You wouldn’t head into the Pacific on a patched-up inflatable without a life jacket, and you shouldn’t step into a spiritual ocean without the whole armor either. Armor is irreducibly complex—leave out one piece and something vital is exposed. Like a VW bus without brake fluid, everything seems fine until the moment you need to stop and can’t. God’s armor may feel inconvenient or cumbersome, but the moment the patch peels and bubbles rise, you’ll be grateful you wore it. Put it all on—truth, righteousness, readiness, faith, salvation, the Word, prayer—so that you’re not surprised by leaks or intersections you never saw coming [02:14]
Ephesians 6:10–13: Draw your strength from the Lord and His mighty power. Put on every piece of God’s armor so you can stand against the devil’s schemes. Your struggle isn’t against people, but against unseen rulers and powers of darkness. Therefore, take up the full armor, so that when the evil day arrives, you can hold your ground; and when you’ve done everything you know to do, keep standing.
Reflection: Which specific “piece” of the armor are you tempted to leave off because it feels inconvenient, and what would it look like to put it on this week in a concrete, daily way?
The halo effect can trick you into thinking skill in one area means strength in every area. The Dunning–Kruger effect whispers that ignorance is expertise, leaving us “too unaware to know we’re unaware.” Scripture shows godly people with glaring blindspots—David with desire, Peter with pride, Abraham with fear, Moses with temper. Wisdom is to invite God’s searchlight, not to flinch from what He reveals. Make it a daily habit to ask God to expose what you can’t see and to lead you into the way that lasts [03:02]
Psalm 139:23–24: Search me, God; look beneath the surface of my thoughts and motives. Test me where my anxieties hide. Point out whatever in me bends toward harm or ruin, and guide me step by step along the path that brings life.
Reflection: What is one recurring pattern others have gently pointed out in you—defensiveness, comparison, rushing—and how could you prayerfully test that pattern with Psalm 139 this week?
Armor “of God” means its source, standard, and strength are God Himself. Our age often moves authority from Scripture to science to self, where “I feel” becomes the loudest voice in the room. Ancient faith gladly submits emotions to God through Scripture, trusting His wisdom over our impulses. Love warns, even when warning feels unsafe, because silence in the face of danger is not love. Let God’s Word carry more weight than moods, and your footing will hold when the ground shifts [03:41]
Ezekiel 3:17–19: I’ve made you a watchman. When I warn, you must pass it on. If you stay silent and harm comes, they bear their guilt, and you share the blame. But if you speak and they ignore it, they answer for themselves, and you have been faithful.
Reflection: Where are you most likely to say “I feel” instead of “God says,” and what simple practice (a reading plan, a memorized verse, a weekly check-in) could help you submit that area to Scripture?
You’ve been set free in Christ, so you don’t have to trade deep joy for cheap thrills. Temptation offers a rush that ends in emptiness—screen-based intimacy that isolates, surface-level community that never knows you, parenting by purchases that avoids the hard, holy work of raising kingdom-minded kids. God promises a way of escape and the Spirit’s power to walk it. Pause, pray, think deeply about what you most want, call a trusted friend, and choose the path that leads to life. Freedom is not a theory; it’s a daily step empowered by grace [04:28]
1 Corinthians 10:13: The tests you face aren’t unique, and God is faithful. He won’t let the pressure crush you beyond what His grace enables. With every temptation, He opens a real exit, so you can bear it and walk out.
Reflection: Name one “cheap thrill” that has been calling your name; what deeper desire is it counterfeiting, and what specific step will you take this week to pursue the real thing?
Some seasons hit like earthquakes—loss, doubt, relentless pressure—and all you can do is not collapse. Scripture doesn’t say “run a marathon” in those moments; it says, “after you’ve done everything, stand.” Standing looks like ordinary faithfulness: steady prayer, steady Scripture, steady love for family, steady presence in community. Others have stood—Joseph, Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, Paul—and above all, Jesus stood. Feed your soul on Christ, and keep your place until the arrows stop [03:36]
Daniel 3:16–18: Faced with the king’s fire, they answered, “We don’t need to argue our case. Our God can rescue us, and He will if He chooses. But even if He doesn’t deliver us the way we hope, we still will not bow to your idol.”
Reflection: If your current season feels like an “evil day,” which ordinary act of faithfulness—prayer at a set time, weekly communion with the church, a daily psalm—will you commit to so you can keep standing?
I opened with a story about paddling a patched-up inflatable raft into the Pacific and being thankful, at the moment of bubbling disaster, for the one thing that felt inconvenient: a life jacket. That’s the picture Paul gives in Ephesians 6:10-13. God’s armor may not always feel comfortable, but it is necessary. It’s not a buffet. It’s irreducibly complex. Miss one piece and you’re vulnerable—like my old VW bus with 12,000 parts and no brake fluid. One small omission can become a big disaster.
We tend to trust our strengths too much. Halo Effect. Dunning-Kruger. Blind spots are real. David, Peter, Abraham, Moses—giants with gaps. So I urged us to adopt a simple daily prayer from Psalm 139: “Search me… try me… see if there be any wicked way in me… lead me.” The armor is “of God.” That means the source and the standard are God, not me. I traced the cultural shift in authority: ancient (Scripture), modern (science), postmodern (self). We live in the age of “I feel,” where feelings often sit in the driver’s seat. But Ephesians assumes an ancient posture: God speaks; Scripture is authority; I submit my emotions, not the other way around.
With God’s armor, we can withstand. Not easily, but truly (1 Corinthians 10:13; Romans 6). We celebrate forgiveness—and we should—but we should also celebrate that we are no longer slaves to sin. New covenant hearts want God. We get deceived when we trade deep joy for cheap thrills. Cheap is available. Deep takes patience and wisdom. Porn promises intensity and leaves people empty, ashamed, and alone. Shallow “community” at the bar gives the feeling of companionship without the truth that transforms us. Buying kids off with stuff substitutes for the hard and beautiful work of forming souls. When tempted, pause and ask, “What do I most want in ten years?” Pray. Phone a friend. Choose the long game.
Then there’s “the evil day.” Not Revelation horses. The personal season when the waves don’t stop. I shared mine: grief, doubt, and two years of darkness. I didn’t sprint. I stood. Kept teaching. Kept praying. Kept loving my family. And one day the barrage ended. The shalom that followed changed me. Some in Scripture fell on their evil day; others stood—Joseph, Daniel, Shadrach/Meshach/Abednego, Paul, and Jesus. We come to the Table to be strengthened, so when that day comes, we can stand.
Guess what I was glad to have? A life jacket! Truth is I needed it. It may not have been comfortable, may at times been inconvenient, but truth is I needed the life jacket.
The whole armor means we need every single piece to be protected. Without all the pieces it's useless—the Armor of God is irreducibly complex. You can't leave out any part unless you want to be vulnerable.
When someone is super gifted in one area, the halo effect creates a tendency to believe they—or we—are good at everything. That halo effect is wrong. Dangerous.
The Dunning-Kruger effect: ignorance makes you overestimate your ability. You can be too dumb to know it, confidently blind to your lack of competence.
We must hold to ancient faith: God is the authority, Scripture is the authority. I will submit my emotions to God through Scripture.
An armored-up saint can withstand the attacks of the enemy, the flesh, and the world. We have been set free; we do not have to keep sinning.
Here is how a believer gets deceived and shipwrecked: we forfeit deep joy for cheap thrills, and we end up broken and miserable.
We trade what we actually want—a lifelong committed relationship—for gold-painted poop. Yes, I said that: we swap lasting love for worthless, shiny substitutes.
When tempted, stop and think deeply about what you most want. Pray, get counsel, phone a friend; do that most often and live wise and godly.
I simply stood still during my evil day. For two years I kept doing what I'd been doing—pastor, teach the Bible, pray, read, love my wife, parent my kids. Stand firm.
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