Let me start with a picture, the way I always do. I want you to see your ancient ancestor standing at the edge of a cold morning. The air bites at their skin. Their breath hangs in the frosty air. They have not eaten since yesterday, and there is no promise of food today. The sun is climbing, and soon the heat will press down hard on their shoulders as they walk for miles across rough country. Cold in the morning, heat by midday, hunger the whole way through. Hardship on every side. And yet that person rises, and moves, and lives, and grows stronger through every bit of it. Their body does not break under the difficulty. Their body was built by the difficulty.

Now set that picture next to a modern one. Picture most of us, and be honest about it. We wake in a home held at the perfect temperature, never too cold, never too hot. We eat the moment we feel the faintest whisper of hunger, and often long before that. We avoid every discomfort we possibly can. If it is chilly, we turn up the heat. If it is warm, we turn on the cool air. If our stomach grumbles, we reach for a snack within minutes. We have wrapped ourselves in comfort from the moment we wake until the moment we sleep. And then we wonder why we feel so soft, so fragile, so easily rattled by the smallest hardship life throws our way.