“Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” — Ephesians 6:11 (KJV)

Out here on the porch, I’ve learned something about preparation. You don’t wait until the storm rolls in to fix the roof, you make sure it’s ready before the clouds gather. That’s exactly what Paul was saying when he told us to put on the whole armor of God.

Life will throw its punches: temptation, discouragement, doubt, delay, but the child of God doesn’t have to face any of it unprotected. The armor of God isn’t something we wear to look holy; it’s what we put on to stand strong. 

Truth buckles around your waist. Righteousness guards your heart. Peace steadies your steps. Faith shields your soul. Salvation covers your mind. And the Word of God, that sharp sword of the Spirit, reminds the enemy that victory has already been won.

So today, before you step into battle, suit up. You’re not fighting for victory, you’re standing in it. Christ already secured it at the cross.

Don’t leave your armor hanging on the wall. Put it on, pray it on, and walk in the strength that only comes from the Lord.

“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” — John 14:6 (KJV)

Out here on the porch, I’ve learned that life offers a lot of directions — some look easy, some look exciting, and some promise shortcuts. But Jesus didn’t come to point out a path; He came to be the path. He said, “I am the way.” Not a way. The way.

When the road feels confusing, when truth feels slippery in a world full of opinions, and when your spirit feels worn out — come back to this: Jesus is steady. He doesn’t shift with the weather. He doesn’t cancel you when you stumble. He just keeps being the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

If you’ve lost your direction, He’ll lead you.

If you’re tired of lies, He’ll tell you the truth.

If your spirit feels half-alive, He’ll breathe new life into you.

Sometimes the most powerful prayer you can whisper is, “Lord, show me the way — and help me stay in it.”

Because when you walk with Jesus, you don’t just find life — you find your life.

“Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest.” — Matthew 9:37–38 (KJV)

Out here in the backyard, you can almost smell it when harvest time rolls around—the air changes. The fields turn golden, the tractors start moving, and there’s a sense of urgency. Jesus looked out across the fields of humanity and said, “The harvest is plenteous.” In other words, the world is ripe—ready for hope, ready for healing, ready for Him.

But then He said something that ought to stir our hearts: “The labourers are few.” The problem isn’t with the harvest; it’s with the hands. God’s not short on souls to save—He’s waiting on servants who’ll say, “Here am I, Lord. Send me.”

So today, instead of asking God to move somebody else, what if we prayed, “Lord, move me.”

Help me see the hurting. Help me notice the needy. Help me bring light to my little corner of the field.

The world doesn’t need more spectators—it needs sowers, reapers, and encouragers willing to roll up their sleeves and love people in Jesus’ name.

The harvest is ready, friend. The question is—are we?