equipped

Life has a really good way of throwing punches — punches when you’re sad, punches when you’re down, punches when you’re sailing in still waters, and my favorite… punches when you’re happy.
Those tend to come the minute something good happens. The kind that makes you start wondering if good things can really exist without something bad sneaking up from behind to take you out. 
Even as a child of God, it can be hard to handle the punches when they come from all sides and there seems to be no end in sight.

There’s a distinct memory that always comes to mind during seasons like this. It takes me back to middle school dodgeball. Two teams lined up on opposite sides of the gym. The whistle would blow, and everyone would scramble for as many balls as they could, immediately targeting one or two people.
I was usually that person.
No matter how fast I ran or how high I jumped, ball after ball seemed to find me. I was an easy target. Back then, I would just laugh because what else do you do? Either you laugh, or you spiral into self-pity. As a kid, you don’t really understand the why behind it. You just know you’re getting hit and then you’re out of the game.
As I’ve grown older, and grown in Christ, I’ve started to see that image as a metaphor for everyday life. Just when things begin to go right, life throws a punch. And once the punches start, they don’t usually stop at one. It can feel like a never-ending dodgeball game. No matter how fast you run, which direction you turn, or how hard you try to avoid it, the balls keep making contact, trying to knock you down and tag you out.
It’s easy to lose your line of sight when that happens.
But just like middle school dodgeball, every game eventually ends. And when it does, a new one begins.
It really is about perspective and where you choose to find joy.
James 1:2–3 says, “When troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.”
I see those troubles as the balls in a dodgeball game. Each hit is our faith being tested, and with every impact, our endurance has a chance to grow stronger.
The season of life I’m currently in has me questioning a lot of things, all in good spirit. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy. I’ve had more conversations with God lately than I can count because I genuinely want to walk in obedience. I just sometimes struggle to understand what obedience looks like in real time.
It’s not that I don’t trust God. It’s that the punches keep coming, and I start wondering if I’m really the right person to handle them.
A few nights ago, God placed a word on my heart that hasn’t left me. I’ve seen it show up in my life, in conversations with friends, in moments with coworkers. The word is simple:
Equipped.
The trials we walk through, the punches life throws, the moments of doubt or unbelief, they are all opportunities for great joy, just as James says. They test our faith. They stretch our endurance. They grow us.
God would not place us where He has us if we were not equipped for it. And He certainly won’t abandon us when our flesh whispers that we can’t do it. When we question whether we’re strong enough, capable enough, or faithful enough, He remains steady.
If I’ve learned anything in my walk with Christ, it’s this: God uses the most ordinary people to accomplish the most extraordinary things for His glory.
When we say, “I can’t,” God gently reminds us, “You can, through Me.”
That’s hard to believe in the middle of the game. That’s why we have to write scripture on our hearts before the whistle blows. So when the moment comes, truth is already rooted inside us.
Philippians 4:13 says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Not because we are strong but because He is.
Lately, I’ve felt the weight of unbelief, doubt, and even the fear of change. I once heard someone say that when you feel that way, a simple prayer is enough:
“God, help me in my unbelief.”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed that in the last 90 days. And yet, every time, God has shown Himself to be a good Father. He meets me in it. He strengthens me in it.
What’s humbling is that God keeps showing up in the most ordinary ways. For a while, I wasn’t seeing Him because I assumed that if God was trying to get my attention, it would be loud. A moment I couldn’t possibly miss.
But this past weekend at a women’s conference, someone said something that shifted my perspective:
“I invite the glorious love of God into the mundane.”
That line stayed with me.
God doesn’t need fancy.
God doesn’t need perfection.
God doesn’t need you at your best.
God wants you where you are.
In dodgeball, we get hit. Our instinct is to shield ourselves, run, and lick our wounds. Ball after ball, we want to retreat. To accept defeat. To sit in self-pity.
But we have a choice in that moment.
We can say, “I trust You, God.”
And when we do, we begin to realize something powerful: the greatest gift is that He allows us to play the game at all. There isn’t a single ball coming that He doesn’t already see. There isn’t a curve He isn’t already ahead of. Nothing catches Him off guard.
As long as we’ve invited Him onto the court with us, no matter how many hits come, we can still find joy, not in the pain, but in His presence.
2 Corinthians 5:19 reminds us that we are ambassadors for Christ, called to encourage others to be reconciled to God. And the truth is, we cannot lead others somewhere we have never walked ourselves.
The trials.
The doubt.
The endurance.
The obedience.
They shape us for purpose.
Keeping Christ at the center, in the hits and in the healing,  reminds us who we are and why we’re here.
We are equipped.