Tag: bible

Breaking the Chains of Gold: Overcoming Satan’s Material Mirage

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear God,

Today I felt the pull again.

You know what I’m talking about—that tug in my heart when I saw someone online unboxing their designer shoes, or when I passed by the display window with the newest iPhone glowing like it was made of light from Heaven itself (spoiler: it’s not). It’s that tiny whisper that says, “If only you had that, you’d feel more complete.”

But today… I confronted it.

Not with bitterness. Not with shame. But with truth. With Scripture. With love. And with the awareness that materialism is a trap that tries to take what God has already given me—peace, joy, and identity—and exchange it for plastic, fabric, and pixels.

So this entry is both a reminder for myself and maybe a word for anyone who might read this one day: Materialism is a temptation, but it is not stronger than the God who lives in us.

The Debate: Is Wanting More Always Wrong?

Let me be clear—owning things isn’t a sin. The problem isn’t the things—it’s the thirst.

It’s when desire becomes dependence.
It’s when convenience becomes coveting.
It’s when God’s provision isn’t “enough” anymore because the world’s glitter looks more appealing than His glory.

I’ve heard the argument before:

“What’s wrong with wanting nice things? God wants us to prosper!”

And yes, that’s partly true—God is a God of abundance (John 10:10). But His definition of abundance isn’t luxury; it’s life. His blessings are meant to be tools, not idols.

Luke 12:15 cuts right to it:

“Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.”

So, no—it’s not wrong to have things. But it is dangerous to let things have us.

The Emotional Weight of Always Wanting More

Materialism feeds on dissatisfaction.

It thrives in a heart that’s forgotten to say, “Thank You, Lord.”

Have you noticed how quickly joy fades after buying something new?

That dopamine hit? That little rush? It’s fleeting. The shoes get scuffed. The phone gets outdated. The couch gets coffee stains.

But the lie lingers: “Next time, next thing—then you’ll be happy.”

That cycle is exhausting. And sadly, it’s so easy to fall into it—even as a Christian.

But God didn’t call us to strive endlessly for more. He called us to rest in Him.

1 Timothy 6:6–8 says:

“But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.”

That verse is a whole sermon. Everything I “own” is temporary. But my relationship with Jesus? That’s eternal. That’s treasure.

How I’m Choosing to Fight Back

I won’t pretend it’s easy. Fighting materialism in a culture built on it is like trying to stay dry in the rain without an umbrella. But God gave us a few:

1. Gratitude is My Umbrella

I try every day to thank God for what I already have. Not just the “big” stuff like shelter or food (though those are HUGE blessings!), but the little things:

  • Clean water
  • My morning coffee
  • A call from my mom
  • The way the sky looked today

Gratitude turns the volume down on materialism. It reminds my soul, “God is already enough.”

2. I Set Boundaries With My Spending

I’ve made a budget. I actually pray over it. (I know that sounds nerdy, but it works!)

Each month I ask God to help me steward what He’s given me wisely. I don’t spend money just because I feel bored, sad, or “less than.” I ask myself, “Is this purchase trying to fix an emotional or spiritual hole?”

Because only Jesus can do that.

Proverbs 21:20 reminds me:

“The wise store up choice food and olive oil, but fools gulp theirs down.”

A fool gulps. A wise woman prays, plans, and pauses.

3. I Focus On Eternal Investments

You know what feels better than buying something new? Giving something away.

I’ve found so much joy in donating clothes, blessing someone with a meal, or tithing to my church. It’s a quiet kind of thrill—the kind that lasts.

Jesus said in Matthew 6:19–21:

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth… But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

My heart belongs in Heaven. So that’s where I want my investments to go.

A Gentle Confrontation for My Fellow Christians

With love—and I mean real, Christ-like love—I want to challenge anyone who feels that ache to constantly buy, upgrade, or show off:

Ask yourself: Why am I doing this?

  • Is it to impress someone?
  • Is it because you’re bored?
  • Is it because something inside feels empty?

Be honest. Not harsh, but honest. Honesty is where healing begins.

And remember: The world teaches us to collect. Jesus teaches us to connect.

With people. With Him. With purpose.

A Prayer for the Material-Weary Soul

Heavenly Father,

You know how easy it is to get caught up in wanting more. We’re surrounded by messages telling us we need to buy, upgrade, and consume. But You call us to something higher—a life of contentment, generosity, and joy in You.

Please guard my heart from the lie that things will make me happy. Teach me to be grateful. Teach me to budget with wisdom. And teach me to invest in what really matters—people, purpose, and Your presence.

Forgive me when I fall into temptation. And help me walk in the freedom You promised.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

(CLICK ON MY PICTURE BELOW TO PRAY WITH ME PLEASE 👇)

You are not what you own.
You are not behind if you don’t have the “latest.”
You are not less valuable if your car isn’t new or your home isn’t Pinterest-perfect.

You are loved by a God who gave everything—not so you could have more stuff, but so you could have life.

I’m choosing that life every day. And even when it’s hard… it’s worth it.

Heaven’s Watch: God’s Angels on Guard

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

My spirit is stirred, and the joy of the Lord is radiating from deep within me. There are days when life feels like a battlefield, when discouragement creeps in like a shadow, and fear taps softly at the door. But today, I feel surrounded—not by dread—but by divine protection. I feel wrapped in the love of God, and yes, I believe with everything in me that God’s angels are our bodyguards….allow me to explain!

Psalm 91:11 says, “For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.” This isn’t just poetic language; it’s a promise, a heavenly reality that we, as children of God, can cling to in faith. I know it sounds bold to say, but I truly believe our lives are not wasted, not overlooked, and certainly not unprotected. God sees us. He loves us. And He sends His angels to walk beside us—not because we deserve it, but because He is good.

Why would God care enough to send angels?

I mean… I’m just a 25-year-old Christianwoman trying to live out her faith with joy and integrity in a world that often mocks or misunderstands both. And yet, He cares. The Bible tells us over and over again how intimately God is involved in our lives. One of my favorite passages is from Luke 12:7: “Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

I remind myself of this when I start to question, “Why would God guard me?” The truth is, He loves me, and He loves you too. We’re not just dots on a map or faces in a crowd. We are His children, made in His image, and treasured beyond what our human hearts can understand.

Angels: More Than Pretty Decorations

Let’s talk about angels. Not the glittery kind you see on Christmas cards. Not even the ones people hang in their cars like little guardians on a keychain. I’m talking about heavenly warriors, messengers of light, and servants of the Most High God.

Hebrews 1:14 says, “Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?” That’s us, friends. If you belong to Jesus, you’ve inherited salvation, and angels are part of God’s way of serving and protecting you.

They’re not magical beings doing their own thing. They are under God’s command, acting according to His perfect will. Psalm 103:20 says, “Praise the Lord, you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word.”

But what about the Devil quoting Psalm 91?

Let’s be real—Satan loves to twist the Word. In Matthew 4:6, the devil dares to quote Psalm 91 while tempting Jesus. I used to find this terrifying—like, if Satan knows Scripture, how can I ever be sure I’m interpreting it correctly?

But here’s the thing: Jesus didn’t fall for it. He responded with truth and discernment. He didn’t get into an argument or feel confused. He simply said, “It is written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test’” (Matthew 4:7). Jesus knew the heart of His Father. He wasn’t going to act recklessly just to prove that God’s promises are real.

And neither should we.

Faith isn’t about testing God—it’s about trusting Him, even when things don’t go our way. God’s promises aren’t a formula. They’re not conditions for comfort. They are truths rooted in relationship.

So… what does that mean for us today?

It means that God’s angels guard us in every unseen way. They are behind the “near misses” and the “I don’t know how I made it through that” moments. They are part of the divine orchestra God uses to work all things together for our good (Romans 8:28).

I think of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. He was tired. He was broken. And he wanted to give up. But what did God do? He sent an angel—not with a scolding, but with food and rest. That angel didn’t shame Elijah; he ministered to him. That’s the God we serve. One who meets us in our weakness and provides strength.

Understanding the Role of Angels in Christian Life

God is not passive. He is proactive. He’s not waiting around, wringing His hands. He has angels on assignment. For me. For you.

But listen—let’s get one thing clear. This promise doesn’t mean life is easy or pain-free. If anything, Jesus straight-up told us: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). He never sugarcoated the journey, and neither will I. Trouble is promised. Pain is real. Spiritual warfare is constant. And still—still—we are covered.

I used to treat God’s protection like a good luck charm. If something went wrong, I thought maybe I hadn’t prayed enough. Maybe I missed my morning devotional and now the consequences were raining down. But that’s not grace. That’s superstition. God isn’t transactional. He’s relational. And when He says He’s given His angels charge over us, He’s not saying “only if you check every religious box.” He’s saying: “Because you are Mine, I will guard you.”

That said, protection is not permission to act foolishly. The devil tried that game with Jesus in the wilderness, quoting Psalm 91 out of context: “If You are the Son of God, throw Yourself down… for it is written: ‘He shall give His angels charge over you…’” (Matthew 4:6). And what did Jesus say? “It is written again, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’” Boom. Truth over manipulation.

Satan knows Scripture. He just doesn’t submit to it.

And that scares me—not because I’m afraid of him, but because I know how easy it is for us humans to do the same. We twist the Word to match our agenda, cherry-pick verses to soothe our sin, and call it faith. But it’s not. That’s counterfeit Christianity. The real thing? It humbles us. It transforms us. It confronts our pride and comforts our soul, both at the same time.

So what do I learn from angels being assigned to me? I learn that God’s love is both ferocious and tender. That He’s not just watching over me—He’s commanding legions to surround me. I’m not alone in my room. I’m not alone in my anxiety. I’m not alone in the fight. That makes me want to shout and fall on my face all at once.

But it also makes me responsible.

Because if I believe this—if I really believe I’m surrounded by heavenly protection—I have no excuse for living in fear. I don’t get to say, “But what if this happens? What if God doesn’t show up?” No. I need to walk like someone who has the King’s army behind her.

I hear the Spirit say, “Daughter, walk in obedience. I’ve got the rest.”

So I will. I’ll go where God sends me—even if it’s dangerous, even if it’s uncomfortable. But I won’t go trying to provoke a miracle just to prove He loves me. That’s not faith. That’s arrogance.

Lord, forgive me for every time I’ve asked You to “show up,” as if You hadn’t already promised to never leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). Help me walk humbly, live boldly, and trust deeply.

A Prayer from My Heart Today:

Lord, thank You for commanding Your angels to guard me in all my ways. Thank You for loving me so completely that You watch over my soul, my body, and my journey. Help me to trust in Your protection—not just in theory, but in daily life. When fear whispers lies, remind me of the truth in Your Word. Let me walk in confidence, not arrogance—knowing that I am not alone. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

The Bigger Picture: Why God Doesn’t Waste Our Lives

If God were careless, He wouldn’t command armies of angels to protect His people. If God were indifferent, Jesus wouldn’t have come at all. But He did. He came, lived, died, and rose again—for us.

Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” You and I aren’t wandering through this world by accident. Our lives are woven with purpose, even when we can’t see the full picture.

God is not wasteful. Not with our time, not with our pain, not with our prayers. Even the waiting seasons, the confusing seasons, the wilderness seasons—He uses it all. He sees what we can’t see. And while we walk forward in faith, His angels are guarding us, guiding us, and encouraging us along the way.

Are you still searching for peace?

Friend, if you’re reading this and your heart is aching for something more—please know that Jesus is the answer. He’s not a myth or a religious crutch. He is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6).

If you’re ready to invite Him into your life, here’s a prayer you can say. It’s not magic—it’s about your heart. But if you mean it, your life will never be the same:

Lord Jesus, I need You. Thank You for dying on the cross for my sins. I open the door of my life and receive You as my Savior and Lord. Thank You for forgiving my sins and giving me eternal life. Take control of the throne of my life. Make me the kind of person You want me to be. Amen.

And finally…..


God’s angels aren’t just with us in battles—they’re with us in beauty too. They don’t just show up in emergencies; they’re present in the ordinary, quiet moments of everyday life. Why? Because we are deeply, wildly, endlessly loved by a God who never wastes a single life. If you’re breathing today, there is purpose in it. And if you’re walking with Jesus, you are literally being watched over by the armies of heaven. Like—how amazing is that?

It honestly blows my mind that heaven moves on my behalf. Not because I’ve done anything to deserve it, but simply because I belong to Him. I don’t have to hustle for it. I just have to abide.

So here’s what I’m holding onto tonight: angels aren’t God’s “Plan B.” They’re part of His perfect plan to protect and guide me. They’re not responding to my commands—they’re obeying His. My job? Trust and obey. Even when it’s confusing. Even when it’s hard. Because the same God who sent angels to guard me also sent Jesus to save me. And if He didn’t hold back His own Son, why would He ever hold back what’s best for me?

So let the world do its thing. Let the storms roll in. I am covered. I am called. I am commissioned by the living God.

And honestly? That makes me want to sing loud, dance wild, and live boldly for His glory!

God’s Love Is Always and Forever

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

My heart is heavy, but full. I’ve been sitting with Psalm 138:8 all morning:

“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever.”

It hit me like a wave. God’s love endures forever—even when mine wavers, even when I don’t understand, even when I feel like I’ve messed up beyond redemption. His love remains. Unshaken. Unfailing. Unconditional.

I don’t know why, but lately, I’ve been questioning it—not with my mouth, but in the deepest corners of my heart. I still sing, “Jesus loves me, this I know,” but sometimes it feels like I’m just mouthing the words. Why is it so easy to say God loves us and yet so hard to believe it when life caves in?

Let’s be real. People don’t like to talk about doubt. Especially Christian women. We’re supposed to be pillars of faith, right? Sweet, smiling, always believing. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t wrestle. I’m a warrior of faith, yes, but I’m also a human woman with battle scars. Faith doesn’t mean I don’t question—it means I bring my questions to the throne.

And this week, I asked God why. Why I still wrestle to believe He loves me when I already know so many Scriptures, when I serve in my church, when I try to do what’s right. And He answered me in that quiet whisper that cuts through all the noise:

“Daughter, you’re trying to feel My love through your circumstances, not through My covenant.”

Whew.

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God reminded me that His love isn’t proven by my painlessness. That’s where we go wrong. We believe this lie: “If God really loves me, He won’t let me suffer.” But Jesus never said that. In fact, He promised the opposite:

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33

If Jesus—God in the flesh—wasn’t exempt from suffering, why do I think I should be? I’ve been holding God to a promise He never made. He didn’t promise ease. He promised presence. He didn’t promise comfort; He promised Christ-likeness.

And it wrecks me to realize how often I’ve measured His love by my pain level. As if tears mean abandonment. As if suffering equals distance. But in truth, the pain draws me closer to His heart. I’ve felt Him in the valley more vividly than I ever did on the mountaintop.

But here’s another lie I’ve battled:

“I don’t deserve God’s love.”

I’ve failed too many times. I’ve said things I shouldn’t. I’ve judged. I’ve envied. I’ve sinned. And in those moments, I tell myself I need to “earn” my way back into His grace. But that’s not the gospel. That’s religion. That’s performance. That’s pride wearing a mask.

The truth is this:

“We are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” — Romans 8:17

We are already loved. Not because of our “good days,” but because of grace. His love isn’t a reward; it’s a reality. A relentless one. A reckless one, even, if I can say that. It runs to me when I’m still a mess. It wraps me up when I feel dirty. It whispers, “You’re Mine,” even when I don’t recognize myself.

But maybe the hardest part is this:

“I don’t feel God’s love.”

And you know what? That’s okay. Feelings are not the thermostat of faith. They shift with sleep, hormones, the weather, a comment someone made on Instagram. My feelings don’t define truth. The Word does.

“But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him.” — Psalm 103:17

Everlasting. That’s not based on feelings. That’s based on who God is.

So if my heart feels numb or dry or disconnected, I’m learning not to panic. I’m learning to tune it. Just like a radio needs the right frequency to catch the music, my heart needs the right focus to catch His voice.

That’s what fearing the LORD and obeying His commandments does—it doesn’t earn His love; it aligns me with it. It clears the static. It sharpens my spiritual senses so I can receive what’s already being poured out.

So today, I prayed a bold, honest, slightly messy prayer. Maybe someone reading this needs to pray it too:

Dear God,


I believe Your love endures forever. But some days, I forget what that even means.
I’ve tried to measure Your love by the good things in my life—and I’m sorry.
I’ve doubted when things got hard.
I’ve run from You when I felt unworthy.
I’ve leaned on feelings instead of faith.

But today, I choose to trust Your Word over my emotions.
Tune my heart to receive Your love.
Break down the walls I’ve built in pain.
Teach me how to fear You rightly—not with terror, but with trembling reverence and wild trust.


Your love is not weak. It’s not small. It’s not moody.
It’s forever. It’s fierce. It’s mine.

And I love You for it. Always and forever.
Amen.

I don’t know who needs this, but maybe you’re like me—compassionate but tired, faithful but frustrated, loved but struggling to believe it. I want to remind you:
You are not beyond His reach. His love is not fragile. His purpose will be fulfilled in your life.

So hold tight. Keep trusting. Keep tuning your heart.
He’s not finished with you yet.

When Faith Hurts: Does God See Christians Who are Struggling?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

God, I need to get this out. I can’t carry it around anymore.

I feel like I’m breaking.

I don’t doubt that You’re real. I never have. But I’m starting to wonder something way more painful—do You see me?

Do You really see me?

I’m not asking this as someone who’s lost faith. I’m asking it as someone whose faith hurts. Like physically aches. Like waiting-for-years, tears-on-my-bedroom-floor, why-do-I-keep-hoping kind of hurt.

I’ve prayed for so long. For healing. For direction. For a spouse. For financial breakthrough. For You to step in and rescue someone I love from addiction. For clarity. For peace. For things that are GOOD. Things I know You care about.

But I keep getting silence. Closed doors. Loneliness. More waiting.

Sometimes I feel like those people in Psalm 94. “And they say, ‘The Lord does not see; the God of Jacob does not perceive.’” (Psalm 94:7) I read that verse and think, Wow. That’s exactly how I feel sometimes. Like You don’t even notice.

And that terrifies me. Because what am I supposed to do when the God I believe in more than anything else feels distant or even—dare I say it—absent?

But then I keep reading…
“He who planted the ear, does he not hear? He who formed the eye, does he not see? … For the Lord will not forsake his people; he will not abandon his heritage.” (Psalm 94:9, 14)

That hits hard.

Because deep down, I know You see. You created my eyes. You crafted my ears. You wired my heart to crave connection with You. There’s no way You’re blind to my pain.

But still. It hurts.

God, why does it take so long sometimes? Why do You ask us to wait so long when You could change things with just a whisper?

Sometimes I feel like You’re just watching from a distance while I struggle to keep my faith intact. And then I immediately feel guilty for thinking that. Because I know it’s not true. I know You’re near. I know Your Word promises You’re “close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18), and that You “collect all our tears in a bottle” (Psalm 56:8).

But there’s a gap between what I know and what I feel. And I think You can handle me saying that.

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I think You want me to be honest, even if it’s ugly.

I don’t want to pretend anymore. I’m tired of the “bless and highly favored” church mask. I’m tired of acting like I’ve got unwavering peace when I’m crying in the shower and asking why my prayers seem to evaporate into the ceiling.

I want to trust You even when it feels like You’ve gone quiet. I want to believe—like the psalmist did—that even if deliverance isn’t here yet, it’s still coming.

Because he remembers, God. That’s what shook me when I read Psalm 94 again today. He reminded himself of all the times You had delivered him before. “If the Lord had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.” (Psalm 94:17)

That’s what I need. Remembrance.

You have been faithful before.
You have come through in impossible situations.
You have spoken when I least expected it.
You have saved me from things I didn’t even know were destroying me.

So maybe it’s not that You’re ignoring me now—maybe it’s just that You’re working behind the scenes in ways I don’t see yet. Maybe this “no” or “not yet” is actually a gift. Maybe You’re building something in me that comfort could never produce—like endurance, character, and a fierce kind of hope (Romans 5:3-5).

Still, it’s hard, Lord.

I’m not asking You to make life perfect. I’m not even asking You to take all the pain away (though if You did, I’d be grateful!). I’m just asking You to remind me that You’re near. That You haven’t forgotten. That I’m not crazy for continuing to believe You’ll show up.

Because every time I consider walking away from this faith—You pull me back.
Every time I want to give up praying—You whisper something small that gives me strength.
Every time I think You’ve abandoned me—You send someone to say exactly what I needed to hear.

So maybe that’s what trust looks like in this season. Not pretending I’m okay, but clinging to the truth that You are, even when I’m not.

Lord, I don’t want a fragile, feel-good faith that only works when life is pretty.
I want a real faith.


A rugged, blood-and-tears kind of faith.
A faith that doesn’t break in the silence.
A faith that remembers.

So I’m choosing—again—to believe that You see me.
Even when the job doesn’t come through.
Even when the loneliness lingers.
Even when the healing delays.
Even when my heart keeps breaking.

You see. You hear. You care. You save.

God, I don’t understand this waiting. But I trust You in it.


Help me believe You’re near even when it feels like You’re far.


Help me want You more than I want answers.


And give me peace that surpasses understanding—not peace that comes from things going my way, but peace that comes from knowing You are with me no matter what.
Give me joy in the waiting. Show me glimpses of Your goodness.


And when I get tired of hoping, remind me that hope in You is never wasted.


Amen.

Christian Thought for Today


What if the thing I’m waiting for isn’t being withheld… but being prepared? What if the delay is protection? What if the closed doors are really just reroutes to something so much better than what I even knew to pray for?

God, open my eyes to see what You see.

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Lifting Up Loved Ones: Praying for Those You Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Last night, I found myself staring at the ceiling again, heart heavy and mind racing. Not because I’m burdened by my own stuff—but because I can feel the weight of the people I love. Their pain. Their questions. Their wandering. Their silence.

And honestly? It wrecks me.
I don’t want to be the girl who watches people I love slip through life without Jesus. I want to be the one who fights on her knees.

But I had to start with a hard question:
When’s the last time I actually prayed for them? Like really prayed?

Not a “Lord, bless them” kind of prayer, but the kind that pulls heaven down to earth.

God doesn’t need my passive prayers. He wants my passion. My persistence. My boldness. So here I am—learning to pray like I mean it.

1. Pray for God to soften my heart first.

This might be the most uncomfortable step—but it’s the realest one. Before I intercede for others, I have to let God break me. I don’t want to pray from a place of pride, frustration, or spiritual superiority. I want to pray from love. Period.

Lord, give me a burden. That’s an old-school word, I know. But I want it. I want my heart to hurt for what hurts Yours. Break the apathy. Remove the judgment. Let me weep for them. Let me care deeply again.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” — Ezekiel 36:26

God, make my heart flesh again. Not cold, not passive, not comfortable. Tender. Ready to move at the whisper of Your Spirit.

2. Pray just to talk about Jesus.

This isn’t about crafting the perfect speech or waiting for the ideal moment. This is about boldness. Godly, humble boldness. I don’t want my conversations to stay surface-level forever. I want opportunities to bring up eternity.

“Pray for us… that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ.” — Colossians 4:3

God, open a door. Not just in their schedule, but in their heart. Give me a moment that can’t be explained by anything but divine timing. Give me courage to walk through it when it comes. Let me be ready, not scared.

No more waiting until “the right time.” The right time is now.

3. Pray that the words of Jesus take off like wildfire.

Sometimes I think we forget just how powerful His words are. When Jesus speaks, things shift. Darkness trembles. Chains break. Hope rises. His words don’t need our help—they just need our obedience to speak them.

“Pray that the Master’s Word will simply take off and race through the country to a groundswell of response…” — 2 Thessalonians 3:1 (MSG)

Lord, let Your Word run wild in their lives. Let it chase them down in the quiet moments. Speak to them in dreams. In songs. In conversations they didn’t expect. Let the name of Jesus echo until it becomes undeniable.

4. Pray for God to heal their hearts.

Hurt people hide behind sarcasm, silence, success, or straight-up rebellion. But when someone’s going through a storm, it’s often because God is softening something deep inside.

So instead of judging their mess, I’m learning to pray into their healing.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

God, bind up their wounds. Speak peace over the chaos. Show them that You’re not afraid of their broken pieces. You’re the God who walks into storms and speaks stillness. Walk into theirs, Lord. Let them feel You.

5. Pray for endurance on my end.

Let’s be honest: it’s exhausting praying for people who seem like they don’t care. It’s frustrating watching them self-destruct while you’re begging heaven for a breakthrough. But I’ve learned this: God doesn’t call me to fix them—He calls me to pray for them.

So I will.

Even when I don’t see it.
Even when they push me away.
Even when it feels pointless.

Because faith doesn’t wait for feelings. It stands. It believes. It persists.

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” — James 5:16

So I will pray powerful, effective prayers. Not because I’m perfect. But because I’m His. And I believe He moves when His kids pray like they believe He will.

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for placing these people in my life. I don’t believe in coincidence—I believe in calling. You’ve called me to love them, serve them, and fight for them in prayer. So today, I lift them up to You.

Soften my heart, Lord. Remove pride. Give me a burden that drives me to my knees daily.
Open the doors for conversations about You—real ones, honest ones. Give me boldness to speak and wisdom to listen.

Let Your Word catch fire in their lives. Let it chase them down and wake something up inside them.
Heal their wounds. Calm their storms. Make them whole, even if they don’t know how to ask for it yet.
And when I get tired, remind me that You never give up on me. So I won’t give up on them.

I trust You, Jesus. And I believe You’re already moving.
Amen.

Prayer isn’t a last resort—it’s the first line of battle.
And I refuse to let the people I love walk through life without someone warring for them in prayer.

Even if they never know it, I’ll be the one interceding.
Because that’s what love does.

Safe in God’s Hands: Conquering Fear Through Faith

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This weekend I faced fear in the mirror. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t shout or shake me. It just stared me down like it had something to prove. And for a split second—just a second—I let it. I let fear have the mic. I let it whisper all its what-ifs and why-nots into the corners of my mind.

But then I remembered who I am.
And more importantly, whose I am.

The Word hit me like a wave straight to my spirit:

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” — Isaiah 41:10

That’s not just poetry. That’s truth. That’s a promise.

Fear is a liar, and it loves to dress up like logic. It sneaks in disguised as “being realistic,” “protecting yourself,” or “thinking it through.” But really, it’s just a mask for unbelief. I’m not here to coddle fear anymore. I’m not making a bed for it in my spirit. I serve the Almighty God, and He didn’t give me a spirit of fear.

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7 (AMP)

I say this with fire in my chest: If God didn’t give it, I don’t want it. I’m rejecting fear like poison because that’s what it is—it slowly kills joy, hope, peace, and even purpose. And I am DONE letting fear kill anything in me that God has breathed life into.

(TAP HERE TO PRAY WITH ME PLEASE)

Here’s what’s wild though: fear feels real. And maybe that’s the point. Faith isn’t about feelings. It’s about choosing truth over feelings. It’s about standing firm when your knees want to buckle.

I had this moment today…
I was anxious—my heart pounding, palms sweaty, spiraling with thoughts of everything that could go wrong in my life. I could feel fear tightening its grip like a noose. But instead of letting it choke me, I imagined myself curled up in the lap of the Father. Not a distant, angry God—but Abba. A God who wraps His arms around me like a blanket and whispers over me:

“Do not fear, for I am with you…” — Isaiah 41:10 again. Yes, again. Because I need that Word on repeat.

And I felt His love.
Like really felt it.
Not earned, not negotiated. Just freely poured out.

That kind of love doesn’t just comfort—it casts out fear.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” — 1 John 4:18

God’s love doesn’t ignore fear—it evicts it. When I let Him in fully, fear has no legal right to stay. So why am I still renting it a room?

Time to confront this mess.

I love people deeply. But I’m also not afraid to speak boldly. Especially when I see fear running people’s lives. I’ve seen it paralyze dreams, crush marriages, stop ministries before they even begin. That’s not humility—that’s fear wearing a disguise.

God is not calling us to survive our lives. He’s calling us to live them boldly in His power. And that’s not pride—it’s faith.

Jeremiah 29:11 rings out like a battle cry in my soul:

“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.”

If I truly believe that, then fear has no place. Not in my mind, not in my decisions, and definitely not in my future.

So how do we fight fear?

We don’t fight alone.
We don’t fake it till we make it.
We face it with God beside us.
We let His love meet us right in the trembling.

Even when we’re scared, we walk forward. That’s what courage is. As Rick Warren said so perfectly,

“Courage is not the absence of fear; courage is moving ahead in spite of your fear.”

That hit me deep today. I’m not waiting until I feel brave to obey God. I’m just going to obey—and trust that courage will follow.

And when the voice of fear tries to whisper again, I’ll answer it with this:

“The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” — Psalm 118:6

Let that be tattooed on my soul.

God’s presence is greater than my panic.
His promises are louder than my anxieties.
And His power? It’s made perfect in my weakness.

If you’re reading this and you’ve never surrendered your life to Christ, I need you to know—He’s not waiting for you to get perfect. He’s waiting to love you now.

Here’s a simple prayer. Pray it with me, even if your voice shakes:

Prayer of Surrender:


Jesus, I’m tired of doing life on my own. I’ve been letting fear lead, and it’s only left me empty. I believe You are the Son of God. I believe You died for me and rose again. I ask You to come into my heart. Be my Lord, be my Savior, be my peace. I surrender my life, my fear, my future—everything—to You. Thank You for loving me. I receive Your love. Amen.

And for those of us already walking with Him—maybe today is the day we finally trust Him like we say we do.

I’m choosing courage. I’m choosing Christ.
Because fear doesn’t get the final word. Faith does.

Echoes of a Prayer: Finding Meaning in the Hail Mary

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today I sat with a prayer I used to avoid.

I’ve heard it whispered in cathedrals, chanted by rosary beads, and mumbled in funeral homes. The Hail Mary—a prayer that once made me uneasy. Not because of its words, but because of the way others react when you mention it, especially outside of Catholic circles.

(CLICK HERE TO PRAY THE HAIL MARY WITH ME PLEASE)

But the truth is… I’m done apologizing for reverence.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…”

This prayer begins with Scripture. Luke 1:28. Gabriel didn’t greet Mary with a casual “Hey.” He called her “full of grace.” That’s not flattery. That’s Heaven’s assessment. And I think that matters. When God chooses someone to carry the Savior, you don’t ignore that person just because it makes your theology uncomfortable.

I was raised in a non-denominational church. We didn’t “do” Mary. We skipped over her after the nativity scene like she was a prop, not a person. And yet… she was the first to say yes to Jesus. Before Peter preached at Pentecost. Before Paul wrote Romans. Before John baptized anybody. It was Mary who said yes to God in the silence of her womb and the scandal of her culture.

I pray the Hail Mary now not because I idolize her—but because I see her courage. I honor her “yes.”

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” – Luke 1:38

Mary wasn’t just obedient—she was brave. Brave enough to carry shame in a society that would stone her for premarital pregnancy. Brave enough to raise the Son of God knowing He was born to die. Her yes came with a sword—“a sword will pierce through your own soul also” (Luke 2:35)—and she still gave it.

Obedience is not cheap. It will cost your pride, your comfort, your reputation. And yet we still hesitate to honor the one who bore the cost before us? That’s fear. That’s pride. That’s arrogance masquerading as orthodoxy.

“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.”

This is Elizabeth speaking in Luke 1:42, under the anointing of the Holy Spirit. It’s praise. It’s prophetic. It’s the Spirit of God acknowledging that Mary’s womb was holy. That her obedience brought forth the Redeemer. Why are we afraid to repeat what Scripture declares?

(CLICK ABOVE TO PRAY WITH ME)

Every time I pray the Hail Mary, I think about how inconvenient it was for Mary to obey God. And yet, how quickly I make excuses when God tells me to forgive someone, or to speak truth when it’s uncomfortable. Mary’s story puts me in check. She reminds me that surrender to God always carries a price—but also, an eternal reward.

And maybe that’s why some people resist her. She convicts them without saying a word.

The final part of the prayer—“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death”—that’s the part that usually stirs controversy. “Why pray to Mary?” they ask. But here’s the thing: we’re not praying to Mary like she’s God. We’re asking for her intercession—like I would ask a prayer partner to lift me up.

If I believe the saints are alive in Christ (Romans 8:38-39), if I believe that we’re surrounded by a “great cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1), then why would I deny the reality that Mary, glorified and reigning with Christ, hears us through the Spirit?

She’s not my Savior—but she carried mine. I won’t worship her, but I will walk in her footsteps of obedience.

Tonight, I prayed the Hail Mary with full sincerity.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…”
And I felt peace—not idolatry, not distance from God—but deep, maternal peace. A peace that reminds me that God uses the humble. That God honors the lowly. That God calls us to impossible things and gives us His grace to do them.

Jesus is the center of this prayer. He always was. Even when we’re saying Mary’s name, the miracle in her womb—the reason she’s “blessed among women”—was Him.

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory…” – John 1:14

I’m not interested in soft Christianity that avoids anything uncomfortable. I’m not scared to look “too Catholic” if the words I’m saying are soaked in Scripture and full of truth. I’m not here to fit into a denomination. I’m here to know God.

And if a young woman in Nazareth could say yes to God at the cost of everything, then I can too.

So I’m going to keep praying the Hail Mary—not to be edgy, not to be pious, but because I see in it the echoes of God’s glory. Because I want my “yes” to carry weight like hers did. Because I’m learning that God’s story is bigger than our categories.

And because obedience—real, reverent obedience—is always worth it.

God,
Thank You for choosing the humble. Thank You for using Mary as a vessel to bring forth the Savior of the world. Help me never to shrink away from reverence. Teach me to honor what You honor, to love what You love. Give me the courage to say yes, even when it costs me everything.

May I carry Christ within me—not physically like Mary—but spiritually, through obedience, surrender, and bold faith.

I ask for the prayers of those who have gone before me, and I rest in the truth that Christ is always the center of every holy thing.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Grace That Lifts: Rising Again in God’s Strength

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, my heart is full—raw but full. I sat alone in my room, lights low, music off, and just stared at the ceiling with tears quietly slipping down the side of my face. Not because I felt sorry for myself, but because I realized how close I came to giving up… again.

Giving up on me.

(CLICK HERE TO PRAY WITH ME)

I don’t always say this out loud, but I’ve spent a good portion of this year silently fighting battles no one could see. And what’s worse? I almost believed the lie that I didn’t have it in me to keep going. Almost. But tonight, I got reminded—Grace doesn’t run out. God’s grace lifts.

You know, I’ve been reading 2 Corinthians 12:9 again and again.

“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’”

I used to quote that like a bumper sticker when things got hard. But now, I feel it. My weaknesses have exposed me this season. My pride took some hits. My plans didn’t unfold the way I pictured. I lost people. I lost energy. At times, I lost the will to show up as the woman God created me to be.

But I didn’t lose God.

He met me right here—in my mess, my mid-breakdown, my almost-quit point. And He lifted me. Not because I deserved it, but because His grace doesn’t function like man’s approval. His grace is an extension of His love, not my performance.

The enemy has been whispering to me that I’m too behind, too flawed, too tired, too everything. But you know what? I’m calling that out. I’m confronting that lie with some real truth. Because the Word says:

“The righteous may fall seven times, but still get up.” – Proverbs 24:16

That’s ME. I fell. But I got back up. And I’m getting back up again. I’m not done, and I refuse to be counted out just because things didn’t go smoothly.

Let me be real. We talk a lot about fighting spiritual battles—but sometimes the real war is just getting out of bed with purpose, smiling when life feels like it’s in pieces, and choosing to believe that God’s not done with your story. That’s warfare too.

I want to speak directly to the old me and maybe someone reading this one day: Stop treating yourself like a side character in your own life. God didn’t send His Son so you could live in survival mode forever. No. He came to give you life and life more abundantly (John 10:10).

So when you feel like quitting, remind yourself: “You are worth the effort it takes to get to your expected end.” You are worth the fight it takes to stop settling for mediocre just because it’s familiar. Even now—especially now—there’s still hope for you.

Tonight, I prayed differently. Not out of desperation, but out of declaration. I didn’t come to God broken down and hopeless. I came to Him like a daughter who knows her Father loves her too much to let her drown in disappointment.

Here’s what I prayed:


Father, thank You. Thank You for not letting me give up when everything in me screamed to quit. I lift up every person who feels buried under the weight of discouragement, defeat, and silent pain. I pray for the one who can barely open their Bible right now. For the one crying themselves to sleep. For the one who’s surrounded by people but still feels alone.

Lord, Your Word says that Your grace is sufficient. I ask You to make that grace tangible tonight. Wrap them in it like a warm blanket. Let it silence the accusations. Let it bring clarity where confusion reigns. Let it soften the heart that’s gone numb from pain.

Heal their wounded places. Speak peace to their inner storms. Remind them they were never meant to carry it all alone.

Let them see that even in this—You are working all things for their good (Romans 8:28). Help them rise, not in their own strength, but in Yours.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

(PLEASE PRAY WITH ME BY CLICKING HERE)

I guess what I’m learning is this: Rising again doesn’t mean the fall didn’t hurt. It means you’re stronger than what tried to break you. And God? He’s still writing your story. You’re not disqualified just because it didn’t happen the way you expected.

Let’s not be the kind of Christians who only testify once we’ve “made it.” Let’s be the ones who share even while we’re still climbing. Because someone needs to know that faith isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s whispered through tears at 2 AM when you choose not to give up.

That’s where I am.
Not perfect.
But still standing.
Still believing.
Still rising—with the grace that lifts.

And I believe that’s enough.

A Prayer for Every Need: The Our Father Is The Perfect Prayer

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on how we approach prayer, and honestly, it’s been a bit of a struggle. I know, I know, that’s not the kind of thing you’d expect me to admit, but here we are. I guess I’m wondering—does anyone else feel like they pray the hardest when things are falling apart? Maybe it’s not even something major, but those times when you’re tossing and turning in bed, too tired to sleep, too restless to relax. Or the times when everything seems fine on the surface, but deep down, you’re carrying a weight you can’t quite shake. Is that when your most fervent prayer comes too? When you don’t know what to say but know you need God more than anything?

I’m guilty of not always knowing how to pray. Even after all this time, I still feel like I’m fumbling for the right words sometimes. I’ve got good intentions—good heart—but my mind just goes blank. I can sit there and talk to God like He’s right there beside me, and still, I get caught up in the silence, wondering if I’ve said the right things, or if I’ve said enough.

Maybe that’s something you’ve struggled with too. Maybe you’ve set aside time to pray, but then, when the time comes, you find yourself with nothing to say. Your mind wanders, and the words seem to escape you. I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this. Heck, even Jesus’ disciples struggled with this! They came to Him asking, “Lord, teach us how to pray.” (Luke 11:1). If they needed help, who am I to think I’ve got it all figured out?

That’s when I turn to what Jesus taught in Matthew 6. I think it’s such a beautiful, straightforward reminder of what prayer really is. Jesus didn’t just leave us to figure it out on our own. He gave us a model, a guide. And it’s one of the simplest yet most powerful prayers ever spoken.

Matthew 6:9-13 tells us:

“Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we also forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.”

I don’t know about you, but I find so much comfort in those words. They’re the words of Jesus—God’s own Son—given to us as a blueprint for how to connect with the Father. And what gets me is that even though we’ve heard it a thousand times in church or at family dinners, the more I sit with it, the more I realize how perfect this prayer truly is.

I’ve come to see that this prayer, the Our Father, is a model for my prayer. It’s not just something we recite in groups or before meals. It’s personal. It’s a conversation with God. Every single line is full of meaning, and it shows us how to align our hearts with His will.

Let’s break it down:

  1. Our Father in heaven – He is our Father. Not just a Father, but our personal Father. There’s intimacy here. He is close. He cares. He hears us. And He’s in heaven, ruling and reigning, but still fully present with us.
  2. Hallowed be your name – His name is holy. This is a moment of reverence, where we acknowledge the power, majesty, and sanctity of who God is. It’s a recognition that He is far beyond us, and yet, He chooses to be with us.
  3. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven – This is where I have to check my heart. How often do I pray for His will to be done over my own? If I’m being honest, sometimes I’d rather have my own plans fulfilled. But Jesus reminds me that His Kingdom, His way of doing things, is what truly matters. It’s about surrendering control. It’s about saying, “God, I want what You want.” It’s a prayer for the world to be made right, and for me to live in line with that.
  4. Give us today our daily bread – Simple, isn’t it? It’s not asking for an abundance, just for what we need today. This is a reminder to trust God every single day, to rely on Him for provision. It’s humbling. It’s saying, “God, I need You today, and tomorrow, and the next day.”
  5. And forgive us our trespasses, as we also forgive those who trespass against us – This one stings, doesn’t it? It’s so much easier to ask God to forgive us than it is to forgive others. But that’s the thing. The forgiveness we receive is the same forgiveness we are called to extend. It’s a sobering reminder that grace isn’t just for me, it’s for everyone.
  6. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one – This is where I have to pray with real honesty. I know I can’t make it through life on my own. I need God’s help to avoid sin, to stay on the path of righteousness. It’s a plea for His protection. A plea for strength when we face the trials and temptations of this world.

There it is. The perfect prayer. Simple yet profound. Jesus knew exactly what we needed to pray. Not a bunch of empty words or mindless repetition, but a prayer that brings us back to the heart of God. A prayer that grounds us in His presence. It covers everything: worship, submission, provision, forgiveness, and deliverance.

If you’re like me and often feel like you’re stammering in your prayers, let the Our Father guide you. It’s not just something you recite by memory. It’s a framework for how we live in relationship with God. Sometimes, when I have nothing left to say, I just repeat these words, and in that, I find peace.

God knows exactly what we need, even before we ask (Matthew 6:8). And yet, He still invites us to pray. That’s grace. So when you don’t know what to say, pray the Our Father. Let it be your breath when your spirit is dry.

God, You are good. Your will is perfect. Help me to trust You more, to forgive more, and to follow You with all my heart. In Jesus’ name, amen.

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Anxious Thoughts, Anchored in Christian Faith

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, Friday, I had one of those conversations that lingers long after the words have left the air. You know the kind — where someone says something so casually, but it hits a deep nerve because you know there’s truth behind it, even if it’s not the truth that should lead.

My friend looked at me and said, “Sometimes you just can’t help it. Worry is just… part of life.”

And I get it. I do. I’ve been there. I am there.

Bills. Future. Relationships. Health. The “what ifs” that creep in when you’re brushing your teeth or folding laundry. It feels almost irresponsible not to worry sometimes, doesn’t it? Like worry is our way of preparing or protecting ourselves. Like if we don’t think through every possible bad scenario, we’re being naive.

But here’s the problem. That mindset doesn’t align with what God says. At all.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything: tell God your needs and don’t forget to thank Him for His answers.” — Philippians 4:6 (TLB)

That’s literally a command. Don’t worry. Not about some things. Not about most things. About anything.

I wanted to tell my friend right then and there — with love but also firmness — “Sis, that’s a lie straight from the pit. Worry might feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. And it sure doesn’t mean it’s godly.”

Because here’s the thing: God doesn’t give us a standard without a solution. He’s not cold or distant. He doesn’t just throw “Don’t worry” at us and leave us alone with our anxious minds. He gives us a whole formula.

Let me break it down again for myself — because girl, I need this tattooed on my heart:

Step 1: Pray about everything.
If it matters to me, it matters to Him. Whether it’s the results of a biopsy or just the fact that I’m scared I’ll be single forever… He cares. So I have to open my mouth and speak. Not stress in silence. PRAY.

Step 2: Tell God your needs.
Don’t just beg. Be honest. Be specific. It’s okay to say, “Lord, I need clarity. I need strength. I need provision. I need peace.” This is not a burden to Him. This is relationship.

Step 3: Thank Him for His answers.
This one is the hardest when anxiety clouds my view. But God calls me to thank Him before I see the result. To say “Thank You” while the bank account is still low, while the test results are still pending, while the future is still blurry. That’s faith. That’s surrender.

And THEN… comes the promise. And this part blows my mind every time I read it.

“If you do this you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:7 (TLB)

God’s peace isn’t logical. It’s not based on the situation improving. It’s based on HIM.

I’ve tasted that peace before — in moments when everything around me screamed panic, and yet inside, I was still. Not because I had it all figured out, but because I knew He did.

Tonight, I’m choosing that peace again.

I’m laying my anxious thoughts before God. The ones about where I’ll be next year. The ones about whether my life is measuring up to some invisible Christian-woman standard. The ones about how people perceive me — if they think I’m “too much,” too serious, too spiritual, too opinionated. I give it all to the One who made me and already knows how my story ends.

Father God,
You said not to worry. And I confess that I do. I’ve let anxiety become my default setting, and I’ve excused it as just being “realistic.” But You’ve called me to something higher — to trust, to pray, to thank You even when the answer hasn’t arrived yet.

So I bring it all to You. Every fear. Every need. Every unknown. You are my anchor, and You are steady. I believe that as I trust You, You are already working behind the scenes.

Teach me to trust more and fear less. Let Your peace, the peace that confuses the world, flood my mind and heart tonight. Quiet every racing thought. Speak louder than my fears.

In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.

It still amazes me,how countercultural this gospel is. The world says, “Worry is normal. Anxiety is part of life.” But God says, “Not for My child.”

And while I still feel things deeply — I’m a feeler through and through — I no longer let my emotions rule me. I choose faith. I choose obedience. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

I’m not passive about this anymore. I’m not soft about worry. I fight it. I confront it. Not just for me, but for every sister watching me walk this journey.

Because if God says peace is possible, I’m going to live like it’s true.

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