I went for a naked run the other day.

Before your imagination runs too far ahead, let me explain, “naked” means running without any devices. No phone, no watch, no distractions. Just you and the steady rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement.

My ideal running temperature is between 48 and 52 degrees — a narrow window where I live. Last year, I counted… it happened exactly 16 times during running hours. So when the stars align, you take advantage.

That day was perfect. Fifty degrees, bright blue skies, barely a breeze. I just wanted to enjoy it; the quiet, the rhythm, the simplicity.

Oh, and that’s the day I had a fantastic idea for a blog.

It felt timely, important, like it could really matter to someone. Normally, I would’ve quickly dictated it into my phone or watch so I wouldn’t forget. But not that day. That day, I was running naked. I wasn’t worried though. This idea was too good to forget.

It was a perfect three miles, with the added bonus of this brilliant idea.

Which I promptly forgot the second I got home.

Gone. Completely gone. To this day, I haven’t been able to pull it back out of the deep recesses of my mind. Honestly, an argument could be made… this is exactly why you shouldn’t run naked.

And as funny as that sounds, it’s not all that different from how we sometimes live. We move through our days confident we’ve got everything handled. We stay busy, checking boxes, making plans, pushing forward—assuming we won’t lose what matters most. But somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, we start operating on our own strength instead of seeking Jesus first.

I know this because I’ve lived it.

I’m a bit impulsive by nature. I always joke that I don’t dip my toes into the water, I cannonball in and figure it out on the way down. And honestly, that approach has worked for me, until it hasn’t.

A few years ago, I was offered a new job. I hadn’t planned on leaving where I was, and at first, I even turned it down. But they pursued me, and if I’m being honest, my ego jumped in faster than my prayer life could catch up. So I said yes.

By the first day, I could already tell something was off. The people were great, but there was a level of division and dysfunction that just didn’t make sense for an organization that was supposed to be successful.

At one point, I texted a friend at a sister facility, venting my frustration over the politics. I’ll never forget her response:

“This organization has been running like this for nearly 200 years. I don’t think it will ever change.”

What?! I left a good job for this? And no one thinks it can change? Ugh.

And then—I finally did what I should have done from the beginning. I prayed.

I wish I could say everything turned around overnight, but it didn’t. The first two years felt a lot like those first few weeks. But slowly, through a lot of prayer and a lot of time with Jesus, things began to shift.

By year three, I could see walls starting to come down. By year five, there were signs of real, new growth. And by year seven, the transformation was undeniable.

God didn’t just sustain me, He allowed me to be part of the change. And I still think about this sometimes; what would have been different if I had prayed first?

I do believe that’s where I was meant to be in that season. But I walked into it like I was on my own, like I had everything I needed, until I finally stopped and invited God into it.

In Luke 9:1–6, Jesus sends out His disciples to do the work of the Kingdom. He tells them to take nothing with them, no staff, no bag, no bread, no money, not even an extra shirt.

They went with no provision, but not without purpose. They went without supplies, but not without authority. They were completely dependent on Him. And that’s the difference.

Because while it may look like they were going out “naked,” they weren’t alone. They were sent, equipped and covered by Jesus Himself.

And today, we have something even more incredible, the gift of the Holy Spirit. We are never sent out into our lives empty-handed or alone. We are guided, strengthened, and sustained every step of the way.

So maybe the lesson is simpler than we think: Don’t run naked, not in life and not in faith. Because we were never meant to do this on our own. We were meant to run with Him.