The Text
A Warfare Greater Than Any War of Nations
There is a warfare of far greater importance than any war that was ever waged by man. It is a warfare that concerns not two or three nations only, but every Christian man and woman born into the world. The warfare I speak of is spiritual warfare. It is the fight that everyone who would be saved must fight about his soul.
This warfare, I am aware, is a thing of which many know nothing. Talk to them about it, and they are ready to set you down as a madman, an enthusiast, or a fool. And yet it is as real and true as any war the world has ever seen. It has hand-to-hand conflicts and wounds. It has watchings and fatigues. It has sieges and assaults. It has victories and defeats. Above all, it has consequences that are awful, tremendous, and most peculiar. In earthly warfare, the consequences to nations are often temporary and remediable. In spiritual warfare, it is very different. The consequences of that warfare, when the fight is over, are unchangeable and eternal.
He that would understand the nature of true holiness must know that the Christian is a man of war. If we would be holy, we must fight.
True Christianity Is a Fight
True Christianity! Let us mind that word true. There is a vast quantity of religion current in the world that is not true, genuine Christianity. It passes muster; it satisfies sleepy consciences; but it is not good money. It is not the real thing that was called Christianity eighteen hundred years ago. There are thousands of men and women who go to churches and chapels every Sunday and call themselves Christians. Their names are in the baptismal register. They are reckoned Christians while they live. They are married with a Christian marriage service. They mean to be buried as Christians when they die. But you never see any “fight” about their religion. Spiritual strife, exertion, conflict, self-denial, watchfulness, or warfare — they know literally nothing at all. Such Christianity may satisfy man, and those who say anything against it may be thought very hard and uncharitable; but it certainly is not the Christianity of the Bible. It is not the religion that the Lord Jesus founded, and His apostles preached. It is not the religion that produces real holiness.
True Christianity is a fight. The true Christian is called to be a soldier and must behave as such from the day of his conversion to the day of his death. He is not meant to live a life of religious ease, indolence, and security. He must never imagine for a moment that he can sleep and doze along the way to heaven, like one travelling in an easy carriage.
With Whom Does the Christian Fight?
Not with other Christians. Wretched indeed is that man’s idea of religion who fancies that it consists in perpetual controversy. He who is never satisfied unless he is engaged in some strife between church and church, chapel and chapel, sect and sect, faction and faction knows nothing yet as he ought to know. The cause of sin is never so much helped as when Christians waste their strength in quarrelling with one another.
No — the principal fight of the Christian is with the world, the flesh, and the devil. These are his never-dying foes. These are the three chief enemies against whom he must wage war. Unless he gets the victory over these three, all other victories are useless and vain.
He must fight the flesh. Even after conversion, he carries within him a nature prone to evil and a heart weak and unstable as water. That heart will never be free from imperfection in this world. The spirit may be ready, but the flesh is weak. There is need for daily struggle and daily wrestling in prayer. “I keep under my body,” cries Paul, “and bring it into subjection” (1 Cor. 9:27). “They that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts” (Gal. 5:24). “Mortify therefore your members which are upon the earth” (Col. 3:5).
He must fight the world. The subtle influence of that mighty enemy must be daily resisted and, without a daily battle, can never be overcome. The love of the world’s good things — the fear of the world’s laughter or blame — the secret desire to keep in with the world — the secret wish to do as others in the world do and not to run into extremes — all these are spiritual foes that beset the Christian continually on his way to heaven. “Friendship of the world is enmity with God… whosoever therefore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of God” (James 4:4). “Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world” (1 John 5:4).
He must fight the devil. That old enemy of mankind is not dead. Ever since the fall of Adam and Eve, he has been going to and fro in the earth and striving to compass one great end — the ruin of man’s soul. Never slumbering and never sleeping, he is always going about as a lion “seeking whom he may devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). An unseen enemy, he is always near us, about our path and about our bed, and spying out all our ways. Sometimes by leading into superstition, sometimes by suggesting infidelity, sometimes by one kind of tactic and sometimes by another, he is always carrying on a campaign against our souls. This mighty adversary must be daily resisted if we wish to be saved. “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Eph. 6:11).
The Absolute Necessity of the Fight
Some men may think these statements too strong. You fancy that I am going too far and laying on the colours too thickly. You are secretly saying to yourself that men and women may surely get to heaven without all this trouble, warfare, and fighting. Remember the maxim of the Duke of Wellington: “In time of war, it is the worst mistake to underrate your enemy, and try to make a little war.” This Christian warfare is no light matter.
What saith the Scripture? “Fight the good fight of faith. Lay hold on eternal life” (1 Tim. 6:12). “Endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ” (2 Tim. 2:3). “We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Eph. 6:12). “Strive to enter in at the strait gate” (Luke 13:24). “Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong” (1 Cor. 16:13). Words such as these are clear, plain, and unmistakable. They all teach one and the same great lesson: true Christianity is a struggle, a fight, and a warfare.
It is a fight of absolute necessity. We cannot remain neutral and sit still. To be at peace with the world, the flesh, and the devil is to be at enmity with God, and in the broad way that leadeth to destruction. We have no choice or option. We must either fight or be lost.
It is a fight of universal necessity. No rank, class, or age can plead exemption. Ministers and people, preachers and hearers, old and young, high and low, rich and poor — all alike must carry arms and go to war. All have by nature a heart full of pride, unbelief, sloth, worldliness, and sin. All are living in a world beset with snares, traps, and pitfalls for the soul. All have near them a busy, restless, malicious devil.
It is a fight of perpetual necessity. It admits no breathing time, no armistice, no truce. On weekdays as well as on Sundays, in private as well as in public, at home by the family fireside as well as abroad, in little things like management of tongue and temper as well as in great ones — the Christian’s warfare must unceasingly go on. The foe we have to do with keeps no holidays, never slumbers, and never sleeps. So long as we have breath in our bodies we must keep on our armour and remember we are on an enemy’s ground. “Even on the brink of Jordan,” said a dying saint, “I find Satan nibbling at my heels.” We must fight until we die.
The Comfort of Inward Conflict
The saddest symptom about many so-called Christians is the utter absence of anything like conflict and fight in their Christianity. They eat, they drink, they dress, they work, they amuse themselves, they get money, they spend money, they go through a scanty round of formal religious services once or twice every week. But of the great spiritual warfare — its watchings and strugglings, its agonies and anxieties, its battles and contests — of all this they appear to know nothing at all. The worst state of soul is when a strong man armed keepeth his palace and his goods are in peace — when Satan leads men captive at his will, and they make no resistance. The worst chains are those that are neither felt nor seen by the prisoner.
But we may take comfort about our souls if we know anything of an inward fight and conflict. It is the invariable companion of genuine Christian holiness. Do we find in our heart of hearts a spiritual struggle? Do we feel anything of the flesh lusting against the spirit and the spirit against the flesh, so that we cannot do the things we would (Gal. 5:17)? Are we conscious of two principles within us contending for the mastery? Do we feel anything of war in our inward man? Well, let us thank God for it. It is a good sign. It is strongly probable evidence of the great work of sanctification. All true saints are soldiers. Anything is better than apathy, stagnation, deadness, and indifference.
We are evidently no friends of Satan. Like the kings of this world, he does not war against his own subjects. The very fact that he assaults us should fill our minds with hope.
The child of God has two great marks about him. He may be known by his inward warfare, as well as by his inward peace. From Holiness: Its Nature, Hindrances, Difficulties, and Roots (London: William Hunt and Company, 1889).