The Weapons for Rebuilding Christendom (Part 5: The Church As Headquarters)
This article is part of the series Weapons for Building Christendom, where we are exploring the God-given armaments that Christians must wield if we are to see households strengthened, churches fortified, and nations brought under the dominion of Jesus Christ.
Victories are not planned when you are in the thick of battle. They are conceived beforehand, with careful planning, in war rooms. And in the cosmic conflict of redemption, where we are fighting to see the world conformed to the image of God, Christ has not left His soldiers scattered and hunkered down, planless and hopeless, in the throes of war; He has gathered them, armed them, and stationed them within His living fortress—the church to be prepared for war. The church, therefore, is His command center, His embassy of heaven, His headquarters on earth. There, week by week, He feeds His army, fortifies His saints, and issues the next week’s His orders. Thus, to sever yourself from the gathered church is to cut yourself off from God’s supply lines and command center, it is to discard your rations, and to wander into the wilderness of uncertainty without your marching orders. No soldier, however zealous, can long survive apart from the camp, the same is true of men and women disconnected from His Church.
THE CHURCH IS AS HEADQUARTERS
When Jesus Christ ascended to the right hand of the Father, He did not establish a loose association of enthusiasts who gather once a week to sing some songs. He enthroned Himself as King over the cosmos and founded a kingdom that would never end. And where there is a kingdom, there must be a capital. And that is where the church comes in. The gathered church is that capital—an embassy of heaven planted upon the soil of earth.
“Upon this rock,” Christ declared, “I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not overpower it” (Matt 16:18). That is not the language of clubs, hobbyists, pacifists, or a gaggle of cowards. The enemy kingdom has gates; the church has battering rams; and our job on earth is to batter. Gates are defensive structures—built to withstand assault—which tells us everything about our purpose. If hell has built a kingdom full of gates, then they at least understand what our role is better than we do. And while we nap in the clouds, Hell is fully awake—erecting as many gates as possible to hold us back. But even that cannot stop the church. Because of what Jesus has done, demons and principalities have been disarmed, stripped, and humiliated; and all they have left are their defensive gates—pitiful, trembling gates that cannot stand when we advance.
If we would simply do our job, they have as much hope of winning as a middle school girls’ soccer team against the men’s World Cup champions. The church of Christ is not meant to cower in foxholes or hide in trenches; she is meant to charge. We are to be confidently, courageously, and convictionally advancing in such a way that the very gates of hell splinter before us. And before that advance each week, we must have clear plans communicated to us in the church, heavenly food to strengthen us from the church, and the Spirit’s orders to send us out from the church—so that we may scatter and tear down those hellish fortresses. If we leave the Lord’s Day assembly with any other mission than identifying the gates of hell and knocking them down, then we have missed the whole point of what it means to be Christian and to belong to a Christian church. Every faithful local church that preaches Christ crucified and administers the means of grace each Sunday is a siege engine aimed squarely at the walls of hell.
Each Lord’s Day, the saints are summoned to the King’s headquarters. There, strategy is set, strength is renewed, and the next offensive is launched. The pulpit is not a lectern for opinions; it is the command post of the Commander-in-Chief. And we would do well to think of it in this way.
THE CHURCH TRAINS, ARMS, AND DEPLOYS
Luke describes the early church’s rhythm of life with battlefield precision: “They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). These four coordinates—Word, fellowship, sacrament, and prayer—are the essential logistics of Christ’s campaign. They are not ornaments of religion; they are the operational necessities of war.
1. THE WORD — THE ARSENAL OF TRUTH
The apostles’ teaching is the armory of the saints. Every sermon faithfully preached is a crate of ammunition shipped to the front lines. The Word refines doctrine, forges courage, and fortifies conviction. It does not exist to entertain soldiers but to equip them. Sermons are not pep talks; they are royal decrees. To neglect the Word is to fight with an empty scabbard.
2. THE SACRAMENTS — THE SUPPLY LINE OF GRACE
In baptism, Christ drafts new soldiers into His ranks; at the Table, He feeds them for battle. “Where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst” (Matt 18:20). The sacraments are the conduits of His presence, the tangible channels of divine strength. Cut yourself off from the Table, and you cut yourself off from the Christ who hosts it. The bread and wine are not mere symbols—they are rations for weary pilgrims and warriors.
3. FELLOWSHIP — THE BROTHERHOOD OF ARMS
No soldier fights alone. Fellowship is not chatter over coffee; it is covenantal camaraderie under fire. The early believers “devoted themselves… to fellowship” because they understood that isolation is the devil’s first ambush. The man who treats church like a podcast will die like a podcast—heard by many, helped by none. Real fellowship means real presence, real accountability, and real strength. It is the clash of iron upon iron until both blades gleam with readiness.
4. PRAYER — THE AIR SUPPORT OF HEAVEN
Prayer is how the church coordinates with heaven. It is not background noise before the sermon—it is how the saints call down artillery fire upon the enemy. The apostles prayed, “and the place where they had gathered together was shaken” (Acts 4:31). When the church prays, heaven moves. When the church prays, the gates of hell quake. A prayerless church is an unarmed church, and unarmed churches don’t rebuild civilizations—they get conquered by them.
CUTTING THE SUPPLY LINES
The writer of Hebrews sounds the alarm like a trumpet at dawn: “Do not forsake our own assembling together, as is the habit of some” (Heb 10:25). That is not a polite reminder—it is a wartime directive. Neglecting the assembly is not a scheduling mishap or a busy man’s oversight; it is an act of desertion. When a soldier refuses to muster with his regiment, he doesn’t merely skip a meeting—he breaks ranks, abandons his post, and cuts himself off from the supply line of heaven. To forsake the gathering of the saints is to walk away from the armory, the rations, the healing tents, and the command of the King Himself.
And the enemy knows it. That is why his most subtle stratagem is not persecution but pacification. The devil has learned that he doesn’t need to crush the church with the sword if he can cradle her to sleep with comfort. He no longer needs to burn our sanctuaries when he can simply bore us within them. He has traded his fire for fog, his violence for apathy. He knows that a drowsy army poses no threat, that a sleeping soldier requires no bullet—he will perish peacefully in his dreams.
The church that ceases to assemble is not neutral; she is already conquered. Her banners may still wave, her doors may still open, her sermons may still sound—but her heart no longer beats. The day a church grows indifferent to gathering is the day she raises the white flag of surrender.
BUILDING A WAR-READY CHURCH
If Christendom is to be rebuilt, it will not be through conferences or viral videos, but through churches—ordinary churches that believe extraordinary promises.
Preach the Word with Precision. Expository, doctrinal, unflinching. The pulpit is not for opinions but for oracles.
Administer the Sacraments with Joy and Frequency. Feed the troops often (i.e. weekly); the Table is the banquet that fuels conquest.
Discipline with Courage. The army that never courts-martials its traitors will soon be led by them.
Forge Fraternity. Build a wall of brothers. Eat together, pray together, fight together.
Pray with Fire. Stop whispering timid petitions to the Almighty. Pray with the thunder of those who know the war is already won.
A war-ready church is not one that mimics the world but one that mirrors heaven. She will be holy, hopeful, hard to kill, and worthy of the world’s arrows.
CHRIST’S PRESENCE IN THE CAMP
The beauty of the gathered church is not merely her structure, but her Guest. “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). Christ Himself walks the ranks. He inspects His soldiers, heals their wounds, and renews their vows. Every sermon heard is His voice. Every sacrament received is His touch. Every benediction spoken is His commission. The church is not a memorial society of a dead leader—it is the living headquarters of a reigning King.
And when that King stands among His troops, heaven and earth intersect. The war room becomes a throne room. The congregation becomes an embassy of glory. And from that place, the armies of grace march forth again—steadied, fed, and fearless.
So come to headquarters. Report for duty.
Fall in with the saints.
Receive your rations.
Hear your King.
And march forth until every gate falls and every knee bows and every tongue confesses:
“Jesus Christ is Lord.”
