Lately, my three year old son has started his mornings the same way.

Before breakfast, before shoes, before he’s fully awake… he runs to me (Taren) in his pj’s, clutching his Spider-Man outfit, babbling urgently in his half-words what he wants next.

Spider-Man outfit. Now.

When I put it on him, something changes.

He seems to stand taller and move faster.
It’s as though he feels… invincible.

Suddenly he can jump higher, run harder, climb faster. He wears it proudly to drop his big sister at school and keeps it on to go to the shops with me. It’s not just a costume, it’s his armour.

In that suit, it’s as though he’s braver, more confident, ready for whatever the day throws at him.

Watching him, its made me think about how much courage comes from knowing that you’re protected. And in that, Paul’s words about the armour of God feel less like a metaphor and more like real wisdom.

The bible tells us to “put on the full armour of God” (Ephesians 6), yet for years those words lived only in my head. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, all beautiful words that felt more symbolic than practical.

But real armour doesn’t exist to be admired, it exists to be worn - right?

Armour is worn because life is messy, because the days are hard, because there are battles you don’t get to opt out of just because you love Jesus.

The armour of God covers us and protects what’s vital. And when we’re wearing it, we show up differently.

We stand a little taller. We walk into hard conversations instead of avoiding them. We face pain, loss, uncertainty, and temptation knowing we’re not exposed, even when we’re feeling vulnerable.

My son doesn’t wear his Spider-Man suit because it makes life less risky. He wears it because it makes him feel as though he is able to enter in. To run, fall and get back up. To live fully.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: the cleanest armour usually belongs to the person who never wore it.

The one who stayed on the sidelines.
Played it safe.
Avoided risk.
Never stepped into the mud of real life.

But in Jesus, we’re invited into something better.

We get scratched armour.
Scuffed faith.
Dented hope that’s been tested and proven real.

We get to live.

The armour of God isn’t about hiding from the world, it’s about stepping into it covered, held, and strengthened. It’s about waking up each day and choosing, again, to put on what God has already given us.

Like my son reaching for Spider-Man before he’s even fully awake, may we be people who desire our armour, who know we need it and who refuse to face the day without it.