Tag: Christ follower

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.


Wrestling with Doubt as a Christian

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

(Click here to pray with me!)

The weight of the world feels almost unbearable some days. Everything seems flipped. Right is called wrong. Wrong is celebrated. Sin is dressed up in sequins and paraded in the streets, while righteousness is mocked and silenced. I used to think we’d have more time before it got this loud—this twisted—but here we are. And I know You’re not surprised.

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness…” — Isaiah 5:20.


Your Word warned us, Lord. And now we are living in the middle of that woe.

Sometimes I just want to scream. Not because I hate people—I don’t. I ache for them. For the blind leading the blind. For the influencers raising a generation on relativism and emotion, not truth. For the silence of the church where there should be a shout. For my own weariness in holding the line.

I feel the tension in my soul every single day. To go along or to speak up. To be silent or to be that “annoying Christian girl” who just has to bring Jesus into everything. But how can I not? He is everything to me. He pulled me from darkness. He healed parts of me no one saw. He made me new. If I deny Him, I deny myself.

But today was hard.

I watched another celebrity mock believers. “Y’all still believe in that sky fairy?” she laughed. Thousands of likes. Thousands of cheers. I cried. Not because I’m weak, but because I know what it’s like to live without hope—and I know what it’s like to meet Jesus. And I want that for them, even if they spit in my face. Even if they call me brainwashed. Because Christ said they’d do all of that.

“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first.” — John 15:18

Jesus, You knew this would happen. You promised this walk wouldn’t be easy, but You also promised You’d walk with me. I guess that’s what I’m clinging to right now: that I’m not alone, even when it feels like I’m walking upstream in a river of compromise.

It’s hard to hold on when it feels like faith itself is on trial.

Every time I open social media, the battle is louder. The culture says be “politically correct,” while You’ve called us to be morally correct. There’s a war raging, not just around us, but inside of us. The culture war is just a symptom of the deeper spiritual war, and I can feel it tearing at hearts. Mine included.

But Lord, I believe. Even when it’s hard. Even when I don’t feel You the way I used to. Even when my prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling.

I still believe.

I still believe You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6).
I still believe the Bible is Your living, breathing Word (Hebrews 4:12).
I still believe You died and rose again, defeating death and hell (Revelation 1:18).
I still believe the cross is not foolishness, but the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18).
I still believe You are coming back, and soon.

So help me, Jesus.

Help me keep my eyes on You, not the headlines.
Help me keep my ears tuned to Your voice, not the noise of the crowd.
Help me to stand, even if I’m the last one standing.
Help me to speak when You say “speak,” and be silent when You say “wait.”
Help me to love, even when I’m hated.
And help me to never confuse compassion with compromise.

The world follows Carl Sagan’s voice—”The cosmos is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be.” But I hear Your whisper through the ages: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” — Genesis 1:1.

Sagan saw a godless void. Calvin saw a stage for Your glory. I choose to see what Calvin saw—what You showed us. Creation is Your theater, and we’re living in the final act. I’ve read the end of the script. I know who wins. You do. So I will not be afraid.

But Lord, give me wisdom. There’s so much deception. And it’s subtle. The devil isn’t dumb. He disguises lies as “love.” He paints sin with glitter and slogans like “your truth” and “just be you.” But Your truth is the only truth that saves. And it breaks my heart that so many will miss it because it doesn’t feel good or sound trendy.

Jesus, revive Your Church. Shake us. Wake us up. We were not called to blend in. We were never meant to be lukewarm or “cool.” We are salt and light—meant to sting and shine. Forgive us for choosing comfort over conviction.

I want to be bold, God. But not rude. I want to be loving, but not compromising. I want to reflect You, even when people reject me. Because this world is not my home. I’m not living for likes. I’m living for “Well done.”

So tonight, I lay my weariness before You. I pour out the ache, the confusion, the heartbreak, the loneliness. I give it all to You. And I pick up peace. I pick up faith. I pick up the cross.

Because You’re worth it.

Every tear.
Every rejection.
Every label.
Every loss.

Jesus, You’re worth it.

Click here to pray with me!