Keep on the armour of God

Providing for my children is not parenting. I still have to come home and parent them. Even with financial abundance, I can give them what they want, but I must still parent them.
Talking about the whole armour of God is not the same as putting it on. Reading about it is not the same as wearing it.
I love that the Bible, from verse 10, says, “Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.” Verse 11 continues, “Put on the whole armour of God.” Isn’t it interesting that it specifies “whole armour”? He could have simply said “the armour of God”.
Armour is armour, right? Yet it says “whole armour” because we tend to put on only part of it.
We often lose parts of our armour and still feel covered. Sometimes we think that because others around us are wearing theirs, we are safe—believing that if necessary, they’ll form a protective circle around us.
That’s partly why we get upset when we ask people to cover us in prayer and they don’t—because deep down, we expect them to use their armour to protect us.
Yes, there’s a place for that, I won’t deny it. But sometimes, could it be that our sense of entitlement stems from the belief that if we don’t act, someone else will?
One of my favourite stories about collective inaction is an allegory. There was supposed to be a community party, and everyone was asked to bring a cup of wine. One person thought, “If everyone else brings wine and I bring water, no one will notice.”
So they did, and on the day of the event, they poured their cup of water into the communal drum. When it came time to drink, everyone found that the drum contained only water.
Why? Because everyone had the same thought: “If others bring wine, I can get away with bringing water.”
What makes you think others don’t think like you? If you say, “I won’t put on my armour because someone else will,” what if someone else is thinking the same about you?
Your armour of God is, first and foremost, a personal matter. It’s not communal—it’s personal.
Put on the whole armour of God so you can stand against the wiles of the devil.
I want to read from my notes: Be strong in the Lord—not in your education, abilities, experience, or anything else. Be strong in Him. Let the Lord be your standard.
Not your own power, or someone else’s, or a sense of obligation—His power. Do you truly know His power?
Often, we only associate God’s power with visible miracles—demons being cast out, cancer being healed. But is that all?
If evil didn’t exist, would God’s power be meaningless? We often treat it as if it’s only relevant in the presence of evil—when something goes wrong, then God’s power shows up.
But that’s a limited view. If evil ceased to exist, what would God’s power still mean in your life?
If there were no financial struggles, trauma, illness, or conflict, would His power still matter?
If your answer is no, that implies God needs evil to prove Himself—but He doesn’t.
I would still need the whole armour of God even if Satan wasn’t pursuing me. But newsflash—he is. He absolutely is.
The Bible says he prowls around like a lion, seeking whom to devour. In Job, when he appeared before God, he said he’d been roaming the earth.
Even without evil, the armour would still be necessary. Understand that the whole armour of God is not a luxury or a burden—it’s essential.
It’s not a matter of picking the parts you prefer. The entire armour is non-negotiable.
There is an evil day, and in 2 Timothy, which I’ve been referring to, the scripture becomes even more direct.
2 Timothy 3:1-5 warns that in the last days, perilous times will come: men will be lovers of themselves, covetous, boastful, proud, blasphemous, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, without natural affection, unforgiving, false accusers, lacking self-control, brutal, haters of good, traitors, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. From such people, turn away.
Now, be honest—can you say none of these traits apply to you?
These are signs of the last days—what some refer to as the “evil day.” Can you truly say you’ve never been ungrateful, proud, or self-centred?
So how does the armour of God help in these times?
Ephesians says we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, powers, rulers of darkness, and spiritual wickedness in high places.
Therefore, take up the whole armour of God, so you can withstand in the evil day—after doing everything.
At the end of time, many of us find ourselves stuck in comfort zones.
We’re not motivated. Unless something compels us to act, we remain passive.
You can’t provoke me—I’m just not motivated.
This earth, God’s earth, isn’t sustained by scientific explanation alone.
The ordinary, everyday life—the “mundane miracles”—don’t occur because of thunder or dramatic signs in the heavens. They come through the simple act of putting on the whole armour of God.
Do you know the truth? When someone distorts it slightly, calling it evidence or misquoting scripture, do you recognise it?
You only can because you wear the armour—because you’ve committed to knowing God’s truth, not merely your own.
Sometimes what we call “our truth” is actually the product of broken systems or people. Are you willing to let God change what you believe so you can be properly guarded?
Let’s talk about the breastplate of righteousness. I was about to share a biblical example.
When Jesus healed the woman with the issue of blood—on the Sabbath, if I recall correctly—they were upset. Why heal on a holy day?
Yes, the Sabbath is a law, but Jesus revealed a greater truth: shouldn’t this daughter of Abraham be set free?
Your firmness and stability depend on the truth you know.
If Jesus didn’t know that she shouldn’t be bound, he might have been bullied into inaction. Remember he once told another woman that he couldn’t give the children’s bread to dogs. He understood the truth—that those in the house deserve the bread.
Back to the breastplate: it’s for unavoidable blows—impacts that get past the shield.
Hebrews 12 follows on from chapter 11, which repeatedly speaks of faith.
Then chapter 12 begins, “Seeing we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin which so easily besets us, and run with patience the race before us. Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at God’s right hand.”
“Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you do not grow weary and lose heart. You have not resisted to the point of shedding your blood in your struggle against sin.”
That’s the breastplate—pushing back even when you don’t want to.
When the battle gets close, you need the confidence that you won’t be harmed—and that comes from having your breastplate on.
The Bible says you’ve not yet resisted sin to the point of shedding blood. But before telling us to do so, it points to how Jesus endured—for the joy set before Him.
So, Liza, the question is—are you wearing your breastplate?
Are you willing to push back against the things the enemy subtly sneaks into your space?
Would you resist sin? Even when emotions are involved? Would you remove yourself from the situation, meet that person in a public place instead?
That is applying the breastplate of righteousness. I won’t go into more examples now.
Breastplates aren’t light—but righteousness isn’t, either.
It may feel like a burden, but must I wear it? I can imagine myself being both a warrior and a child.
“Do I have to wear it? Mummy, can I take it off? Mummy, my shoulder hurts. Can I take it off?” And we go to God like that. We say, “Lord, I’m tired.”
“This thing is heavy. Can I take it off?” And the answer is: wear it. Wear it because something is coming.
You may not know what’s coming, but wear it. I wrote in my notes that righteousness gives you additional responsibilities you wouldn’t otherwise take on. It’s the breastplate of righteousness.
Righteousness demands tasks you wouldn’t naturally choose, but it can save your life. Isaiah 60:17 speaks of righteousness as an exactor—a taskmaster.
Righteousness brings responsibilities others don’t carry. Everyone else might be dating carelessly—but that’s not your path.
Everyone in your office may show up late and alter the records, but if you’re one minute late, the Lord won’t let you do the same. Others may knowingly enjoy the benefits of stolen money, yet righteousness will whisper to you, “Don’t you dare.”
Others may do as they please, but righteousness guards you and your household. The terms and conditions are different. That’s the breastplate of righteousness at work—even if it doesn’t feel like protection.
It may seem unnecessary, but it is vital. It’s life-saving armour. “Stand therefore, having your loins girt…” Then verse 15 says, “and your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.”
As you prepare to share the gospel, it prepares you too. The Word of God, quick and powerful, divides your unaligned self. Where you and God are not in agreement, the Word begins to cut and reshape you.
You prepare in and out of season—to evangelise, teach, encourage, prophesy, hear God and communicate His message. You introduce Him to others.
While writing this, I realised evangelism is simply, “Hi, Ernestina, meet my friend Jesus.” It hit me when I wrote “introduce to all of them.” I do this all the time—introducing people to each other.
“Hi Michael, meet my friend Joy. She’s fantastic. You have to try her cooking.”
We’ve all done this—with excitement. “You need to meet my friend Angela—her writing, her speech, her cooking.” We rave about our friends.
But isn’t that what evangelism is? “Hi Michael, meet my friend Jesus. You need to see how peaceful He makes things.”
You need to experience how calm He is. The verse says your feet should be shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. So every day, I’m walking around, armed with peace.
Even if someone approaches me with hostility, I come prepared—with peace. I’m ready to hear God in the moment. I’m ready to introduce Jesus if needed.
As Paul tells Timothy, be ready to do the work of ministry in and out of season—not just when on stage, but every day.
Back in university, when I served in ministry, my pastor had a wardrobe rule for leaders and ministers: If you can’t preach in it, don’t wear it out.
I’ve broken that rule many times since leaving that ministry, but it was Pastor Mike’s one rule. The reasoning was simple—you never know when you’ll be called on.
You might be in a casual setting and suddenly be asked to pray or speak. And if you’re dressed inappropriately—say, in bedroom slippers—while the person you’re engaging wears a suit and tie, how do you convince them that your Jesus is not homeless?
As trivial as that sounds, it was a physical reminder to be prepared to share the gospel of peace. Dressing with purpose each day reminded us: if I need to minister, let nothing—especially not my appearance—be a hindrance.
It was a form of preparation. If someone offends me while I’m driving, I pause and think—if I react now, how will I preach the gospel to them later? I remember my pastor in Abuja once shared how someone provoked him while he was still driving taxis. He reacted, and someone shouted, “Pastor, what are you doing?”
We must live with our feet shod in the preparation of the gospel of peace. Above all, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the fiery darts of the wicked. Do all this in faith.
Everything—do it through faith, do it for faith.
Every part of the armour—wear it in faith. “Lord, I don’t feel like being righteous today. Righteousness feels too hard, but I trust Your judgement.”
“I don’t feel capable of righteousness right now, but I believe You’re working in me.” Be weak in your humanity, but strong in faith.
Have enough faith not to remove your armour, even when righteousness feels like a burden. You may be tempted to remove the breastplate of righteousness, but don’t.
You think God will protect you without it—then have faith that He can make the armour light to bear. I remember hearing both Jackie Hill Perry and Sarah Jakes say, “If you can have faith that God will convert your unbelieving crush, then have faith He can bring you someone already saved.”
It’s the same faith—use it wisely. Use your faith to stay armoured.
Use faith to show up daily. Use it to deflect what the enemy throws. And finally, take the helmet of salvation…
…and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Isn’t it interesting that we are told to be ready to share the gospel before being told to take up the sword? That lie that you need a diploma in theology before you can mentor—it’s straight from hell.
That notion of “I’ll study first, then share”—it’s a lie.
That voice telling you you’re unworthy to be a part of Christ’s body until you can teach for 30 minutes—also a lie. Turn on your camera and teach what stood out to you in Ephesians, even if it’s for five minutes.
In fact, I’ll post that generally in the group. Do life with others here and now.
Even if you only know one verse, or one doctrine—say, “Jesus died and we’re to take communion”—stick with it and share it. Keep reading the Bible until God chooses to open heaven and show you the angel Ezekiel saw.
Until then, commune with others where you are. It’s in the mundane, everyday life that we grow. Stay grounded in the Word.
Inner Form isn’t a substitute for the Word of God. What I share there is simply an overflow of what I’ve received.
Some teachings I summarise in one hour or one sentence took me three years to understand. Sometimes I didn’t even know what God was doing until I reached a key milestone.
He wouldn’t tell me upfront. So when I offer something in a sentence, you’ll have to unpack it in your own time—with God’s Word.
“Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints.” Just pray.
Always pray. Pray through doubt. Pray weakly.
Pray with strength. Pray while ministering. Pray when your armour feels weak.
Pray when it’s fully on. Just pray. That’s what I wrote in my notes.
That’s the last thing: just pray.
Whether you feel broken or on top of the world—whether you’re seeing visions of Jesus on the throne with angels all around, even naming them—still pray.
God does these things. Still, pray.
Don’t be too proud to pray. Don’t be too weak to pray.
It’s part of your armour. Father, in the name of Jesus, I pray for every member of InnerFam. God, I pray that they will see You—clearly and fully.
I pray, Lord, that none of us would continue missing pieces of our armour. I pray for myself too—that we would not start thinking the armour of God is too heavy, setting it aside for a bit of ‘normal life’ before coming back to it. No. I come against that enemy whispering to us, “You don’t need to be that righteous. What’s all this? Are you holier than the Pope? More devout than the elders?”
I rebuke every ministration of the enemy convincing us that we’re ‘doing the most’. God, help us be confident in doing the most—if that is what You require. Help us be at peace when people ask, “Why do you always dress like a pastor?” Let us be fine with it. If that’s what it takes to show up and be ready to preach—so be it.
When people say, “Why are you always studying?” Lord, may we be content doing what’s necessary to remain in the full armour of God.
May we be the kind of brethren who, even if others have dropped their armour, can still stand and defend the body of Christ. In the name of Jesus, may our prayer life be enough to cover others. May our courage be enough to embolden others. May our faith be enough to uplift the whole body.
May we, like You, believe that when You return, You’ll find a church without spot or wrinkle.
Lord, as Your word divides soul from spirit, bone from marrow—may we embrace the cutting. It may not please our flesh, but may we not resist Your refining. May our eyes stay fixed on You.
As You strip away anything in us that does not align with Your will—no matter how much we’ve come to love it, no matter how tied it is to our personality or sense of self—may we not clutch at what You’re removing. May we not grieve for what You are freeing us from.
God, as You call us to deeper faith, may we not shrink back. In the name of Jesus, we will not retreat, saying, “Let me not be too loud. Let me not take up too much space.”
No—we will take up space. We will preach the gospel boldly to the nations. We will declare it in our industries. We will proclaim it to our neighbours. We will look like You desire us to look.
When You come, Lord, we will resemble You.
In Jesus’ name, we will live in the full armour of God. We will be a people who know how to hear You. A people who know how to see You. A people who are at home in Your presence.
We will be holy as You are holy. We will be blameless before You. We will not seek validation from men. We will stand before You, and before You in love. And we will know that perfect love casts out all fear.
Father, in the name of Jesus, I rebuke every fear—fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of being unloved, fear that we are not enough. I rebuke the fear of success, the fear of failure, and the fear of not measuring up.