Strength That is Not Our Own

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.”- Eph. 6:10

There is a reason why Paul does not begin with armor. He begins with strength. Not our strength, but God’s. Before we take up the belt of truth or the shield of faith, before we contemplate what it means to quench flaming darts or wield the sword of the Spirit, Paul calls us to do something profoundly simple and profoundly difficult: to be strong in the Lord. That is, to be strengthened by One who is not us. To receive strength, rather than muster it. To lean entirely upon divine might rather than human ability.

And this is precisely where spiritual warfare separates the immature from the mature. It is not first in knowledge of doctrine or ability to teach, though both have their place. It is not first in emotional zeal or outward activity, though both can serve a purpose. It is in this: where do you go for strength? Upon what do you lean when you need help and feel you cannot stand?

Paul’s command here, “be strong in the Lord” is deceptively easy to quote and often misunderstood in practice. The original Greek verb endynamoō is in the passive imperative: it does not mean “strengthen yourself,” but “allow yourself to be strengthened.” This is not an internal pep talk or spiritual self-help. It is a call to cast yourself entirely upon the strength of Another. It is the kind of command only grace can obey. And it is impossible apart from union with Christ.

To be strong in the Lord is not to have more stamina than others. It is not to push through exhaustion or to refuse help from others. True Christian strength is not a clenched jaw and a squared shoulder, it is the bowed head and the open hand. It is not more effort, but more dependence. It is not increasing one’s spiritual productivity, but increasing one’s conscious reliance on the Spirit of God, reliance on His promises and prayer. For many, this is a hard truth. Our pride resists it. The flesh loathes it. But the Lord insists upon it.

We are a people taught by the world that strength looks like independence, confidence, control. From a young age, we are trained to stand on our own, make our own way, prove ourselves, defend ourselves, exalt ourselves. But in the kingdom of God, all such strength is weakness. In the kingdom, true strength begins with weakness that is acknowledged, confessed, and surrendered. That is why Paul would write elsewhere:

“I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
– 2 Cor. 12:9

When Paul prayed for the thorn in his flesh to be removed, pleading three times for deliverance, God did not grant his request. He gave something better: grace. He revealed that His power is perfected not in Paul’s gifting, not in his credentials, not in his revelations or apostolic authority, but in his weakness. The weaker Paul became, the more clearly Christ’s power rested on him. What a strange kind of strength this is. What a holy paradox.

This is what separates the natural man from the spiritual. The natural man depends on himself, even in the name of Christ. The spiritual man depends on Christ, even in the face of himself. The one leans into performance, the other into prayer. The one exalts control, the other embraces surrender. And the difference between these two is often seen most clearly in battle.

Spiritual warfare reveals the source of our strength. When temptations come, when despair knocks, when discouragement clouds, when fear rises, the question is never simply, Will I fight? but rather, What will I fight with? If our weapons are carnal, if our energy is self-derived, we will crumble under pressure. But if we are rooted in the strength of the Lord, we will stand, even if trembling. As C.H. Spurgeon said, “We are never stronger than when we are sensible of our own weakness and rely upon Christ’s strength.”

Consider again the phrasing: “in the Lord and in the strength of His might.” Paul piles up terms to emphasize the point. He could have said simply, “Be strong.” But he doesn’t. He repeats himself with intentional redundancy. He stacks strength upon strength. Not only are we to be strong in the Lord—we are to be strong in the strength of His might. These are not synonyms. They are layers. The Greek words kratos (strength) and ischus (might) both point us back to Ephesians 1:19–20:

“…the immeasurable greatness of His power toward us who believe, according to the working of His great might, that He worked in Christ when He raised Him from the dead…”

This is resurrection power. Ascension power. Power that defeats death, shatters the grave, enthrones the Son above every name that is named. And Paul tells us, this is the strength by which you are to stand. Not your resolve. Not your understanding. Not your will. But the very power that raised Jesus from the dead is the strength offered to those who are in Him.

What does this mean practically?

It means that the ability to stand in warfare, to endure suffering, to resist temptation, to persevere in faithfulness, is not something we conjure, but something we receive. It means we wake up each day not trying harder but trusting deeper. It means we must begin with prayer, real prayer. It means we open the Word not as a box to check but as our lifeline. It means we confess our weakness freely, because Christ’s strength is made perfect precisely there. It means we do not despise our inadequacy, but turn it into worship. We do not deny our frailty, we depend on God within it.

And it means, perhaps most personally, that we do not have to pretend to be strong. There is no virtue in the illusion of strength. There is only strength in the Lord, and He does not require us to impress Him. He requires us to come to Him. He is not asking us to prove ourselves, but to draw near.

When we do, when we abide in Him, dwell in His Word, cling to His promises, cry out in faith, His strength becomes ours. Not metaphorically, but actually. Not emotionally, but spiritually. Not as a moment of relief, but as a means of survival. This is what we must learn before we even pick up the armor. Without this strength, the armor is heavy and unused. With this strength, the armor becomes a shield, a covering, a readiness.

This is why we begin here:

Be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might.

Because anything less will fail. But Christ never does.