Recently, my church did a series on the armour of God. Each week, while the adults listened to sermons about helmets, shields, and belts of truth, the children were in the back room, learning about the same things, with each session culminating in a craft activity.
The armour of God lends itself well to hands-on creativity – it’s easy to visualise and create something tactile. Every Sunday, as parents picked up their kids, the little ones would come charging into the room, proudly showing off their decorated shields, their sturdy belts, their shiny helmets.
And then there were the swords.
At home group last week, a friend reached up to the top of a bookshelf and brought down two slightly battered, very well-loved cardboard swords. Her boys had made them the week they learned about the Word of God as the Sword of the Spirit.
They had been confiscated, of course. Because, as you’ve probably already guessed, they had been using them to poke each other. Repeatedly. With great enthusiasm. Of course they had. So the swords were placed up high, out of reacch, because when wielded carelessly, even a cardboard sword can do some damage.
And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Because isn’t that just like us? How often do we use the Word of God the same way? Not to bring life, but to poke at each other. To score points. To win arguments. To prove our own perspective while conveniently ignoring the parts that challenge us.
I’ve seen it in the Church. I’ve been on the receiving end of it. And if I’m honest, I’ve done it too. We all have. It’s so easy to grab a verse that supports our point of view and swing it around, without stopping to consider the weight of it or the wounds it might leave behind.
There’s a line in a song I wrote recently that I haven’t recorded yet:
You choose the verse to fit your view
Ignore the parts that challenge you.
I think that’s the temptation for all of us. To treat Scripture like a buffet. Picking and choosing what fits our existing beliefs, rather than allowing it to shape and transform us, but the Sword of the Spirit was never meant to be a weapon against our brothers and sisters. It was meant to be a light in the darkness. A truth that sets us free. A word that brings healing, not harm.
I pray we learn to use it that way. To wield it with wisdom, humility, and love. To fight the real battles—the ones against fear, injustice, and the lies that tell us we are anything less than beloved.
And maybe we’ll start keeping our swords on the shelf a little more often.
Photo by Ricardo Cruz on Unsplash