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 an 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. Blind spots are real. David, Peter, Abraham, Moses—giants with gaps. 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. 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.