O Lord, clothe me not first for battle— but for covenant. Let me put on the garment You measured for me before You taught my hands to war. Before a sword, You wove a robe.

This linen— this מד (Armor) stitched with mercy and truth— fits my frame not by might, nor by power, but by the Spirit’s hand.

It is my wedding garment, woven from waters of Word, threaded through with faith, fastened with love, fringed with fire.

I lift it now— not as heavy armor weighed by fear, but as a mantle of belonging. I take it up— not to earn my place, but to remember my name.

Before the stones fly, before the giants fall, before the trumpet sounds— I stand clothed. I stand loved. I stand ready.

The fiercest battle I fight today is not to slay an enemy— but to remain clothed in the beauty You gave me when You called me Yours.

I am dressed. I am guarded. I am Yours.