Putting On the Armor of God

Things have been rough at work lately. There really isn’t a prettier way to say it. Some days I come home frustrated, some days exhausted, and some days I find myself wondering how something that used to simply be my job became something that takes so much energy just to get through. Work shouldn’t follow you home in your thoughts, but sometimes it does. You replay conversations, question things that happened, and find yourself thinking about tomorrow before you have even had a chance to recover from today.

Lately, though, I have been doing something every morning before I walk into that environment. I put on the armor of God. Not literally, of course, but very intentionally. I think about the words Paul wrote in Ephesians 6, and I remind myself that I don’t have to walk into the day unprotected. I may not have control over what happens around me, what someone says, what mood another person is in, or what gets thrown my way that day, but I do have control over what I carry in with me.

The armor of God has become much more personal to me because of that. The belt of truth reminds me to stay grounded in what I know to be true rather than getting pulled into assumptions, gossip, or someone else’s version of events. The breastplate of righteousness reminds me that I am responsible for my own actions and my own character, regardless of how anyone else chooses to behave. The shoes of peace remind me that I don’t have to participate in every conflict I am invited into. Sometimes protecting my peace means simply doing my job, being kind, and refusing to carry someone else’s negativity with me.

Then there is the shield of faith, and I think some mornings I hold onto that one a little tighter than the others. Faith reminds me that this season isn’t the whole story. When things feel unfair or uncertain, I don’t have to know exactly how everything is going to work out in order to believe that God is still with me in the middle of it. Faith doesn’t magically make a difficult workday easy, but it changes the way I walk into it. Instead of feeling like I have to handle everything entirely on my own, I can remind myself that I am not walking through any of this alone.

The helmet of salvation protects my mind, and perhaps that is the piece of armor I understand differently now than I once did. So much of what happens during a difficult season takes place inside our own heads. We replay things. We anticipate problems that haven’t happened yet. We allow someone else’s words to take up far more space in our thoughts than they deserve. I am learning to be more careful about what I allow to live there. Someone else doesn’t get to decide my worth simply because they have an opinion about me, and a difficult day doesn’t get to convince me that my entire life is difficult.

The sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, reminds me that I have something stronger to answer those thoughts with. When I start feeling overwhelmed, I can come back to Scripture. When fear starts getting louder, I can remind myself of God’s promises. When I feel like I have reached the end of my patience, I can ask Him for a little more. Sometimes it isn’t a dramatic spiritual moment. Sometimes it is simply a quiet prayer before I walk through the door asking God to help me get through this day with my peace, my integrity, and hopefully my sense of humor still intact.

I think that is what I am beginning to understand about the armor of God. Putting it on doesn’t mean nothing difficult is going to happen. Armor wouldn’t be necessary if there were never going to be battles. It doesn’t guarantee that everyone will treat me fairly, that every situation will resolve the way I want it to, or that I won’t have days when I come home completely worn out. What it does is remind me that difficult circumstances don’t have to determine who I become while I am walking through them.

There is also something comforting about knowing that I don’t have to fight every battle myself. I can do what is mine to do. I can show up, do my job well, treat people the way I believe they should be treated, speak up when I need to, and establish boundaries when they are necessary. Then I can give God the things that are outside of my control. I am discovering there is a tremendous difference between caring about something and carrying all of it.

Maybe that is why this particular Scripture has become so meaningful to me during this season. I used to picture the armor of God as something from a Sunday school lesson, with pictures of Roman soldiers and labels pointing to each piece of armor. Now I understand it in a much more practical way. Some mornings the battlefield looks a lot less like something from ancient history and a lot more like getting dressed, grabbing my things, driving to work, taking a deep breath, and walking through the door.

I don’t know how long this difficult season at work will last. I don’t know what will change, what won’t change, or what God may eventually lead me to do. What I do know is that I don’t want the circumstances around me to steal the peace within me. I don’t want someone else’s behavior to change my character, and I don’t want frustration to follow me home and take time away from the parts of my life that matter so much more.

So every morning, I will keep putting on the armor of God. I will remind myself of what is true, guard my heart and my mind, choose peace whenever I can, hold onto my faith, and ask God for the wisdom to know which battles are mine to fight and which ones I need to hand over to Him. I may not get to choose everything that happens when I walk through those doors, but with God’s help, I can choose how much of it I allow to walk back out with me at the end of the day.