Are You Dressed to WIN?

Wouldn't it be great if we could lace up our shoe strings and hit the ground running without distractions, hiccups, or stumbles in our daily routine? However, we know, just as sure as we have a pulse, the "inevitable" will creep in (without invitation). The world urges us to prepare our hearts to "expect" the unexpected. But what does God say about it?

We expect to encounter a little rain on any given cloudy day.
We expect life to throw a "curve ball" or two to check our faithfulness on our post.

But what about those abrupt wind storms that catch us by surprise (without fair warning)?

Disappointments that show up by way of familiar faces?
Rejections that serve an immediate chin check?
Overwhelming sadness that punctures a lung during loss?

On Monday, my sister in Christ sounded the alarm and reminded me that we have to remain "suited up" and dressed for battle. (Don't allow the enemy to catch you by surprise!)

Ephesians 6:10, "Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil schemes."

Somehow, I landed smack dab in the middle of an unexpected war zone. The enemy launched attacks from every direction, but little did I know at the time, I was ALREADY dressed to win!

"if we died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him. If we disown him, he will also disown us: if we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself."-2 Timothy 2:11

Don't "bow out gracefully" at the first sign of attack.
Don't surrender prematurely.

PICK UP YOUR WEAPONS AND PREPARE FOR THE WIN!

Comments

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant, yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...

A Daily Dose of Freedom

Search This Blog