance of the classical subjects of homiletics and hermeneutics, as the Apostle says, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” (I Corinthians 13:1-3, ESV).

In The Problem of Pain, Lewis’ treatise on suffering, he addresses how God can redeem terrible things such as unjust punishments. For those desiring to understand how an omnipotent God can allow evil to occur, Lewis’ presentation is quite helpful. And, the life example of Dr. Sun provides a superb example of its validity.

I advance six propositions necessary to complete our account of human suffering which do not arise out of one another and must therefore be given in an arbitrary order. 1. There is a paradox about tribulation in Christianity. Blessed are the poor, but by ‘judgement’ (i.e., social justice) and alms we are to remove poverty wherever possible. Blessed are we when persecuted, but we may avoid persecution by flying from city to city, and may pray to be spared it, as Our Lord prayed in Gethsemane.

But if suffering is good, ought it not to be pursued rather than avoided? I answer that suffering is not good in itself. What is good in any painful experience is, for the sufferer, his submission to the will of God, and, for the spectators, the compassion aroused and the acts of mercy to which it leads. In the fallen and partially redeemed universe we may distinguish (1) the simple good descending from God, (2) the simple evil produced by rebellious creatures, and (3) the exploitation of that evil by God for His redemptive purpose, which produces (4) the complex good to which accepted suffering and repented sin contribute.

Now the fact that God can make complex good out of simple evil does not excuse—though by mercy it may save—those who do the simple evil. And this distinction is central. Offences must come, but woe to those by whom they come; sins do cause grace to abound, but we must not make that an excuse for continuing to sin. The crucifixion itself is the best, as well as the worst, of all historical events, but the role of Judas remains simply evil.

I thank God for the life and testimony of Sun. I pray God will reap an abundance of believers in China, and elsewhere, due to his faithfulness. And I thank God for using Sun’s words to cause me to stop in the midst of my busy activities and take the time to examine my own heart and motives.

Military Helmets

War is deadly business. And, if a kingdom or nation hopes to emerge victorious, they are wise to equip their soldiers properly. That’s why this fact, included in today’s Ripley’s Believe It or Not comic, is so shocking.

It’s inconceivable that as the world marched to war in 1914, not a single one of the world powers equipped their troops with steel helmets. Elegant helms that looked superb on the parade ground . . . yes. Elaborate crests that exaggerated height to intimidate the foe . . . of course. Comfortable fabrics that kept the scorching sun off of the scalp . . . certainly.

But steel helmets that might actually spare men from bullet and shrapnel wounds . . . not those.

It’s not like the danger of ballistic wounds caught the Europeans off guard. Muskets had given way to deadly rifles long before. Artillery had advanced to the point where the Germans actually built not one, but two unique weapons: (1) Big Bertha, a huge howitzer that lobbed an eighteen hundred pound shell nearly eight miles, and (2) the Paris Gun, a siege cannon able to fire its shell eighty miles!

As soldiers like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien rallied to the flag and fought the Huns, they would eventually be issued more protective equipment. But it didn’t exist at the war’s outset. And even with it, Lewis was severely wounded in combat. in 1939 he wrote, “My memories of the last war haunted my dreams for years.”

The irony about metal helmets is that even ancient peoples recognized the importance of protecting the skulls of their warriors with the strongest materials available. In my office I have a replica Roman legionary helmet. Trust me, it was capable of saving lives.

Today’s combat helmets are highly advanced, and great effort is made to protect military members from head trauma. Sending them into battle with anything less than the best equipment available should be a crime.