Tag: bible

I Don’t Know Who Needs This—But Here Are 10 Prayers That Helped Me

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

(PLEASE SHARE A PRAYER WITH ME IN MY COMMENTS IF POSSIBLE 🙏)

The past two weeks have been heavy, sad, and honestly, very tough for me.

A kind of emotional weight that’s hard to explain, but easy to feel.

Everything looks normal on the outside, but inside? I feel off. Sad. Tired in a way that rest doesn’t quite fix. Spiritually dry, mentally cluttered, and emotionally worn down.

Time has felt slow. People feel distant. And my thoughts? Loud.
Like I can’t turn them down, and I can’t pray them away either.


I’ve been trying so hard not to let my emotions lead my faith.

But the truth? I feel a little disconnected from God right now.
Not because He’s moved. He hasn’t. He never does.
It’s me. I’m tired—emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Just tired.

It’s not burnout from one big thing. It’s the accumulation of a hundred little things. Disappointments. Delays. Distant friendships. Sleepless nights. It feels like I’m showing up everywhere half-full, but pretending to be overflowing. And I’m not proud of it, but lately, I’ve been running on autopilot spiritually.

Still—I know this: when the world gets heavy, prayer becomes oxygen. Even when I don’t have fancy words. Even when all I can do is sit with God and cry. Even when it feels like I’m praying to a ceiling, I know my words still reach Heaven.

Over this past weekend I decided to stop overthinking and just write ten short prayers. That’s it. No filters. No performing. Just my honest heart in the presence of a faithful God.

And as I wrote them… I exhaled for the first time in days.

I don’t know if these prayers are for anyone else—but I know they helped me. They reminded me that I’m not invisible. That God sees me even when I feel unseen. And maybe… they’ll help carry me into next week with a little more hope.

1. When I Feel Overwhelmed

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” – Psalm 46:1

God, I’m juggling too much. I feel like I’m failing in all the areas that matter. Work. Friendships. Faith. I need You to be my calm in the chaos. Help me breathe, slow down, and remember You never asked me to carry this alone. Amen.

2. When Loneliness Creeps In

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” – Psalm 34:18

Jesus, today feels extra lonely. Everyone else seems busy, and I don’t want to be “too much” for anyone. But You… You see me. Sit with me. Let me feel Your nearness tonight. Amen.

3. When I’m Just Exhausted

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

Lord, I’m tired—deep in my bones kind of tired. I don’t need just sleep. I need rest. True, soul-deep rest. Please give it. Please hold me. Amen.

4. When Anxiety Takes Over

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7

Father, my mind won’t stop racing. I feel like I’m spiraling. Please speak peace over me. Quiet the fear. Be my anchor. Remind me who I belong to. Amen.

5. When I Feel Far From God

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” – James 4:8

Jesus, I’ve felt distant. Distracted. Disconnected. Not because You moved—but because I did. I miss You. Please draw me back. Amen.

6. When I’m Tired of Waiting

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage.” – Psalm 27:14

God, the waiting is hard. Everyone else seems to be moving forward while I’m stuck. Help me trust that Your timing is still perfect. Strengthen my heart in the pause. Amen.

7. When Guilt Won’t Let Go

“There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” – Romans 8:1

Lord, I’ve messed up again. I feel ashamed. But I know You already saw it—and You still love me. Remind me that grace isn’t earned. It’s already mine in You. Amen.

8. When I Want to Choose Gratitude Over Bitterness

“Give thanks in all circumstances.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Jesus, bitterness has crept in. Help me refocus. Open my eyes to what’s good, even now. Thank You for the breath in my lungs, the roof over my head, and the grace that covers me daily. Amen.

9. When I Need Strength to Keep Going

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” – Isaiah 40:29

Father, I want to quit. But I know You’re not done with me. Renew my strength. Fill me again. Remind me I don’t walk alone. Amen.

10. When I Need Hope for Tomorrow

“For I know the plans I have for you…” – Jeremiah 29:11

Lord, thank You for being near this weekend. Even when it didn’t feel like much, You were here. As I walk into a new week, help me go with hope, not fear. Amen.

That’s all I had in me over the weekend. But somehow, it felt like enough.

And that’s what grace looks like sometimes—just enough to get through today. One honest moment with God. One breath of faith when everything else feels heavy.

I’m starting to believe that these low moments can still be sacred. Maybe not the kind of sacred that makes it into a worship song, but the kind that heaven notices. The kind where nothing about me feels put together, but God shows up anyway.

Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’m going to church—whether I feel it or not. Because obedience is still obedience, even when it’s quiet. Sometimes faith isn’t loud—it’s just faithful.

And maybe that’s what healing actually looks like.

The Purpose in God’s Patience

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’m starting to realize that God’s patience is not just something I need to learn about — it’s something I desperately need to receive. Not mentally acknowledge, not highlight in my Bible, not recite in small group — but truly receive.

And honestly, I think that’s where the disconnect is for most of us — myself included.

We know God is patient. We say He’s patient. We quote scriptures like:

“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you…”
— 2 Peter 3:9 (ESV)

But the question I’ve been wrestling with lately is:
How infiltrated am I by that patience?

Have I let it change me? Form me?
Can people feel God’s patience through me?

This morning, while I was driving and thinking through all the things I had to do, I got irritated over a five-minute delay. Five minutes. And then the Holy Spirit just dropped this quiet conviction in my spirit:

“You receive My mercy but reject My pace.”

That hit me hard.

I love being forgiven quickly, but I don’t love having to forgive slowly. I love that God is long-suffering with me, but I expect other people to mature overnight. And I hate to admit this, but even when I ask God for patience, I expect an instant download, not a process.

I’m reminded of the servant in Matthew 18:23-35 — the one forgiven a massive debt by his king but then turned around and refused mercy to someone who owed him very little. That story always hits a nerve. Especially the end:

“Then the angry king sent the man to prison until he had paid every penny.”
— Matthew 18:34 (NLT)

And Jesus wasn’t just talking about money. He was warning us about what unforgiveness and impatience do to the soul. They don’t just strain relationships. They imprison us.

And here’s what I’ve been reflecting on:
Impatience may not land us in a literal jail cell, but it absolutely locks our souls up.

It steals our peace.
It ruins our perspective.
It makes our relationships tense and transactional.
It makes us bitter with God and demanding of others.

The wild part? God doesn’t just demand patience from us — He actually offers it to us. It’s part of the fruit of the Spirit:

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control…”
— Galatians 5:22–23 (ESV)

It’s something He produces in us — when we stay connected to Him.

And I think that’s the shift I’m starting to embrace:
Instead of striving for patience, I want to abide in Christ and let patience grow out of the intimacy.

But growth takes time.
Fruit takes time.
Patience takes… well… patience.

Have I asked God to grow patience in me? Yes.
Have I grown frustrated when it didn’t happen fast enough? Absolutely.

But I’m learning that asking God for patience means He’s going to give me opportunities to practice it, not just the feeling of it. He’ll place me in moments where I have to choose it. And not once or twice, but daily. Repeatedly.

The deeper truth is that the world we live in is constantly forming us to be impatient. Fast food. Same-day delivery. Quick replies. Instant results. We’re conditioned to expect immediacy.

But God moves at a different pace.
He works in seasons, not seconds.
He transforms in silence, not speed.

And if I want to become more like Him — more loving, more rooted, more whole — then I have to trust His pace as much as I trust His plans.

That’s hard for me. I like control. I like efficiency. I like clarity. But patience asks me to sit in the unknown and remain kind. It asks me to endure discomfort without becoming bitter. It calls me to wait without losing hope.

And maybe most importantly… patience reminds me that God hasn’t given up on people, so neither should I.

Whether it’s that friend who keeps making poor choices, or the family member I’m tempted to give up on, or even me — the parts of myself I wish would hurry up and grow already — I’m learning to offer the same patience I’ve received.

Because God has been so, so patient with me.


Father,
I thank You for Your patience — not just in principle, but in the lived-out way You’ve walked with me through every season of my mess, my doubt, my delay, my rebellion, and my apathy.

You have never rushed me.
You have never given up on me.
You’ve waited with grace, over and over again.

Teach me to do the same — with others and with myself.
Let Your Spirit cultivate real, lasting patience in me.
Not shallow tolerance, but true, Christlike forbearance — the kind that is rooted in love, not ego.

Help me surrender my timeline.
Help me stop measuring growth by speed.
Help me trust Your pace even when I don’t understand it.

Let Your patience shape my perspective, steady my emotions, and soften my expectations.

I don’t want to just learn about Your patience.
I want to be formed by it.
I want to be infiltrated by it.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Reflection to Self


The next time I feel that quick sting of impatience rise up — whether it’s with people, my job, my future, or even with God — I want to pause and ask:


“Have I forgotten how patient He’s been with me?”

Because if I truly received His patience, I’d be slower to speak, slower to judge, and quicker to love.

And that’s who I want to be — not just a woman who knows about God’s patience, but one who lives it.

Inhale Peace, Exhale Fear: A Prayer For Calmness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

God,


Something horrible happened today. I don’t even know how to write about it without screaming, crying, or just breaking completely. But I made a vow—to You, Lord—that I would process pain through prayer, not panic. So here I am, raw and real.

You already know what happened, of course. You’re sovereign, all-knowing, omnipresent. But I still feel the need to tell You. It’s like talking helps me breathe when I’m drowning. And today… I am drowning.

The news hit me like a brick wall. Shocking, senseless, and so gut-wrenchingly unfair. It’s the kind of thing that plants anger deep in the chest. The kind of anger that burns. The kind that could so easily lead to sin if I don’t run to You first. That’s why I’m writing—so I don’t go off on the world, but rather, run straight into Your arms.

Lord, the weight of this injustice tempts me to lash out, to clap back, to defend what’s right with the sharpest tongue I have. But what would that fix? You said, “The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20). I repeat that verse over and over to myself like a heartbeat. You said vengeance is Yours, not mine (Romans 12:19). And I trust You.

The Serenity Prayer

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.”

But God, it’s so hard to stay calm. This world doesn’t value truth. It praises cruelty. It celebrates what is evil and mocks what is holy. That’s why I feel like a stranger here, like a foreigner in a land that doesn’t understand my values—Your values.

I’m not pretending to be okay. I’m not sweeping it under the rug. I’m not “letting it go” just to avoid conflict. I’m confronting it in prayer because I refuse to let the enemy manipulate my emotions. I’m putting my emotions on the altar.

I am not fragile. I’m not weak. I am a daughter of the Most High God. I carry the Spirit of peace within me—“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). I will not let fear, anger, or rage hijack this moment.

So instead of lashing out, I inhale Your peace, Lord.

I inhale the stillness of Your presence.
I inhale the quiet strength of the Holy Spirit.
I inhale the promise that You are near to the brokenhearted and save the crushed in spirit .(Psalm 34:18)


And I exhale this fear. I exhale the urge to retaliate. I exhale the chaos in my mind and the storm in my chest.

God, I feel like Peter, stepping out on water in the middle of a storm, eyes on You, until the wind and waves make me start sinking. But I know what to do. I cry out: “Lord, save me!” And You always do.

Let me be clear: calmness isn’t passivity. I’m not “calm” because I’m afraid to speak up. I’m calm because You have equipped me with discernment. And when the time is right, I’ll speak—but not from a place of rage. From a place of authority rooted in You.

So here’s my prayer, Father:

A Prayer for Calmness

Heavenly Father,


You are the God of peace, the Prince of calm in the midst of the wildest storms. Today, my soul is shaken, and my emotions rage like a hurricane, but I run to You for shelter.

Still my thoughts, Lord. Quiet my heart. Let Your Holy Spirit fall fresh on me, washing away the heat of my anger and replacing it with clarity, boldness, and peace. I don’t want to numb the pain—I want to transform it through Your presence. Help me to be angry and not sin (Ephesians 4:26). Give me the words to say when silence is no longer holy, and the wisdom to hold my tongue when silence speaks louder than rage.

Help me to stand for righteousness without becoming self-righteous. Let my calmness confuse the enemy. Let my peace be a weapon against the chaos. Let me respond with grace, not because I’m weak, but because I am strong in You.

I believe that even on a day like today—especially on a day like today—You are still working. And something good, something glorious, will rise from these ashes.


In Jesus’ mighty name,
Amen.

This pain isn’t pretty. It’s not poetic. It’s jagged and real. But I still believe—with every fiber of my being—that God will make it beautiful. He always does. Romans 8:28 isn’t just a coffee mug verse. It’s the lifeline I’m clinging to: “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.”

So tonight, I won’t fall asleep bitter. I won’t let this horror pull me out of alignment with You, Lord. I will weep. I will pray. I will breathe.


And I will wake up tomorrow, calm and courageous.

Because I inhale peace. And I exhale fear.

Amen

“I am Jesus…now get up and go… “

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Recently something shifted in my spirit. It was quiet—no thunder, no lightning—but it was undeniably God. He interrupted my comfort, my silence, my prayer… with five words that feel like fire under my skin:

“I am Jesus… now get up and go.” (Acts 9:5 AMP)

I don’t even know where to begin, Lord. You’ve been pressing that verse on my heart all week. It’s been waking me up at 3AM. I’ve read it before, studied it, even quoted it. But this time it wasn’t just a story about Saul on the road to Damascus. This time, it was personal. Like… it was me lying there, blind, wrecked by Your holiness, trembling in the dust.

God, You called Saul by name. You stopped him mid-mission and gave him a brand new one. And You didn’t even explain everything right away. You just told him to “get up and go into the city”—and he obeyed, even though he couldn’t see.

Why does obedience feel so risky sometimes?
Why is comfort so seductive when calling is so clear?

I sat in my room tonight with worship music playing, tears falling down my face, Bible in my lap… feeling You. Feeling You so close I didn’t want to move. That mountain top moment—you were there, like You were with Peter, James, and John when You transfigured before them.

But like them, I have to come back down.

The mountaintop is beautiful, Jesus. I love the clarity, the closeness, the holy hush of it all. But the valley is where the work is. And You didn’t save me so I could sit. You saved me so I could serve. You called me not just to be comforted but to carry something—Your truth, Your gospel, Your name.

God, I’m scared sometimes. I won’t lie.

There are days I feel like Saul—wrecked, confused, unqualified. I’ve messed up. I’ve doubted. I’ve let my fear speak louder than my faith. I’ve avoided people You sent me to love. I’ve chosen silence over truth. I’ve sat in the rocking chair of comfort when You were saying, “Get up and go.”

But tonight You shook me.

You reminded me: You don’t call the qualified, You qualify the called.
And I am called.

Just like You told Saul, You’re telling me:

“I am Jesus…”
That’s it. That’s the authority. That’s the reason. That’s all I need to hear.
Not explanations. Not blueprints.
Just You.

You don’t owe me clarity. You’ve already given me the cross. That should be enough.

God, I don’t want to just talk about You—I want to walk with You. I want to move when You say move, even if I’m trembling. Even if I’m blind to what’s next.

I want to obey You without delay.

I’m done waiting for the “right moment.”
You are the moment.

I’m done acting like faith is a feeling.
Faith is movement. Faith is steps. Faith is getting up and going when You say so.

Jesus…
My Jesus.
I kneel in this quiet moment knowing You’re calling me higher and deeper. I know this fire in my chest isn’t hype, it’s Holy Spirit conviction. Don’t let me sit here any longer, playing it safe, praying for signs, waiting for ease. Let me trust You like Saul did. Let me get up blind but bold, broken but obedient.

Forgive me for loving comfort more than calling.
Forgive me for hoarding the mountaintop when You’ve called me to the mission field.

Fill me with courage, God.
Let me be a woman of action, not just emotion.
Let me carry Your name, even when it costs me mine.

Give me eyes to see the hurting, hands to heal, and a voice that doesn’t shrink back from the truth.
Let me not just be changed by You—let me be used by You.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Scriptures I’m Holding On To Tonight:

Acts 9:5 (AMP) – And Saul said, “Who are You, Lord?” And He answered, “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.
Matthew 17:1-9 – The transfiguration – “It is good for us to be here…”
Isaiah 6:8 – “Here I am. Send me!”
Luke 9:23 – “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”
2 Timothy 1:7 – “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

I know tomorrow I’ll have to step back into hard places, hard conversations, and hard obedience. But tonight I’ve been reminded: He is Jesus. That’s enough.

So I will get up and go.

Not perfectly. Not always confidently.
But always with Him.

Obedience: The True Mark of Christian Discipleship

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today, I’m writing this with trembling hands and a heavy heart—not out of fear, but with the kind of spiritual weight that comes when God stirs something deep in your soul. I feel like the Holy Spirit won’t let me move forward until I sit with this truth: obedience is not occasional. It’s a lifestyle. A commitment.

I don’t want to sugarcoat anything. I’m not here to play Christian dress-up or quote Scripture when it feels convenient. I’m here to live it, breathe it, suffer for it if I have to. And lately, God has been confronting me about what I really mean when I say, “Jesus is Lord of my life.”

Because if I truly believe that, how dare I reserve the right to say “yes, but not right now” or “yes, but not in front of them” or “yes, as long as it doesn’t cost me comfort, reputation, or connection.” Who am I kidding?

Luke 6:46 says: “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?”

That verse pierced through me today like a sword. It’s Jesus asking a question most of us dodge with spiritual fluff. We love the idea of Him being our Savior—our Provider, our Comforter, our Deliverer. But our Lord? That’s where we hesitate.

And the truth is, Lordship means ownership.

If He owns me—my body, my choices, my time, my future—then obedience is not optional. It’s expected. Not from a place of fear or pressure, but love and honor.

I think of Hebrews 13:5, where God says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
That’s not a cute quote for a coffee mug. That’s a promise to carry with us when obedience leaves us standing alone. When saying “yes” to God means losing relationships. When obedience costs us popularity, stability, or dreams we once held dear.

And He will ask us to surrender things we value.

Why? Because He’s cruel? No. Because He’s holy. And we can’t carry our idols and His glory at the same time. It’s one or the other.

I’ve had to wrestle with this personally. God recently asked me to walk away from a situation that wasn’t sinful in the eyes of the world—but it was disobedient in the eyes of God. I knew it. Deep down, I knew I had to walk away.

But do you know how hard it is to obey God when everyone around you is choosing convenience over conviction?

That’s when Romans 8:28 anchored me: “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.”

All things. Even heartbreak. Even loneliness. Even the messes that come from doing the right thing.

Sometimes, obedience looks like closing doors you prayed would stay open. Sometimes, it’s deleting the text, walking away from the friend group, or speaking up when silence would be safer. Sometimes, it’s trusting God with your reputation when the world calls you “too intense” or “too Christian.”

But what does too Christian even mean? Last I checked, Christ didn’t go halfway to the Cross.

That’s why I can’t be halfway with Him.

Here’s the thing: partial obedience is still disobedience. Delayed obedience is disobedience. Conditional obedience is disobedience.

We don’t get to pick and choose. It’s either all in, or we’re playing church.

And I’m done playing church.

I’m done saying, “God, I’ll obey if…” or “I’ll obey when…” I want to be found faithful even when it’s dark, even when I’m scared, even when the outcome is unclear.

I want to be the kind of woman who obeys God with tears streaming down her face, with shaky hands and a surrendered heart, trusting that His way is better—even when it breaks mine.

1 Samuel 15:22 says, “To obey is better than sacrifice.”
God isn’t impressed by how many Bible studies I attend, or how eloquently I can talk about faith. He’s looking at the posture of my heart. Am I willing to obey Him when no one’s clapping, when it’s inconvenient, when it costs me everything?

Because that’s when obedience becomes real.

Jesus said in John 14:15, “If you love me, keep my commandments.”

This isn’t about legalism. It’s about love.

I obey because I love Him. I love Him more than my comfort. More than my image. More than my timeline or dreams.

And tonight, I want to say this out loud as a prayer:


Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve obeyed selectively. For the moments I negotiated with You as if You owe me options. You are not a consultant; You are King. Help me to walk in radical obedience—even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it costs me everything I thought I needed. I trust that what You ask of me is always for my good, even if I can’t see it yet. Make me the kind of woman who follows You without compromise. I want to live for Your glory, not my gain. In Jesus’ name, amen.

So here I am. A 25-year-old woman who doesn’t have it all figured out, but knows one thing for sure:

I’d rather be rejected by the world in obedience to God than accepted by the world in rebellion against Him.

And if obedience means I walk alone sometimes, I’ll still choose it.

Because I am committed.

Not halfway. Not occasionally. But fully, completely, and passionately—

Even when it hurts.


Triumphant Over Temptation: Shielding Your Soul from The Devil

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord,

This morning I woke up with a spark in my soul. It wasn’t just coffee or sunshine—no, it was something deeper. It was You. I felt Your whisper in the quiet: “Daughter, you are not fighting for victory; you are fighting from victory.” That truth struck my spirit like a bell. Loud, clear, and unshakeable.

But even with that promise, I know the battle still rages. Not a battle we can see with our eyes, but a spiritual war over our minds, our choices, our holiness. And the enemy—Satan—is subtle. He doesn’t come waving red flags. He slithers in like a suggestion, a craving, a “just this once.” He’s got tricks, but God, You’ve got truth.

Today, I want to talk about temptation—not in theory, but in reality. This isn’t just about resisting chocolate or scrolling too long. I’m talking about the kind of temptation that tries to snatch your soul little by little. The kind that chips away at your calling and numbs your convictions. And I’m writing this not to condemn, but to confront with compassion, because it’s real and it’s relentless.

What Are the Temptations of the Devil, Really?

Let’s not sugarcoat it: The devil studies us. He watches for weak spots. But he’s not original—he’s been recycling the same three temptations since Eden.

1 John 2:16 lays it out:

“For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but is of the world.”

Let’s unpack that gently but clearly:

  • Lust of the Flesh: These are desires that target our physical urges—sexual temptation, laziness, gluttony, addiction. Things that feel good but leave us empty.
  • Lust of the Eyes: This one’s crafty. It’s what we see and start to crave—bigger homes, perfect bodies, relationships we weren’t meant to have. It’s envy dressed as ambition.
  • Pride of Life: Maybe the most dangerous of all. It’s that inner voice that says, “I’ve got this. I don’t need God’s input.” That pride, beloved, is spiritual poison.

If we don’t name these for what they are, we won’t recognize when they knock.

How Do We Overcome Temptation?

Now here’s where we rise—not in our strength, but in His. The devil may be loud, but God is louder. And He didn’t leave us defenseless.

1. Know the Strategy of the Enemy

Ignorance is not holiness. We are called to be alert. 2 Corinthians 2:11 says:

“…so that Satan will not outsmart us. For we are familiar with his evil schemes.”

Satan thrives when we underestimate him. So learn his patterns. Don’t fear him—expose him. And do it by immersing yourself in the Word. Scripture isn’t a trophy. It’s a weapon.

2. Keep Your Eyes on Jesus

Peter only sank when he looked at the storm instead of the Savior (Matthew 14:30). We do the same. When we obsess over the temptation, we empower it. But when we fix our eyes on Jesus? That’s when we walk on water.

Hebrews 12:2 reminds us:

“Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…”

Look up. Not around.

3. Pray Like It’s Life or Death

Because honestly—it is. Temptation doesn’t knock politely; it barges in. Jesus said in Matthew 26:41:

“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Prayer isn’t last resort. It’s first response. Don’t wait until you’re drowning—start praying before your feet even touch the water.

A Prayer for the Tempted Heart

Heavenly Father,
I come before You with humility, knowing that my flesh is weak but Your Spirit is mighty within me. Strengthen me when temptation whispers. Remind me that sin never satisfies and that holiness is worth the fight. I submit my desires to You, Lord—make them holy. Fill the spaces where sin used to knock with Your peace, Your power, and Your presence.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

What to Do In the Moment of Temptation

Let’s be practical here. When that moment hits—when you’re alone, vulnerable, or discouraged—do this:

  • Pray for help. Cry out. God’s not afraid of your desperation.
  • Resist and flee. James 4:7 says: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
  • Turn away—literally. Close the laptop. Exit the room. End the conversation. Temptation grows when we linger.
  • Speak Scripture out loud. Jesus did it. We should too. (Matthew 4:1–11)

Replace the Thought—Immediately

2 Corinthians 10:5 says:

“We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

Don’t entertain sinful thoughts. Don’t replay them like a movie trailer. Replace them with God’s truth.

  • Temptation: “Nobody will know.”
    Truth: “The eyes of the Lord are everywhere.” (Proverbs 15:3)
  • Temptation: “Just one more time.”
    Truth: “Make no provision for the flesh.” (Romans 13:14)

Live Holy—On Purpose

We are not just called to avoid sin. We’re called to pursue righteousness. That means taking proactive steps:

  • Avoid triggers. Don’t go where sin is easy.
  • Armor up daily. Ephesians 6:11 reminds us: “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”
  • Choose godly community. You weren’t meant to fight alone.
  • Stay humble. Don’t flirt with pride. It will take you down fast.

Final Thoughts: Grace and Grit

Sister, brother—temptation is real. But so is our victory. And hear me clearly: Temptation is not sin. Jesus was tempted. Giving in is the sin. And if you’ve slipped—there’s grace. God’s mercy isn’t fragile. He doesn’t cancel His children when they fall. He lifts us. He restores. He loves.

But let us not use grace as a crutch to keep sinning. Let’s use it as a weapon to rise higher. The devil wants you distracted, discouraged, and defeated. But Christ already won. So let’s live like it.

Romans 8:37 says:

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”

Not barely surviving. More than conquerors. That’s who we are.

So today, let’s fight—not with fear, but with faith. Let’s live—not with shame, but with strength. And let’s walk—not in compromise, but in conviction.

Tempted to Wait? Breaking the Devil’s Procrastination Spell

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I feel a war raging inside of me—not the loud, chaotic kind, but the kind that simmers in silence. The kind that looks like scrolling for an hour before doing anything meaningful, like leaving dishes in the sink again, like hearing the Holy Spirit nudge and still choosing “later.”

But here’s the truth: later is a lie.

And I’m tired of lying to myself.

I’ve come to realize that procrastination isn’t just a bad habit—it’s spiritual warfare in slow motion. It’s subtle, deceptive, and deadly. It wears a cozy robe and speaks in soft whispers: “You’ve got time.” “It can wait.” “You’re just tired.” But those whispers are laced with poison. They lull you to sleep while your destiny waits outside your door, untouched.

“The sluggard does not plow in season; so at harvest time he looks but finds nothing.”
—Proverbs 20:4 (NIV)

This verse smacked me in the face today. I wonder how many harvests I’ve missed because I refused to plow in season? How many doors I’ve closed myself because I was waiting for the “perfect” moment that never came?

I know God is gracious. He restores. But I can’t keep banking on grace to bail me out of every delay I choose. That’s not grace anymore—that’s spiritual immaturity.

Lord, forgive me.

Today I looked around and realized how much procrastination has cost me—emotionally, physically, financially, even spiritually. The stress I feel every time I push a deadline is not random; it’s a symptom. A symptom of avoidance. A symptom of fear. And fear…is not of God.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”
—2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV)

Father, help me believe this. Help me walk in the power You’ve already given me. I don’t want to keep putting off my life. I don’t want to waste another hour avoiding the hard things You’ve called me to do.

And that’s the part that’s hitting me hardest right now—You called me. Me. You didn’t give me gifts and dreams just for decoration. You gave them for Kingdom purpose. How dare I keep laying them aside for social media, comfort food, or endless distractions?

How dare I say “maybe tomorrow” when Your Word says:

“Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city…’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”
—James 4:13-14 (NIV)

I’ve been acting like I’m promised time I’ve never been guaranteed.

Holy Spirit, I repent.

I don’t want a hardened heart. I don’t want to keep ignoring that still small voice that says, “Do it now.” I think of Felix in Acts 24—how he heard the truth, trembled at Paul’s words, and still said, “Come back when it’s convenient.” And that convenient moment never came.

How many of us are spiritually waiting for convenience?

No more.

I’m done waiting for a mood, for motivation, for perfect timing. Those things are unreliable idols. They don’t deserve to dictate my purpose. Only You do, God.

I’m not claiming victory over the temptation of procrastination, but today I took a baby step. I wrote this post entry instead of sleeping in. I washed half the dishes instead of all of them—because progress, not perfection. I prayed instead of numbing with a YouTube rabbit hole. It wasn’t big, but it was faithful.

And You meet me in faithfulness.

“Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.”
—Proverbs 16:3 (ESV)

I’m realizing that procrastination is a form of rebellion—it’s telling God, “I know better than You when and how this should get done.” It’s disobedience dressed up as delay.

Lord, I don’t want delayed obedience anymore. I want a heart that moves when You say move. I want discipline, not because I’m naturally good at it, but because I lean on Your Spirit.

You say the fruit of the Spirit is self-control. So I claim that today. I have self-control in Christ. I can start now. I can finish what I started. I can resist the urge to escape.

God, take my weak moments. Fill them with Your strength.

I don’t need to wait for a better season. This is the season You’ve given me. And I refuse to waste it.

Lord, let me be diligent. Let me be faithful in small things. Help me to show up—even when I don’t feel like it. Help me resist the lies that tell me I’ll never change. Let Your truth override every excuse.

And help me to hold others accountable in love—because if procrastination is killing our generation softly, I want to be a voice that speaks life and urgency and purpose.

I won’t be silent about this. It’s time to wake up.

Resist the Temptation of Procrastination

I want to be completely honest with you, I’m still learning. But here’s how God has been teaching me to resist the temptation of procrastination:

1. Call on the Holy Spirit

When I’m tired or overwhelmed, I lean on this promise:

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness…” — Romans 8:26 (ESV)

And when I feel lazy or unfocused, I remind myself:

“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” — 2 Timothy 1:7 (ESV)

Self-control is not something I produce—it’s a fruit of the Spirit. So I ask Him daily to grow that fruit in me.

2. Take Action by Faith

Sometimes, I have to move before I feel like it. I heard a pastor once say, “Motion activates emotion.” It’s true. Even doing something small (like starting a task for just 15 minutes) can create momentum.

Faith doesn’t always look like big, dramatic acts. Sometimes faith looks like answering that email, or getting out of bed to pray, or finishing what you started.

3. Use Tools—But Start with Prayer

Before I touch my to-do list or planner, I pray:

“Lord, order my steps today. Help me walk in your will, and not waste what you’ve entrusted to me.”

Then I’ll use practical tools like the Pomodoro technique (25 minutes work, 5-minute break) or break a big task into tiny, manageable steps. God is not against structure—He designed order into the universe!

4. Stay Accountable

I’ve asked two godly friends to help me with this. We check in weekly—not to shame each other, but to lovingly remind one another that obedience is worth it.


God, I thank You for revealing to me the spiritual weight of procrastination. Forgive me for every time I’ve ignored Your call, delayed my purpose, or chosen comfort over obedience. Today I choose to trust You with my time, my tasks, and my tiny steps forward. Help me resist fear and distraction. Fill me with the fruit of self-control, and let diligence rise in me like a holy fire. I surrender my timeline to You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Feasting Without Fulfillment: Battling the Temptation of Overindulgence

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, I had to sit down and pour my heart out because this battle with overindulgence has been quietly gnawing at the edges of my faith. And honestly, I’m sick of pretending that it’s not affecting me. Whether it’s food, social media, endless scrolling, or just chasing the next little high—I’ve let too many earthly things take up space in my soul where only You belong.

Overindulgence isn’t just about excess; it’s about idolatry. That’s what You’ve been pressing on my heart lately. It’s not just me failing to “have discipline.” It’s me turning to broken cisterns that hold no water (Jeremiah 2:13) when You, the fountain of living water, are right here. I’ve made small gods out of comfort, distraction, and instant gratification.

And yet… You still pursue me.

“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”
– 1 Corinthians 10:13

That verse hits me different now. You don’t abandon me in the temptation—you make escape routes. But am I taking them? Or am I choosing to sit in the flame because I like the warmth, even though I know it’s burning me?

Lord, You know my heart. You know that when I reach for more food, more comfort, more scrolling—what I’m really reaching for is peace, joy, control… something to numb the ache. But only You satisfy.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
– Matthew 5:6

I want to be filled with righteousness, not with stuff. Not with momentary pleasures. Not with counterfeit comforts. The more I stuff myself with the world, the emptier I feel. You didn’t design me to live like this.

You are my portion.
You are my peace.
You are more than enough.

I remember when Jesus was in the wilderness. Satan tempted Him with all the world’s comforts, and Jesus didn’t negotiate or reason—He responded with the Word. That’s where I need to go back. Scripture isn’t just knowledge, it’s weaponry.

“It is written: Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
– Matthew 4:4

(CLICK THE PLAY BUTTON TO PRAY WITH ME)

I’ve been living on bread alone—on dopamine hits and empty calories of worldly joy. But I crave the Bread of Life. Jesus, You are that Bread.

Holy Spirit, help me walk by You, not by the flesh. Galatians 5:16 says if I do that, I won’t gratify the desires of the flesh. It’s not just about saying “no” to the temptation—it’s about saying a louder, more wholehearted “YES” to You. I can’t white-knuckle my way out of this. I need transformation from the inside out.

Lord, expose the lies I believe. The lie that I need “just one more bite,” or “just one more episode,” or “just a little retail therapy.” Rip the mask off of every false savior in my life. I want to see it for what it is—a thief of joy, a robber of peace.

And You… You are the Good Shepherd who restores my soul.
You don’t shame me. You sanctify me.

You say:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
– 2 Corinthians 12:9

That means I don’t have to fake strength I don’t have. I can bring You the mess, the cravings, the cycle of overdoing it and regretting it. I can confess it—not as someone who’s defeated—but as someone who knows victory is coming, not because of me, but because of Christ in me.

Father, teach me contentment. Teach me to be grateful for the portion You give. Gratitude is such a weapon—it disarms the discontentment that fuels my overindulgence. When I thank You for what I have, I stop obsessing over what I think I lack.

“Give us this day our daily bread…”
Not tomorrow’s, not next week’s, not Costco-sized spirituality. Daily. You want me to trust You one day at a time, and that’s enough.

Also, thank You for the people You’ve placed in my life who love me enough to hold me accountable. You never meant for me to walk through temptation alone. Community isn’t optional—it’s essential. Whether it’s through prayer, confession, or just checking in, I’m reminded that the enemy thrives in isolation, but dies in the light.

Tonight, I’m choosing to step into that light.

How to Resist the Temptation of Overindulgence (With God’s Help)

1. Recognize the Root

Overindulgence isn’t just bad behavior—it’s misplaced belief.

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
— Matthew 6:21

I need to ask: What am I really craving? Is it comfort? Validation? Control? Peace? Once I recognize that the “thing” isn’t the real issue, I can begin to let Jesus meet the real need.

2. Pray Immediately and Intentionally

When temptation rises, I’m learning to stop and pray—even if it’s a whisper:

“Father, lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil” (Matthew 6:13).

Temptation thrives in silence. But when I bring God into the moment, the grip starts to loosen. He doesn’t expect me to be perfect—He wants me to be dependent.

3. Use Scripture as a Weapon

When Jesus was tempted, He didn’t argue—He quoted truth.

“It is written…” —Matthew 4:4

Here’s what I’m memorizing now:

  • “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Psalm 84:11)
  • “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1)
  • “Walk by the Spirit and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Galatians 5:16)

These verses are my ammo when I feel weak. They remind me that I lack nothing in Christ.

4. Practice Mindfulness

Sometimes I give in without thinking. But now I pause and ask:

  • What triggered this?
  • What am I feeling?
  • What lie am I believing?

I’ve started slowing down—especially when eating, scrolling, or shopping. When I move slower, I see clearer. I’m not meant to numb myself with noise but to notice what God’s already doing.

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

5. Establish Boundaries

I deleted a few apps today. Not because I’m “so spiritual,” but because I’m so easily distracted. I’ve created boundaries around meals, screen time, and spending.

Because honestly, why fight temptation on its turf when I can just flee?

“Flee from youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace…” —2 Timothy 2:22

6. Distract with Purpose

When a craving hits, I redirect it with intentional action:

  • Go on a walk and pray.
  • Read a Psalm aloud.
  • Text a godly friend.
  • Put on worship music and sing (even badly).

Distraction isn’t bad when it leads me to the One who actually satisfies.

7. Visualize Success in Christ

I don’t have to be a slave to “I can’t help myself.” That’s not my story anymore.

“You are not your own, for you were bought with a price.” —1 Corinthians 6:19–20

When I visualize myself resisting temptation—by God’s grace—I’m reminding myself that victory is possible. Not because of me, but because the Holy Spirit lives in me.

8. Seek Accountability

I confessed to a sister in Christ today. I told her about the areas I’m struggling with, and she didn’t judge me—she prayed with me.

Overindulgence thrives in secret. But confession brings healing.

“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” —James 5:16

9. Get Rest

Overindulgence creeps in when I’m tired, burned out, and empty. Jesus Himself rested. So who am I to try to live without it?

“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” —Matthew 11:28

When I rest in Him, I don’t need to reach for false comforts. I’m filled already.

10. Cultivate Gratitude Daily

Gratitude isn’t fluff—it’s spiritual warfare.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” —1 Thessalonians 5:18

I’ve started writing down 3 things I’m thankful for each day. It’s harder to crave more when I realize I already have so much in Christ.

God, I surrender my cravings to You. I lay down every place in my heart that I’ve tried to fill without You. Heal the root, not just the symptoms. Cleanse my heart, renew my mind, and help me find true satisfaction in You alone. Teach me to recognize temptation for what it is—and give me the strength and desire to flee from it.

Father, I confess my need for You. I’m not strong on my own. But with You, I have victory. With You, I can walk in freedom. Let my life glorify You, not my own pleasure.

Help me, Lord, to live in step with Your Spirit. Help me say no to what harms me, and yes to what brings You glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

One step at a time. One prayer at a time. I will not be defined by my struggles—I will be refined by God’s strength.

Jesus didn’t die so I could live in bondage. He died so I could live in freedom.

And I choose that freedom—today and every day after.

Silencing the Serpent: Conquering the Sin of Gossip

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today was hard.

I had a moment where I could’ve gossiped. It would’ve been easy. It would’ve even felt good for a fleeting second, like scratching an itch that I know will only make the wound worse.

I was with two girls from work during lunch break, and we got to talking about another coworker—let’s call her T. They started talking about how T always shows up late and how the manager seems to overlook it. It was subtle at first, like one of those little threads you pull without thinking—but then it turned into a full unraveling. Her personal life. Her clothes. Even her laugh.

I opened my mouth. I was ready to add my two cents. But the Holy Spirit stopped me cold.

It hit me like a whisper and a warning at the same time: “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying…” (Ephesians 4:29).

I bit my tongue. I literally had to sip my water to avoid talking. And then I changed the subject. “Hey, has anyone heard about the fundraiser next week?” It was awkward. They gave me this look like I was being too holy or too sensitive. I wanted to feel offended, but instead I felt peace. And conviction.

Later, in my quiet time with the Lord, I opened my Bible and I wept. I wept not because I messed up—but because I almost did. I wanted to. I wanted to gossip. I wanted to belong.

And that scared me.

Gossiping feels like a soft temptation. It doesn’t look evil. It doesn’t come with fangs or a pitchfork.

It comes with coffee and eye-rolls and shared secrets. But behind its charm is a deep demonic agenda: division, destruction, and death of character.

Proverbs 16:28 says, “A perverse person stirs up conflict, and a gossip separates close friends.”

Lord, forgive me for ever being that person. Forgive me for the times I entertained gossip or contributed to it, even if I didn’t start it. I see now—it’s not about who started it, it’s about who stopped it.

And I want to be a woman who stops it.

But let’s be real, Lord. That’s hard.

I live in a world where gossip is currency.

It’s how people bond, how social ladders are climbed. Even Christian circles are not exempt. And that’s what breaks my heart the most. I’ve seen churches divided over whisper campaigns. I’ve seen pastors slandered, friendships ruined, ministries halted… all because someone thought they knew something and couldn’t keep it to themselves.

So today, I’m confronting it—within myself first. This is war.

Because the devil doesn’t come just to tempt us with big sins. He loves the ones that look small but rot us from the inside out. Gossip is one of them.

James 3:6 reminds me, “The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body…” And if we’re not careful, we start setting other people’s lives on fire, while standing there pretending we’re just holding a candle.

No more. I choose the narrow road.

(Please pray with me by TAPPING on the Image “Morning Prayer To Start The Day“)

God,


I come before You humbled and hungry for righteousness. I don’t want to use my words to hurt. I want to use them to heal. If I can’t speak life, let me speak silence. Give me discernment to recognize gossip even when it’s disguised as “concern.” Give me courage to change the subject, walk away, or call it out in love.

Convict me, Holy Spirit, whenever I begin to stray. I give You full access to my tongue, my heart, and my motives. Cleanse me. Refine me. Make me holy, even in my conversations. Amen.

I’m learning that resisting gossip isn’t just about what I say, but why I want to say it. If I feel better about myself by tearing someone else down, that’s not just sin—it’s a wound I haven’t allowed God to heal yet.

So now, before I open my mouth about someone else, I’m going to ask:

  1. Would I say this if they were here?
  2. Is this true, necessary, and kind?
  3. Is this building someone up or tearing someone down?

If I can’t answer all three with integrity, I won’t say a word.

I also want to do better about speaking for people instead of about them.


If I see a friend being slandered, I will defend her. If I hear a rumor, I’ll kill it with truth. If someone starts gossiping, I will not just ignore it—I’ll challenge it. With grace, but also with boldness.

We’re not called to be passive Christians. Jesus flipped tables. He confronted sin. And I will, too—starting with my own mouth.

If you want to honor God, guard your tongue. Gossip won’t make you more loved or more respected. It may feel good in the moment, but it rots your witness and wounds your soul. Choose the harder road. You’ll never regret silence, but you may regret every careless word.

Matthew 12:36 says, “But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken.”

That verse both terrifies and empowers me. Because it reminds me that every word I speak matters. Every single one.

So tomorrow, Lord willing, when I face another chance to gossip—or to steer a conversation away from it—I will remember this prayer, this verse, and this vow. I will speak life. I will choose holiness over popularity. And I will remind the devil that he can’t have my tongue.

Not today. Not ever.

In Jesus’ mighty name….

From Idle to Inspired: Overcome The Temptation of Laziness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today was one of those mornings where I woke up feeling like doing absolutely nothing. No motivation, no fire, no sense of urgency. Just… stillness. But not the peaceful kind—the empty kind. And I knew, deep down, this wasn’t just exhaustion. It was laziness. Spiritual laziness. Mental laziness. Physical laziness. The dangerous kind that slowly drains your purpose and clouds your God-given vision. And I’m not okay with that.

I sat in silence, holding my coffee like it had answers. But it didn’t. So I turned to the One who always does. The conviction hit me hard—laziness is sin. Not just a personality trait or a “bad habit.” It’s rebellion in disguise. The Holy Spirit reminded me of Proverbs 13:4: “The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing, while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.” That pierced me. I crave results, change, purpose—but if I don’t move, I don’t receive. Craving without action is futility. And God doesn’t bless futility. He blesses faithfulness.

So I confessed it right there in prayer.
“Father, forgive me. I’ve let laziness creep into my heart like a thief. I’ve made excuses for my inaction and buried my gifts under the weight of comfort. I repent. Not just with words, but with a shift in mindset and behavior. Please help me walk in discipline and diligence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

It’s easy to talk about big dreams and divine purpose, but faith without works is dead (James 2:17). Laziness kills vision. I’ve seen it in my own life—missed opportunities, last-minute scrambling, dreams that remain only dreams. It’s a spiritual war, and I’m done losing this battle.

This world tells me to “rest,” “take it easy,” “don’t push too hard.” But the Bible tells me to run my race with endurance (Hebrews 12:1), redeem the time (Ephesians 5:16), and work heartily, as for the Lord (Colossians 3:23). So no, I’m not settling for spiritual slumber anymore. I’m choosing holy hustle.

One thing I’ve learned? Overcoming laziness requires structure and surrender. It starts in the Spirit, but it shows up in systems.

I’m setting goals this week—real, actionable ones. Not just “be more productive,” but specific steps like waking up at 6:30 a.m. for quiet time, planning my day the night before, and setting work intervals with intentional breaks. I know myself—I need both discipline and grace.

And I’m going back to Scripture like it’s my lifeline—because it is. 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds me, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” Laziness is not my portion. Self-control is. Power is. Love is.

And let’s talk about that—self-control. It’s a fruit of the Spirit, not a personality trait. Which means if I’m walking closely with God, I will have the ability to resist laziness. Not because I’m naturally driven, but because He is supernaturally transforming me.

Galatians 5:22-23 is on repeat in my spirit: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control…” That’s who I want to be. A woman full of fruit—not excuses.

I’ve realized laziness grows in the soil of disconnection. When I neglect prayer, ignore the Word, or skip worship, laziness fills the gap. But when I stay close to Jesus, I’m compelled to move—because His Spirit breathes life into everything.

So I’m committing (again) to spiritual discipline. Morning and night prayers. Worship on my lips, not just in my playlist. Bible open before I open social media. If I’m going to break this cycle, it’s going to be through consistency and obedience.

Also—charity. That’s been on my heart too. Not just working on me, but pouring out. Laziness isn’t just sitting still, it’s living selfishly. So I’m going to serve. Somewhere. Somehow. Whether it’s at church, a shelter, or mentoring someone younger, I refuse to make excuses for not giving back. Love is active.

And here’s the truth: Every single day is a gift. And one day, I’ll give an account to God for how I used it. Did I glorify Him with my time? Or did I bury it in binge-watching, scrolling, and saying “I’ll do it tomorrow”?

That thought humbles me and lights a fire in my soul.

So I declare this: I will not waste the breath God gave me.
I will not sleep on the purpose He planted in me.
I will not call sloth “self-care” when it’s really spiritual apathy.
I was made for more. I will live like it.

Romans 12:11 says, “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord.” That’s the goal: fervent. Passionate. Awake. Alive.

This life is a vapor. Time is sacred. Laziness is a thief. But God is faithful. And through Him, I can overcome.

So today, I fight back.


Not with noise, but with action.
Not with perfection, but with persistence.
Not in my own strength, but with the help of the Holy Spirit.

Let the world sleep—I’ve got work to do. Eternal work.
Let my legacy be one of diligence, not delay.
Let me die empty, not full of untapped potential.

Amen.

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