thechristiantechnerd

One Sunrise at a Time

Posted on August 24, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

As I sit down to write this, I can still feel the tension in my shoulders from all the stress I carried around like a badge of honor. I didn’t sleep well last night. My mind kept spinning with “what ifs”—what if this doesn’t work out? What if that falls through? What if I’m not enough? The future felt like this giant foggy unknown pressing in on me like a weight.

But then, the Holy Spirit gently whispered to my soul this morning as I opened my Bible to Matthew 6:34:

“Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

And I felt that Word hit me like a wake-up call.

Jesus commanded us not to worry. Not suggested. Not advised. Commanded. That’s where I feel the rub—how often we act like worry is just a personality trait instead of a form of disobedience. We normalize anxiety and stress like they’re part of being human, but Jesus calls us to a higher standard. I felt convicted, not condemned. He doesn’t shame us for worrying, but He definitely doesn’t coddle our excuses either. That’s love. Real love.

It’s almost like I heard Him saying to me: “Daughter, I didn’t design you to carry the weight of tomorrow. I give you strength for TODAY. Walk in it.”

Later, I was drawn to Psalm 68:19, where it says:

“Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”

Daily. Not weekly. Not monthly. Not “when it gets really bad.” DAILY. That means today. That means now. That means He’s not ignoring the things that keep me up at night or the pressures I pretend don’t bother me. He’s right here, ready to carry the weight I keep trying to muscle through alone. Why do I keep forgetting that?

I also reflected on Matthew 6:11, part of the Lord’s Prayer:

“Give us today our daily bread.”

Today’s. Not tomorrow’s. Not next month’s. Not “bread for when I’m married” or “bread for when the job comes through” or “bread for when everything makes sense.” TODAY’S bread. That’s what I’m supposed to pray for. That’s all I’m promised.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: sometimes I don’t want just today’s portion. I want to see the whole staircase. I want certainty. I want control. And God, in His mercy, denies me that because He’s more interested in my trust than my temporary peace of mind.

There’s a quote I came across today that punched me in the gut (in the best way):

“Do not let the worries of tomorrow affect your relationship with God today.”

That hit hard. Because how often do I do exactly that? How often do I let anxiety put distance between me and the One who’s holding it all together? I’ll skip prayer time because I’m “too overwhelmed,” not realizing the very thing I need is time in His presence.

So here’s what I did today: I put down my phone. I got on my knees. And I prayed this:

Lord Jesus, I surrender my illusions of control. I place today in Your hands, fully, completely, with trembling trust. Help me to stop dragging tomorrow’s troubles into today’s grace. Help me to see You clearly in the chaos, to believe You’re good even when I’m uncertain. Give me strength for today’s battle, joy for today’s blessings, and peace for today’s journey. You are my portion. You are enough. Teach me to live one day at a time, walking step by step with You. Amen.

I don’t have all the answers. But I don’t need to. That’s the beauty of this walk. I just need to hold His hand.

To anyone reading this, maybe you’re like me—overthinking, overfunctioning, overstressing. Hear me when I say this with love and a bit of holy boldness: Stop it. Jesus died for more than your eternal salvation; He died to give you abundant life today (John 10:10). Not someday. Not “when things calm down.” Today.

So, what’s stealing your joy today? What’s trying to rob your peace? Is it a deadline? A diagnosis? A disappointment? A delay? Bring it to Him. All of it. He can take it. He wants it.

You don’t have to fake peace. You can receive it.

You don’t have to carry the weight. He already did on Calvary.

You don’t have to know the whole plan. Just know the Planner.

I’m learning that living one day at a time isn’t about laziness or apathy—it’s about radical faith. It’s about saying, “God, I trust You with what I cannot see, and I will be faithful with what I can.”

And if all I do today is love Him well, lean on Him deeply, and walk with Him closely—then that is more than enough.

So, here’s to tomorrow… whenever it comes. But for now?
Today belongs to Jesus. And so do I.

When Fear is Faithful

Posted on August 24, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

This weekend, my heart is heavy and clear all at once.

Heavy, because I still wrestle with fear. Not the kind of fear that reveres God — the kind of fear that distrusts Him. The kind that whispers lies, not holy awe. The kind that tells me if I let go of something I love, He’ll take it and never give it back. The kind that makes God seem like a thief in the night instead of the Good Shepherd.

And yet clear — because I know better. I know Him.

I’ve walked with Him. I’ve cried in His presence. I’ve seen His hand in moments where no one else could’ve pulled me out. I’ve watched prayers come alive in real time. So why is it that when He nudges me to surrender, I panic like a child losing her favorite toy?

I’m a college graduate, living on my own, and still clinging to my childish insecurities when God’s asking me for childlike trust.

Jesus said in Matthew 18:3, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” And children — real children — trust. They ask questions, yes. They may cry when things change, sure. But they believe their daddy will protect them, feed them, provide for them. Why can’t I?https://youtu.be/VzY6dwn3Z_U

When I look in the mirror, I see a woman who talks a lot about faith but gets nervous when faith is tested. I say God is my Provider, yet I count the cost before I obey. I say God is good, but I hesitate like He’s about to trick me. Let me be real: I still fear that giving Him everything means losing everything.

But is that who He is?

Lord, help me. Remind me You are not a manipulator. You are a Father. A good Father.

I’m ashamed to even admit this fear out loud, but David did it in the Psalms — so maybe it’s not shameful, maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s sacred space when I take my fears to the throne instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Psalm 34:4 says, “I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” And I feel that deep. My fears are not always from logic; they’re from wounds. Maybe from childhood. Maybe from bad theology. Maybe from control issues I haven’t even fully admitted yet.

But the fear of the Lord? Now that’s a different story.

The sacred fear of God is freeing. It snaps the chains of every other fear. It breaks idols. It brings clarity. It’s not the fear that makes me hide — it’s the kind that makes me bow.

And if I’m honest, that kind of fear feels more foreign than I want to admit. Most Christians talk about fearing God like it’s a formula to get wisdom, but few live like His majesty could make you tremble and worship at the same time. That’s what I want — not to be afraid of God, but to be in awe of Him.

Because when I fear God rightly, I don’t fear losing control. I surrender it.

When I fear God rightly, I stop clinging to my small plans and start chasing His.

When I fear God rightly, I trust that anything He asks me to lay down is either being upgraded, protected, or purified.

It’s like James 1:17 says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” That scripture hits me like a wave. He does not change. I do. My heart shifts. My feelings change. My confidence wavers. But His intentions are always love.

So when I think He’s about to “take something away” from me, what I’m really fearing is His character. And that’s not holy. That’s just me projecting my broken human trust onto a flawless, faithful God.

Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me for thinking You are like man — unpredictable, withholding, hard to please. Forgive me for doubting Your goodness just because I can’t predict Your timing.

What kind of God sends His Son to die for my sin, and then plays games with my destiny?

None. That’s not who You are.

You are consistent. You are kind. You are patient when I panic, and gentle when I wrestle. Your conviction doesn’t crush — it calls me higher. You discipline me not to destroy me but to deliver me. Hebrews 12:6 says, “The Lord disciplines the one He loves.” You only prune what You intend to grow.

So if You’re asking me to hand You the thing in my hand — the relationship, the career dream, the timeline, the idea of how things “should” be — then maybe You’re trying to free me, not hurt me.

Maybe this sacred fear is the beginning of freedom.

And maybe, just maybe, the enemy has been lying to me: telling me fear of God is scary when it’s actually safe. Telling me surrender is loss when it’s really access. Telling me God is withholding when He’s just preparing. I’m done listening to those lies.

God, here I am. I give You my trust again. With open hands. With a heart that still trembles a little, but a soul that says YES. Yes to surrender. Yes to reverence. Yes to fearing You rightly so I don’t fear anything else.

I want to live in awe of You, not anxiety.

Let the sacred fear of the Lord set me free from needing to control my life. I want to trust You like a daughter trusts her Father — with joy, not suspicion.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Click here to Uplift Your Spirit with these Short Morning Prayers!

Stillness That Strengthens: When God Asks Us to Wait

Posted on August 22, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

Some days, I just want to run.

I want to escape the waiting, the wrestling, the in-between moments where God seems quiet and I’m left staring at my own restless heart. Running feels easier. Running feels like control. Running feels like I’m making something happen instead of sitting powerless.

But then there are these words that come back to me like a steady heartbeat: Repentance. Rest. Quiet. Trust.

They sound so simple. Almost cliché. But when I’m caught in the middle of life’s storms, those words feel like breath—sometimes even a lifeline.

And yet, they are so contrary to human nature.

I mean, who naturally repents? Who naturally rests when life demands that we perform, prove, push, and hustle? Who naturally stays quiet when the world screams for our attention, our anxiety, our panic? Who naturally trusts when every part of us is screaming, “Fix this now! Fix this now!”

Not me.

But here’s the honest truth: I need to repent, rest, be quiet, and trust. Because without these, I spiral into chaos, doubt, and fear. The kind of fear that feels like a noose tightening around my soul.

Repentance is hard. It requires me to look honestly at my sin—my impatience, my distrust, my desire to control. It means admitting I don’t have all the answers. It means laying down my pride and my so-called strength and saying, “God, I’ve been wrong. I need You.”

Psalm 51:10 says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” I cling to that promise every time I repent—because I know my heart is a mess without His cleansing.

And rest? Rest feels like a luxury I can’t afford. The world tells me rest means weakness. But God says something else.

In Matthew 11:28-29, Jesus invites us: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” That rest isn’t just physical. It’s spiritual. Emotional. A surrender to His peace that surpasses understanding.

Quiet is nearly impossible in my loud, distracted world. But God calls me to stillness. Psalm 46:10 commands, “Be still, and know that I am God.” To be still is not passive. It’s powerful. It’s faith in action. It’s saying, “I will wait. I will listen. I will trust Your voice over the chaos.”

And trust… oh, how I struggle with trust. Trust means giving God the right to write my story, even when the ending looks uncertain or scary. Proverbs 3:5-6 urges me, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” But trusting when I don’t see, when I don’t understand, is the hardest thing.

Waiting on God requires me to submit myself to His will—whatever it holds. Even when it means discomfort, delay, or disappointment.

But here’s the thing: there is a reward for waiting. Not always the reward I expect, but a reward nonetheless. In waiting, I encounter His grace—unmerited favor that covers my doubts and failures. I experience His compassion—tender mercies that heal my hurting heart. And I witness His justice—perfect and righteous, unfolding at the perfect time.

Isaiah 40:31 says, “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” That promise is not just poetic. It’s a lifeline for my weary soul.

So, am I willing to repent so I can rest in who God is right now? Am I willing to be quiet when everything in me wants to scream? Am I willing to trust even when I don’t see the full picture?

Lord, help me. Help me to surrender my impatience, my fear, and my control. Help me to wait—not just in passing time but in faith. Help me to find peace in Your timing, not mine.

I’m learning that waiting on God isn’t about inactivity or defeat. It’s a deliberate, active posture of faith. It’s choosing to stay put in His presence even when my soul demands to run away.

I have to believe the reward is worth it. Because if waiting on God leads to deeper grace, stronger faith, and a heart more like His, then I want to wait.

Sometimes I get scared, though. Scared that my waiting is wasted. Scared that nothing will change. Scared that I’m missing out on something better.

But the Bible reminds me that God’s timing is perfect.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” I want to lean into that truth, even when seasons feel long or dark.

I want to rest in the fact that my God is sovereign. That He holds all things in His hands. That He is not caught off guard by my fears or my struggles. That He is working all things for my good and His glory.

Romans 8:28 is my anchor: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” Waiting is part of the “all things.”

So tonight, I choose to stop running.

I choose repentance over pride.

I choose rest over striving.

I choose quiet over chaos.

I choose trust over fear.

Sovereign Lord, I come to You in my weakness, in my impatience, in my restless heart. I ask for Your grace to cover me. Your compassion to comfort me. Your justice to prevail in the situations that feel overwhelming.

Help me to wait on You without wavering. Help me to find peace not in the absence of difficulty, but in the presence of You.

Give me strength to stand firm. Wisdom to know when to act and when to be still. Courage to surrender my plans to Your perfect will.

I do not want to run away anymore. I want to run to You.

Teach me to wait well.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Waiting on God is hard, Diary. But I am learning it’s necessary. It’s sacred. It’s transformative.

So here I am, still waiting, still believing, still trusting.

With all my heart!

The Armor of Courage: Christian Faith Over Fear

Posted on August 22, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

Today, fear tried to crawl back into my head again. I felt it creeping in through the cracks of my morning silence, wrapping its cold fingers around my chest before I even got out of bed. It whispered lies before I’d even had coffee.

It said I wasn’t ready.
That I was going to mess this up.
That I’d never be enough.

Fear. Again.

It’s not just an emotion—let’s be real. It’s a strategy. A trap. A distraction straight from the pit. I know it when I feel it now. I used to call it “overthinking,” or “being realistic.” But now I see it for what it is: spiritual warfare.

And I’m over it.

The Word says in Philippians 4:6, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

I don’t want fear to have any room in my life. Not in my decisions. Not in my relationships. Not in my dreams. Fear muddies my judgment, distorts my view, and stifles my joy. It’s not just uncomfortable—it’s destructive.

I had to pause this morning and confront it head-on. Not coddle it. Not analyze it to death. CONFRONT it.

So I asked myself THREE questions……….
❶What am I afraid of?
❷What’s the trigger?
❸What lie am I believing?

Turns out I was afraid of failing in front of people I love. I had a presentation coming up at work and the pressure was making me spiral. Why? Because I started telling myself I needed to be perfect to be accepted. Again. That lie has teeth. But it’s a lie nonetheless.

And God is not the author of lies.

So I prayed. Out loud. With urgency. Not because I’m holy, but because I’m desperate. I told God, “Lord, I don’t want to live like this. I want to walk in Your peace, not in fear. I want the kind of courage that only comes from knowing who I am in You.”

I laid it all out. My trembling heart. My racing thoughts. My self-doubt. I gave Him the entire mess. Because that’s what He wants. Not perfection—surrender.

The moment I started talking to Jesus, the fog began to clear. My emotions didn’t shift right away, but my focus did. And sometimes that’s the bigger miracle.

I felt Him say, “Daughter, you are mine. You don’t have to perform to be loved. You don’t have to impress anyone to be accepted. Stand in My strength, not yours.”

Whew. That hit me deep.

Matthew 10:31 came to mind like a sword: “So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.”

Do I believe that? Do I believe I’m valuable to God even when I don’t get everything right? That He’s watching me, caring for me, holding my hand even when I feel shaky?

YES.
I HAVE to believe that.
Because if I don’t trust His love, I will drown in anxiety.

Fear tells me, “What if it all goes wrong?”
But FAITH says, “Even if it does, God is still good, and He’s still with me.”

Proverbs 1:33 reminds me, “But whoever listens to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm.”

There it is. That’s the real armor: listening to God. Tuning out the noise of the enemy and tuning into His voice. That’s where courage lives. Not in hyping myself up. Not in overpreparing. In listening to my Father and believing His Word.

I know I have authority in Jesus’ name to reject fear.
I don’t have to entertain it, reason with it, or invite it in like a guest.
I can slam the door in its face.

Jesus didn’t die for me to live shackled to anxiety.
He died to set me FREE.

And if I’ve learned anything this year—it’s that freedom is a choice.
Every single day.
Every moment.
Every thought.

So I’m choosing it again today.

Fear might knock on my door, but I don’t have to answer.
I’ve got spiritual armor now.
I’ve got my sword—the Word.
I’ve got truth etched into my bones.
I’m not walking in weakness anymore.

God, I renounce fear in the name of Jesus. I refuse to partner with anxiety, confusion, or doubt. You are not a God of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). Fill me with Your peace that surpasses all understanding. Show me where my thinking needs to change. Help me root every fear in Your truth, and not in my feelings. I trust You, Lord. I trust Your timing, Your plan, and Your heart for me. Clothe me in the armor of courage. Amen.

I may not be wise, but I’ve lived enough life to know fear is a liar—and God is faithful.

The war between faith and fear is daily. But I am NOT defenseless.
The enemy doesn’t get to write the narrative—I already know the ending.
Victory is mine in Christ. Period.

Now I’m going to get up, finish my coffee, and walk into this day like the daughter of the King that I am.

Because fear doesn’t get the final word. Faith does.

The Shepherd Knows His Sheep By Name

Posted on August 21, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord, a few days ago, someone mispronounced my name for the fifth time in a row during a company zoom meeting. And even though it was innocent, I felt something rise up in me—a strange mixture of frustration, sadness, and invisibility.

Why does something as “small” as a name carry so much weight? Why does being seen—truly seen—matter so much to us?

And then I thought of you God.

I thought of how You, the King of Kings, Creator of the Universe, called me by name. You don’t stumble over it. You never forget it. You don’t get it wrong. You don’t ask, “Hey…what’s your name again?” No. You speak it with clarity, affection, and purpose. You say it with authority. You whisper it in the dark. And You shout it in the spirit when I forget who I am.

God, You said, “I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1) That verse has been echoing in my chest all day like a heartbeat. You are mine. Those three words undo me.

I’ve had moments when I questioned my value—not because I didn’t believe in You, but because I couldn’t see how someone as holy and big and omniscient as You could have space for someone like me. I’m not famous. I’m not particularly loud. I’m not everyone’s first choice. But somehow, You knew my name long before anyone else ever called it out.

When Moses stood before that burning bush in Exodus 3, You didn’t start with a long explanation or a heavenly trumpet blast. You said: “Moses, Moses.” You spoke his name twice. Twice! That wasn’t random. That was intimacy. That was relationship. That was recognition.

And when Samuel was a young boy, uncertain, probably wrestling with the brokenness of the leaders around him—Eli’s sons were a whole mess—you still met him. You didn’t wait for him to have it all together. You called his name, again and again. “Samuel… Samuel.” Even when he didn’t know it was You at first.

God, You are patient.

You waited for Samuel to hear You correctly.

You called him by name in a season of confusion.

And You’re doing the same with me.

When I feel lost in a crowd or buried beneath comparison, You call my name.

When I’ve failed, like Peter did… when I’ve betrayed my own convictions or let fear silence me… You call me again. Just like that angel said: “Go tell the disciples—and Peter.” (Mark 16:7) That verse always makes me cry. You made sure Peter knew You hadn’t forgotten him. You still called him by name even after the denial. You reinstated him when he probably thought he was disqualified.

So many people forget or distort names. I’ve been called everything from “Janelle” to “Janessa” to “Just—you.” But You, Jesus? You call me daughter. You call me beloved. You call me by the name You wrote in Your book before the foundations of the world.

“Before I was born the Lord called me; from my birth He has made mention of my name.” (Isaiah 49:1)

That’s not poetic fluff. That’s truth. It means my identity isn’t just a mix of syllables my parents liked. It’s not just a legal signature. It’s a divine utterance. My name is known in heaven. Engraved, not penciled in. Not forgotten. Not a placeholder.

So tonight, in the stillness of my room and the rawness of my thoughts, I choose to believe this deeper:

You know me, God.

Not just the “public” me. Not just the praying me. Not just the writing, smiling, leading me.

You know the quiet, insecure, questioning me.

And still… You call me by name.

Father, help me to remember this when I feel invisible. When the world wants to rename me with its own labels—“Not Enough,” “Too Much,” “Second Choice,” “Too Broken”—remind me of Your voice.

Remind me that You, the Lord of all, not only know my name… You speak it with love.

Jesus,

Thank You for calling me by name. Thank You that I don’t have to shout to get Your attention. I don’t have to be famous to be known by You. I don’t have to get everything right for You to remember me. You knew me before the womb. You formed me with purpose. You named me with intention.

I surrender every false identity tonight. Every name that life has tried to pin on me—failure, disappointment, mistake, forgotten—I lay them at Your feet. Let the only name I answer to be the one You’ve given me.

Call me again, Lord. Loud if You must. Whisper if You will. But don’t stop calling me. Because there’s nothing more beautiful than being known by You.

Amen.

FINAL THOUGHTS….

I think part of maturing in faith is learning that being known by God is better than being known by people. Yes, it feels good to be seen, heard, and remembered by others. But human memory fails. Intention falters. But God’s knowledge of me? It’s eternal. Secure. Intimate.

I’m not just a name on a list. I’m not a username. I’m not a forgotten prayer request.

I’m known. By name. By grace.

Shine God’s Light: Simple Ways to Bless Others Daily

Posted on August 21, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

Today has been heavy, and I don’t say that lightly. Not in a “woke up on the wrong side of the bed” kind of way, but heavy like I’m carrying weights that don’t even belong to me. I guess that’s what happens when your heart is so open to the brokenness around you. You start to feel the ache of others. And let me tell you—there’s so much ache in the world right now.

It’s not like I ever really forget how hard life can be, but some weeks just shove it in your face. This week has been one of those. I can’t stop seeing the pain behind people’s eyes, the tension in their smiles. It’s like God gave me a special lens this week to see what’s usually hidden. A spiritual x-ray vision, maybe.

Family members are dealing with health scares and secrets too deep to share. Friends are grieving—one just lost her mom, and another had her heart broken by someone who promised forever. Financial stress is drowning some people I love. Others are still battling wounds from relationships that never healed right. And what do I even say to all that?

I used to feel helpless in moments like these. Like my compassion wasn’t enough, and my words were falling flat. But God’s been teaching me something powerful: it’s not always about fixing it. Sometimes it’s about showing up, really showing up.

Romans 12:15 tells us, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” That verse is such a simple call, but it’s deeply confrontational if we’re honest. It’s asking us to feel with people—to step into their joy and their pain without rushing it or sanitizing it with shallow encouragement.

So, what can we really do when we can’t fix things? I’m learning there are three simple things that carry eternal weight.

I felt prompted to text my old college roommate two days ago. We haven’t talked in months—life gets busy, right? But God wouldn’t let her off my heart. So I did. Just a simple message: “Hey, I was thinking of you today. How are you really doing?” She called me crying. Her father had just gone into the hospital. She hadn’t told many people yet.

God doesn’t prompt us randomly. If someone is on your heart, act on it. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, “Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” But how can we help anyone up if we don’t see that they’ve fallen?

I want to be the kind of woman who doesn’t just say “I’ll pray for you” and move on. I want to check in, be present, hold space for the hard stuff.

It sounds ridiculous at first, right? But a genuine smile is a ministry all its own.

I was in the grocery store yesterday, and the cashier looked exhausted. You know the kind of tired that has nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with life just being too much? That kind. I smiled, met her eyes, and said, “Thank you for being here today.” She paused, blinked, and said, “That just made my whole morning.”

We’re not called to be flashy or loud with our faith 24/7, but we are called to let Christ shine through us. Matthew 5:16 reminds us, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Sometimes that light looks like a smile that says, “I see you. You matter.”

This is the foundation of everything.

Prayer is not passive—it’s powerful. James 5:16 says, “The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous person avails much.” I cling to that. Even when I feel like my words are weak or my faith feels shaky. Prayer still matters.

When we pray, we’re stepping into the gap for others. We’re saying, “God, I don’t have the answers, but You do. Show up. Intervene. Heal.” It’s the most loving thing we can do, especially when we feel powerless.

I’ve learned that when I start praying for someone else, God often works in me just as much. He softens my heart, refines my attitude, and teaches me patience and empathy.

So here’s my challenge to myself—and to you, if you’re reading this one day:
Make a difference in someone’s day. Not because it earns you favor with God. Not because it’ll fix their problems. But because Jesus cared deeply about people, and if we’re walking with Him, we should too.

Let me leave this here as a prayer I wrote tonight, hoping it helps me focus on what matters:

God,

Thank You for giving me a heart that feels deeply. Thank You for showing me the pain in others—not so I can carry it all, but so I can love them well.
Help me to never grow numb to suffering. Help me to smile when someone needs joy, to reach out when someone feels forgotten, and to pray with faith even when I can’t see the outcome.

Let me be a vessel for Your compassion. Let my presence make a difference, even in small ways. Remind me that no act of kindness is wasted in Your Kingdom.
In Jesus’ powerful name, Amen.

Tomorrow, I’ll try again. I’ll smile even if I’m tired. I’ll text the person I’m thinking of instead of just thinking. I’ll pray like I believe it changes everything.

Because it does.

When God Calls, Say “Yes”

Posted on August 21, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

Romans 12:1-2 has been ringing in my spirit all day:

“So, brothers and sisters, because of God’s mercies, I encourage you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your appropriate priestly service. Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is — what is good and pleasing and mature.”

Paul didn’t say to find a ministry. He didn’t say to pick a purpose like it’s a major in college. He said to present myself. That my whole body—my life, my breath, my desires, my dreams, my mistakes, my identity—is the offering. That is what pleases God. That is the path to understanding His will.

I’ve been so focused on the fruit, the output, the outcome. “What does God want me to do with my life?” “What’s my calling?” “What’s the plan?” I’ve stressed myself out trying to figure out where I fit in the grand kingdom scheme of things. But now I see… I’ve been skipping step one.

Step one is Him. Step one is relationship. Not just Sunday morning kind of relationship, not even quiet time coffee and journal relationship—although those are good. Step one is a living, breathing, moment-by-moment walk with the God who formed me and calls me daughter. A relationship built on trust, full surrender, and wild, unreasonable faith.

Honestly? I’ve been afraid to say yes. Really say yes.

Because saying “yes” to God means saying “no” to some other things. It means letting go of control—and if I’m real, I’ve clung tightly to control like it was the last raft in a stormy sea. Control gave me a false sense of safety. But it also made me tired, bitter, confused.

God doesn’t want to control me. He wants to lead me. There’s a difference.

And if I keep my eyes on Him—just Him—not the blessings, not the callings, not the platforms or titles—just Him—then I’ll never be lost.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”

Today, I stopped leaning on my understanding. And I started trusting that the God who knit me together in the secret place knows how to lead me in public too.

Prayer:

Father, I surrender. I give You not just my Sunday self, not just the “good girl” version of me. I give You the whole thing. My fears, my doubts, my control issues, my desire to perform. I lay it all at Your feet. I present myself to You as a living sacrifice—holy and pleasing—not because I’ve earned it but because Jesus made a way. Teach me how to walk with You in the small moments. I don’t want a surface-level relationship. I want the kind of intimacy that marks me. I want to know Your voice like I know my own breath. Direct me, God—not with pressure, but with peace. I say yes. Yes to You. Yes to love. Yes to surrender. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I’ve realized that vocational clarity, ministry clarity, even relationship clarity—it all flows out of intimacy with God. Not the other way around.

We don’t get close to God after we find our calling. We find our calling as we walk closely with God.

And that’s been the missing link for me.

I’ve been asking for direction like a GPS voice from heaven: “Turn left in 400 feet.” But God wants to walk with me—not just instruct me. He’s not a distant coach. He’s Emmanuel. God with us. God with me.

When I get close to Him, everything else becomes clearer—not always immediately, but deeply. He reveals who I am in Him. And from that place, ministry isn’t forced. It flows. My gifts, my passions, my story—they all become tools in His hands. But I have to be in His hands first. Surrendered. Moldable. Willing.

You know, being compassionate doesn’t mean being passive.

Sometimes loving God means confronting everything in you that wants to be safe, comfortable, in control. Sometimes love is fierce. Sometimes surrender is a fight—a choice to silence the voice of fear and say, “Not today. I trust God.”

And honestly? I’m tired of being lukewarm. I’m tired of half-yeses and conditional surrender.

I don’t want to be the girl who only obeys when it makes sense or when it’s popular. I want to be the woman who says yes even when the cost is high, even when the world calls it crazy, even when I’m scared.

Because Jesus didn’t hesitate when He said yes to the cross for me.

Luke 9:23 hits different tonight:

“Then He said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me.’”

Daily. Not just once at a youth conference. Not just when I feel spiritual. But every. Single. Day.

Saying yes isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a lifestyle. A rhythm. A posture of the heart.

So tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll say yes again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes my default. Until “yes, Lord” is the first thing off my lips and the deepest cry of my soul.

Lord, keep me in a posture of yes. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it costs me friends, followers, or opportunities. Even when it means leaving behind the familiar. Keep me rooted in You. Make intimacy with You my greatest priority—not productivity, not performance, not platform. Strip away everything false in me and replace it with truth. Let Your Word renew my mind. Let Your Spirit fill my steps. May my life be an offering. A living sacrifice. A yes that echoes through eternity. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I may not know where I’m going in five years. I may not have a five-step plan. But I have a yes. And that’s enough.

Because when I said yes, I said yes to the God who does know the plan.

Jeremiah 29:11 says:

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.’”

That’s not just a verse to put on a graduation card. That’s a promise.

And my “yes” activates that promise in my life.

Not because God needs my permission—but because He invites my participation.

So here I am. 25 years old. Still figuring it out. Still learning. But sure of one thing: I’m not living for this world. I’m living for His Kingdom. I’m not chasing fame. I’m chasing His face.

And every time I say yes, I get a little closer.

Amen.

Sacred or Secular? Debating the Ten Commandments in Public Schools

Posted on August 20, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

I watched a heated debate about whether the Ten Commandments should be displayed in public school classrooms. Of course, the arguments were as fiery as always. One side says it’s about morality and foundation. The other screams separation of church and state. As I sat there, my heart burned — not with anger, but with righteous conviction. Lord, help me make sense of this.

I can’t help but wonder… when did truth become controversial?

“You shall have no other gods before Me.” – Exodus 20:3

That alone seems to make people squirm. In our pursuit of “inclusion,” we’ve excluded the very God who gave us the blueprint for living. It frustrates me because people act as though the Ten Commandments are just religious propaganda — when in reality, they’re moral anchors. What’s wrong with telling kids not to steal, lie, kill, or covet? We’re watching society crumble in real time and then getting mad when someone offers a reminder of how to keep it standing.

Dear God,

You are the Author of truth and the Giver of laws that bring life. I pray for wisdom — not just for myself, but for this generation that seems to have lost its way. Help us see the difference between loving all people and erasing the truth to avoid offense. Your Word is not outdated. It is eternal. Amen.

What blows my mind is that schools are filled with posters preaching “Be Kind” and “Respect Each Other” — values that are literally born from God’s commandments. But the minute we mention the source, people freak out. It’s like they want the fruit without the root.

I’m not trying to force religion down anyone’s throat. I’m not asking for mandatory Bible classes. But what I am saying is this: we are witnessing the decay of basic morality among youth. Depression rates are rising, kids are lost, confused about identity, purpose, and truth. And we’re too afraid to even mention the principles that could save them.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” – Proverbs 22:6

I get it — we live in a pluralistic society. Not everyone believes what I believe. But since when does diversity mean we can’t talk about foundational principles? If the Ten Commandments are so offensive, what does that say about the heart of this culture? That’s not freedom. That’s fear disguised as tolerance.

Some say displaying the Ten Commandments violates the separation of church and state. But the Constitution was never about banning God. It was about preventing the government from establishing a state religion — not silencing expressions of faith. And ironically, many of the founding fathers did reference God in their writings. They leaned on biblical morality while shaping this nation. So now, in 2025, we’re pretending like we’ve evolved beyond it?

No, I’m sorry — I can’t keep quiet.

“Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light and light for darkness.” – Isaiah 5:20

There’s a spiritual war going on, and we’re acting like it’s just politics. The devil isn’t loud. He’s subtle. He convinces people that removing the Ten Commandments from walls is “progress,” when in reality, it’s a silent erasure of truth from the eyes of children. And if we don’t teach them truth, the world will teach them confusion.

Sometimes I feel like Jeremiah, weeping over a people that have forgotten their God.

Lord Jesus,
Break our hearts for what breaks Yours. Let us not be passive in the face of deception. I pray for every student walking into classrooms where Your name is considered offensive. Place Christians in those spaces who will reflect Your love boldly. Help us to speak truth in love — not with arrogance, but with compassion and courage. Amen.

To the ones who say religion has no place in public schools, I would ask: has removing God improved our education system? Are kids more respectful? Are families more intact? Is morality more evident?

You can’t legislate holiness, but you can offer reminders. And if a simple plaque on a wall that says “Honor your father and your mother” (Exodus 20:12) can plant a seed in even one child’s heart, isn’t it worth it?

I know some will say I’m being dramatic — too confrontational. But silence isn’t compassion. Jesus flipped tables in the temple, not because He hated people, but because He hated what sin had done to sacred places.

I guess my question is — do we even see our children as sacred anymore?

If we did, we’d care more about what’s shaping them.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” – Proverbs 9:10

We’ve removed the fear of God and are now confused why there’s no wisdom. We’ve handed kids smartphones instead of commandments and wonder why they’re anxious and lost.

God,
Bring revival. Not just in churches, but in classrooms, in hallways, in teachers’ lounges, and school boards. Let Your truth be written on more than walls — let it be etched into our hearts again. I believe in You more than I believe in anything this world offers. And I know You are not intimidated by courts, governments, or policies. You are King over all. Let Your will be done. Amen.

I’m going to sleep tonight not with anger, but with resolve. The Ten Commandments aren’t just ancient words carved in stone. They’re a lifeline. And whether they’re hung in classrooms or not, I will keep them in my heart — and teach them to those God places in my path.

Because morality isn’t outdated.
And God is still God.
Even when the world tries to take Him off the wall.

Morning Prayers to Ignite Your Faith: Start Each Day with God

Posted on August 20, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

(ME JUST WAKING UP AND READY TO START THE MORNING WITH PRAYER)

People talk a lot about “morning routines.” Skincare. Journaling. Gym. Protein smoothies. But if Jesus isn’t the first voice I hear and the first presence I seek, I’ve already missed the point of being alive today. I’m not trying to be dramatic — just honest. I’ve been through too much to fake my faith now. The only reason I’ve made it this far is because God held me when no one else even noticed I was falling.

So here I am, writing this out, partly to remember and partly to remind anyone who reads this — if you want power, peace, and purpose in your day, start it with God. Not Instagram. Not the news. Not your anxiety. Go to the throne, not your phone.

Here are the 10 morning prayers I’ve been leaning on. Some days I whisper them with tears, other days I shout them like war cries. But every day, I mean them.

🙏 1. Prayer for Presence

Lord, before I even touch my phone or plan my day, I want You. Be the first voice I hear. Fill this room, fill my heart, and remind me that You are with me. I don’t want to do a single thing without You. Amen.

Some mornings I wake up and I already feel behind — like life’s sprinting and I’m crawling. But His presence stills me. No rush. No panic. Just Him.

🙏 2. Prayer for Gratitude

Jesus, thank You for this day — this breath, this beating heart, this new mercy. Even if everything else feels broken, the fact that I woke up means You’re not done with me yet. Thank You. Amen.

I used to only thank Him when I felt blessed. Now I thank Him even when it hurts. That’s maturity — praising God with a cracked voice.

🙏 3. Prayer for Boldness

Father, make me bold. Not arrogant, not loud — but boldly obedient. Help me speak truth even when it costs me. Help me love when it’s not convenient. Make me brave for You. Amen.

Some people call me “too much.” But if I’m too much for them while I’m following Jesus, then maybe they’re not walking with the same Jesus.

🙏 4. Prayer for Wisdom

Holy Spirit, guide my decisions today. Don’t let me lean on my own understanding. Lead me in every conversation, every step. I don’t want to just be busy — I want to be in alignment. Amen.

I’ve made dumb choices when I didn’t wait for God’s voice. Now I know — wisdom is more than smarts. It’s surrender.

🙏 5. Prayer for Peace

Prince of Peace, calm the storms in my soul. Quiet the voices of fear, regret, and insecurity. Anchor me in Your truth. I choose peace over panic today. Amen.

My peace doesn’t come from circumstances — it comes from knowing who’s in control. And it’s not me. Praise God for that.

🙏 6. Prayer for Purpose

God, use me today. I don’t want to just exist — I want to live on mission. Show me who needs love, who needs truth, who needs hope. Send me. Amen.

Every day has eternal value. If I’m breathing, I’m called. Period.

🙏 7. Prayer for Protection

Lord, protect my mind, my body, my heart. Guard me from temptation, from distraction, from harm. Send angels around me. I plead the blood of Jesus over this day. Amen.

I don’t play with spiritual warfare. The devil’s real — but so is my Defender.

🙏 8. Prayer for Forgiveness

Jesus, forgive me for the ways I’ve fallen short — yesterday, last week, even this morning. Wash me clean. I receive Your grace. I refuse to walk in shame. Amen.

I’ve messed up. A lot. But God’s grace keeps chasing me down. Every day, He still says, “Come home.”

🙏 9. Prayer for Joy

Father, fill me with joy today — real, holy joy that doesn’t depend on what happens. Remind me that I am loved, chosen, and held by You. Let joy be my strength. Amen.

Joy is a weapon. It’s how I fight back against depression, discouragement, and despair.

🙏 10. Prayer for Revival

God, wake me up. Wake up Your church. Let revival start in my heart today. Set me on fire for You. I don’t want lukewarm faith. I want You — fully, fiercely, forever. Amen.

We don’t need more comfort. We need fire. The world is dying while we sleep in. God, forgive us. Shake us.

I don’t care if people think I’m “too Christian.” I’m not living for their approval. I’m living for the God who saved me, healed me, and gave me a reason to breathe again.

If someone’s reading this looking for a sign — this is it. Start your morning with Jesus. Open your Bible before your apps. Talk to God before anyone else. Don’t wait until life falls apart to get desperate. Be desperate now.

And to my future self: don’t forget this. The days you feel closest to God are the ones you started with Him. Stay anchored. Stay hungry. Stay faithful.

Are You a True Disciple of Jesus, or Just Familiar with our Savior?

Posted on August 20, 2025August 30, 2025 by thechristiantechnerd

I can’t shake the question. It’s been pressing on my heart all week, echoing like a whisper I can’t ignore:

“Will Jesus say He knew me when I stand before Him in heaven?”

It hits different when I ask it out loud.
It’s not just about whether I know about You — it’s whether I truly know You. Intimately. Genuinely. Deeply.

Because here’s the thing — I’ve spent years in church pews, sang the worship songs, prayed the public prayers, quoted the Scriptures. But that doesn’t guarantee that You’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)

Honestly, the thought of standing before You and hearing, “Depart from Me, I never knew you” (Matthew 7:23) — it wrecks me. Not out of fear, but out of reverence. I don’t want a shallow version of this faith. I don’t want a Jesus I visit on Sundays and forget by Monday. I want to live like You are real — because You ARE.

And You’re not just real — You’re everything.

God, You said in Jeremiah 29:13,

“You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”

So here I am again tonight, seeking You with my whole heart. Not for blessings. Not for comfort. Not even for answers. Just for You.

Jesus,
There are moments when I look around and realize how many people claim to know You… but how few actually live like they do. And if I’m being brutally honest — I’ve had seasons where I was one of them.

I said the right words. I knew the theology. But my heart was numb. My prayers were mechanical. And my Bible collected more dust than revelation.

But You didn’t give up on me.
You pursued me. You waited for me. You loved me back to life.

How can I ever thank You for that?

“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8

Thank You, Jesus, for wanting to know me. That truth alone melts my soul. You, the Creator of the universe, chose me. Not because I’m worthy, but because You’re good. You didn’t grow tired of my inconsistency. You didn’t give up on me when I wandered. You held my hand in the valley and whispered, “I’m still here.”

I think sometimes we forget that knowing You isn’t just about information — it’s about relationship. And relationships take time. Intentionality. Conversation. Trust.

You’ve shown me that real intimacy with You is built in the secret place — not the spotlight. In whispered prayers. In wrestling with doubt. In the moments no one else sees.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

You’ve taught me to be still. And in that stillness, I’ve come to know You not just as Savior… but as Friend. As Shepherd. As King… and yet closer than my breath.

Lord, I’ve been thinking about how we treat this relationship sometimes like a checklist.
Did I read my Bible? ✅
Did I pray before my meal? ✅
Did I go to church? ✅

But You’re not looking for a checklist. You’re looking for communion.

You want us to abide.

“Abide in Me, and I in you…” – John 15:4

What an honor that is. That we — broken, distracted, imperfect — get to dwell in the presence of the Almighty God, every single day. What grace. What undeserved grace.

Here’s the confronting part — and I won’t sugarcoat it:
I think we need to stop pretending that proximity to Christian culture is the same as proximity to Christ.

Just because I grew up in church doesn’t mean I know You.
Just because I listen to worship music doesn’t mean I worship You.
Just because I post Scriptures online doesn’t mean I live them.

I’m tired of half-hearted Christianity.
I don’t want to flirt with faith. I want to marry myself to it.

Jesus,
I want You to recognize me when I walk into eternity.
I want You to look me in the eyes and say, “You walked with Me. You trusted Me. You knew Me — and I knew you.”

So here’s my prayer — raw and unfiltered:

Lord,

Strip me of every performance-driven mindset.
Tear down the walls I’ve built around my heart.
Expose every false version of You I’ve believed.
Silence the noise of religion and bring me back to the wonder of relationship.

Help me to know You as You truly are — not who I’ve imagined or heard about secondhand.
I want Your truth, not my version of it.
More than blessings, more than breakthrough — I want You.

Jesus, teach me to seek Your face, not just Your hand.
Let me fall in love with Your Word all over again.
Make my heart burn like the disciples on the road to Emmaus when You opened the Scriptures to them. (Luke 24:32)

And when I’m tempted to perform, to impress, or to hide — remind me that You never asked for perfection. You asked for proximity. You asked for love.

I feel the weight of eternity pressing into this moment.

How I live here matters. Not for salvation — that’s grace alone — but for relationship.
This life is training ground for forever.
I want to show up in heaven already familiar with Your voice.
I want to walk in and feel like I’m home, not like I’m meeting a stranger.

The truth is, Jesus, without You I’d be so lost. I’ve seen what my life looks like when I drift — and it’s ugly. It’s aimless. It’s hollow.

You are my anchor when the world sways.
You are the only constant in this chaotic life.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5

Apart from You, I can do nothing.

And maybe that’s the whole point.
Knowing You isn’t about striving… it’s about surrender.
It’s not about doing more… it’s about abiding deeper.
It’s not about being “good enough”… it’s about being in love enough to never let go.

Final Prayer of Gratitude

Thank You, Jesus, for desiring to know me more.
Thank You for never growing tired of our relationship, even when I bring my brokenness to the table.
Thank You for revealing Yourself to me through Your Word — for speaking into my soul, for comforting me when I’m weary, for correcting me when I stray.

Thank You for choosing me.
I’m not just a name in the crowd to You — I’m Your child.
And I want to spend the rest of my life, and all eternity, getting to know You more.

So tonight, I ask again — not just as a question, but as a commitment:

How well do I know Jesus?

Not well enough.
But I will.

Every day, every prayer, every choice —
I will keep chasing Your heart.

Until the day I stand before You face to face,
and You smile and say,

“I know you.”

Amen.