Only Your Armor Fits

I have a good friend and mentor who spent nearly twenty years as a pastor but still felt like he wasn’t following his exact calling. He believed there had to be more he could do to help people in a real, tangible way. Against conventional wisdom, he took a leap of faith. He stepped away from the pulpit and went into the bowels of Hell to snatch the innocent from the filthy depths—literally.

My friend realized he was too old to enlist in the military but wanted to serve in a similar capacity. He put himself through a litany of Department of Defense schools, learning counterterrorism, surveillance, rescue, and combat shooting. He learned tactics, got physically fit, and became the shepherd he wanted to be.

Using his newfound skill set, he found himself mired in back alleys and brothels in Asia, Africa, and South America, rescuing children from sexual slavery. He rejected the doubters and put action to his faith. He literally became a light in a very dark place. His mission offered hope to the hopeless and, at times, violent justice to those who wished to do evil.

While we were talking on a recent phone call, he was wrestling with the scope of his calling and what that looks like now that he’s getting older. During the conversation, he said something that really struck home. People often see his path—his capabilities and training, both tactical and theological—and make suggestions about what he “should” be doing. He said he just smiles and nods, knowing that the calling God placed on his life doesn’t look like anything “normal” people will ever understand. He’s called for a specific purpose all the same. His mission is his own.

He said, “You’ve got to wear your own armor.”

All too often, people make suggestions out of their own ignorance or presuppositions, but at the core, they’re speaking from a place of fear. They don’t want you to do something they wouldn’t or couldn’t do, so they cast shade or doubt when your passion differs from the easy path.

We’ve all heard the story of David and Goliath, and our focus is usually on how little ole David was able to kill Goliath with just a sling and a stone. But the part that always gets me is when King Saul, out of his own fearfulness, allows a child to do what he was supposed to do. He clothes David in his personal armor and weaponry, and it swallows David whole.

David reverts to his training. He relies on his own faith and calling, shaped by lived experience. He sheds the armor that wasn’t his and grabs a staff, a sling, and five smooth stones—the tools necessary for his trade. Goliath was just another predator in the way of his flock that had to be culled. He’d been preparing for that moment his whole life out in the pastures tending to his sheep.

Saul meant well when he tried to give David advice and equipment for the task at hand. The thing is, had Saul been capable of completing the mission, he’d have done it himself. He let fear and doubt rob him of personal glory and almost robbed the next generation by discounting David’s calling. His counsel was useless. His armor was worthless if he wasn’t willing to wear it himself.

It’s easy to let other people’s fears dictate our destiny, but you’ve got to stand on your own calling, find your own purpose, and wear your own dang armor. No one can wear it for you.

So next time someone tries to push their fears or faithlessness onto your specific vision or calling, just smile, nod, and then do your own thing. They mean well, but they don’t see what you see and likely can’t do what you can do. You’re the person in the arena—they’re not. We see how it worked out for David, so I have faith that if you’ve got a mission specific to you, you’ll find a way to get it done despite what the naysayers say.

I’m proud to be friends with people of both faith and action—rugged men and women who reject the status quo expected of them. People who don’t play it safe and instead live their personal truths despite what society says. I hope one day to look back and count myself worthy among their company as I find my own way through life and faith.

My calling looks wildly different from that of a typical person, but it’s mine nonetheless. I feel like I’ve lived many different lives and collected experiences and traumas along the way to bolster my personal armor and give myself one heck of a story. All of these tools are rocks in my sling—weapons for a future war. As long as I remember that I can’t wear someone else’s armor, and that I have to man up when it’s time to fight, I think things will be okay in the end.

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Stan Lake is a writer, photographer, and filmmaker currently living in Bethania, North Carolina with his wife Jess and their house full of animals. He split his time growing up between chasing wildlife and screaming on stages in hardcore bands you’ve never heard of. He has been published by Dead Reckoning Collective, The Havok Journal, Reptiles Magazine, Lethal Minds Journal, and many others. He filmed and directed a documentary called “Hammer Down” about his 2005 deployment in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom in with Alpha Battery 5-113^th of the NC Army National Guard. You can find his books, collected works, and social media accounts at www.stanlakecreates.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.