Superwoman Was Born in Survival Mode

God never called me to be Superwoman. He told me to put on His armor.

Superwoman was born in survival mode.

See, when everything is weighing on your shoulders and everybody is looking at you, it does not matter how you feel. You just know you have to get stuff done.

You find that second wind—but that second wind will take every bit of power you have left.

I used to pray, “Lord, give me the strength of ten Amazon women. And ancestors, I need all your power.”

But even that was not the prayer I needed.

I did not need the strength to carry ten women’s responsibilities. I needed the wisdom to ask God which piece of His armor I needed for the season I was in.

Lord, do I need the helmet of salvation to guard my mind?

Do I need the breastplate of righteousness to protect my heart?

Do I need the shoes of peace to help me keep walking this journey?

Do I need the sword of the Spirit—Your Word—to remind me what is true?

Or do I need the shield of faith because life keeps throwing things at me that I cannot stop on my own?

I did not know how to ask those questions when I was proclaiming myself to be Superwoman. Why would I? I was Superwoman. Everything came through me. Everybody depended on me—and somewhere along the way, I started depending on Superwoman too.

She made me feel validated.

She made me feel powerful.

She made me believe that my value came from how much I could carry, how quickly I could fix it, and how well I could keep functioning while everything around me was falling apart.

But what always came after the performance?

Burnout.

The crash.

Being so tired that I could not make one more decision. The mental fog. The anxiety. The nervousness. Walking the floor. Waking up in the morning already overwhelmed—all because I was trying to be Superwoman when God had never asked that of me.

God said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

That Scripture has been following me for almost a year, and I think I am finally getting it.

I can keep trying to play the role of God, but God keeps reminding me, “That is not your job. That is Mine.”

And just like any good parent, God will sometimes stop arguing with us. He will let us keep running in circles until we finally get tired enough to listen.

He will protect us. He will place bumper rails around us. He will keep us from completely destroying ourselves. But He will also allow us to experience the exhaustion that comes from trying to carry something He never assigned to us.

My lesson now is to stop waiting until I am exhausted before I listen.

Stop waiting until I crash before I surrender.

Stop waiting until I have tried everything in my own strength before I ask God what He wants me to do.

I have learned the lesson: ask God first. Seek God first. Let God be God first.

Everything else I need will come from there.

Now, if it is time to move my house and lift some furniture, then okay—Superwoman, come on. We have work to do.

But spiritually, mentally, and emotionally?

Superwoman has to be put to rest.

I do not need the power to control everything. I need the faith to trust the One who already does.

I do not need to prove that I can carry it all. I need to put on the armor God gave me, follow His instructions, and let Him carry what was never mine to hold.

A Cape and Armor Serve Different Purposes

One thing I have learned about a cape and the armor of God is that they serve two completely different purposes.

A cape is a farce.

A cape is the performance of strength. It is the version of you that needs everybody to see how capable you are. It is you idolizing the strength you think you have—telling yourself, “I can do it all. I can handle everything. I do not need anybody.”

But if I believe everything depends on me, am I really trusting God?

The cape keeps me dependent on my own power. It makes me feel important because I am the one saving everybody, fixing everything, and holding it all together. It may look like strength, but underneath it is fear—the fear that everything will fall apart if I stop performing.

And a cape does not even protect you.

It only covers your back and makes it look like you can fly.

But the armor of God protects every part of me that the battle is trying to attack.

The helmet of salvation guards my mind when anxiety tries to take over.

The breastplate of righteousness protects my heart when disappointment, rejection, and bitterness try to get inside me.

The belt of truth keeps me grounded when fear starts lying to me about who I am and what God said.

The shoes of peace help me keep walking, even when I do not know exactly where this journey is taking me.

The shield of faith protects me from everything being thrown in my direction.

And the sword of the Spirit—the Word of God—gives me something stronger than my feelings to fight with.

When I put on the full armor of God, I have everything I need.

A cape makes me look like somebody I am not. The armor allows me to stand securely in who I truly am.

The cape says, “Look what I can do.”

The armor says, “Look at what God is doing through me.”

The cape is performance. The armor is protection.

The cape needs applause. The armor needs obedience.

The cape makes me believe I am the source. The armor reminds me that God is the source.

That is why this social-media world can be so dangerous. Everybody gets online and acts like they have everything together. People are selling packages, promoting programs, pushing formulas, and acting like they found some secret plug that nobody else knows about.

But a lot of it is simply a cape.

Everybody is trying to make some money. Everybody is trying to look successful. Everybody is trying to present the version of themselves that they believe other people will purchase, follow, or applaud.

But my purpose is not to go out into the world and pretend to be somebody I am not.

If God has called me to use social media to share my testimony, promote my books, teach fitness, encourage women, and walk in my purpose, then that is what I will do. But I do not have to create a false version of myself to do it.

I do not need a cape to fulfill my calling.

I need truth.

I need faith.

I need peace.

I need righteousness.

I need the Word of God.

I need the full armor.

Because the real difference between a cape and the armor of God is the difference between the image I want people to believe and the truth God already knows about me.

A cape protects the image.

God’s armor protects the woman.

Biblical Women Were Powerful—but They Were Still Human

When I look at the women in the Bible, I do not see women wearing capes.

I see women at crossroads.

I see women who were abandoned, rejected, overlooked, sick, uncertain, afraid, exhausted, and in need of God.

Look at the woman with the issue of blood.

For twelve years, she had been bleeding. She had spent everything she had trying to get better, and instead of improving, she became worse. She did not approach Jesus pretending that she had everything under control. She reached for Him because she knew she needed a power greater than her own.

Her healing did not come from pretending to be strong. It came when her faith allowed her to reach for Jesus from her place of need.

Look at the Samaritan woman.

She came to the well carrying a history that Jesus already knew. She did not have to dress up her past, hide her mistakes, or perform perfection for Him. Jesus met her in the truth of her life.

Then that same woman went back and told other people about the Man who knew everything she had done.

She became powerful when she stopped hiding.

Look at Ruth.

Ruth did not know exactly how her future would unfold. She experienced loss. She left what was familiar. She entered a new land and worked with what was available to her.

She did not say, “I can do all things through myself.”

She remained faithful. She stayed obedient. She worked. She followed wise instruction. And God met her in the field.

Look at Hagar.

Hagar was used, mistreated, and sent away. She found herself in the wilderness with her child, believing they were going to die.

Hagar did not need a cape. She needed to know that God could still see her.

And He did.

She called Him El Roi—the God who sees me.

Then there is Esther. She did not run into the king’s presence proclaiming that she was powerful enough to save everybody by herself. She called for a fast. She prepared. She sought God before she approached the danger in front of her.

Some of these women fasted. Some prayed. Some reached. Some waited. Some worked. Some cried out. Some simply remained obedient for one more day.

But they all kept taking their need to God.

That is what made them powerful.

Their humanity did not disqualify them from being used by God. Their need created room for them to experience Him.

Even the Proverbs 31 woman—the virtuous woman—was not operating without God.

Yes, she knew her worth. She understood her gifts. She worked with her hands. She cared for her household. She conducted business. She planned, planted, created, taught, and provided.

But her power was not rooted in the belief that she could do everything by herself.

The foundation of her life was that she feared the Lord.

The Spirit of God was operating through her wisdom, her discipline, her preparation, her compassion, and her ability to recognize what had been placed inside her.

She was blessed. She was highly favored. She was talented and capable—but she was never the source of her own power.

None of these women became powerful by pretending they were never afraid, tired, wounded, or uncertain.

They became powerful because they continued turning toward God in the middle of their humanity.

That is the lesson I am learning now.

I do not have to become less human to become a powerful woman of God.

I do not have to hide my exhaustion.

I do not have to pretend I never become anxious.

I do not have to act like I always know what to do.

I do not have to say, “I can do all things through me.”

The Scripture says, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Not through my title.

Not through my cape.

Not through other people’s applause.

Not through the version of me that feels responsible for saving everybody.

Through Christ.

Biblical women were powerful, but they were still human. Their power was not found in denying their need for God. Their power was found in bringing that need directly to Him.

They did not need capes.

They had faith.

They had obedience.

They had perseverance.

They had God.

And so do I.

My Children Need a Mother Who Does Not Pretend

My children need a mother who does not pretend.

The good thing about what my children see is that Mom may fall down—but she gets back up.

Mom might get tired, but she rests, regroups, and gets back to business.

Mom might become sad, but she finds her way through it.

Mom might not have every answer, but she leads with God every single time.

That is the most important thing I can show them.

My children see me reading my Bible. They see me watching church. They hear me listening to gospel music. They see me pray. They see me seek God when I am confused, celebrate Him when things are going well, and hold on to Him when life starts lifeing.

Because life is going to life for them too.

I cannot protect them from every disappointment, every mistake, every loss, or every season when nothing makes sense. What I can do is make sure they know what to reach for when those seasons come.

They do not need me to show them that I am never tired, afraid, sad, or uncertain. If I pretend that I always have everything together, they may grow up believing that being strong means never struggling.

Then, when life does not go according to plan, they may think something is wrong with them.

They may believe they are failing because they feel overwhelmed.

They may think faith means never having questions.

They may put pressure on themselves to have everything figured out because they believe their mother always did.

But that would not be the truth.

The truth is that I am learning as I go.

I have told my children openly, “I do not know what I am doing half the time—but that is okay. We are going to learn this thing together.”

That does not make me less of a mother. It makes me an honest one.

I am not here to paint a picture like life does not life.

I am not here to pretend that everything is always good.

I am here to show them that despite all things, God is still God.

He is God when the bills are paid, and He is God while we are waiting for the provision.

He is God when the answer is yes, and He is God when the answer is not yet.

He is God today, and He will still be God tomorrow.

The same God who brought us through before is the same God who will be there when my children face battles of their own.

That is why Matthew 6:33 has become so important to me: “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

Seek God first.

Not after I have exhausted myself.

Not after I have tried to control every possible outcome.

Not after Superwoman has crashed and burned.

Seek Him first.

Now my children can see the peace that comes from that. They can see the patience developing in me. They can watch situations work out in our favor, and they know why.

They know I am not pretending.

They witnessed the pressure.

They saw the uncertainty.

They watched me pray through it.

Now they can also see God moving through it.

They do not have to psych themselves into believing that their mother always had everything together, so they must have everything together too.

No.

They can say, “My mom did not always know what to do, but she knew Who to seek. She rested when she was tired. She prayed when she was afraid. She cried when she was hurting. Then she got up and handled what God placed in front of her.”

My children need a mom.

They do not need Superwoman.

They need me in the right spiritual, mental, and emotional condition so I can truly be present for them. They need me to teach them how to put on the armor of God—not how to hide underneath a cape.

That is how I guide them.

That is how I break chains.

Even while we are standing in the middle of a generational cycle, I am teaching them how to respond differently.

I may not be able to erase everything we inherited, but I can change what I demonstrate.

I can show them that strength includes rest.

That faith includes honesty.

That healing includes falling down and getting back up.

And that no matter what happens, we do not have to pretend to be powerful.

We know where our power comes from.