Tag: christ

The Complete Blessing: From Spirit to Flesh

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Lord, it’s just me — raw, real, and reaching. I feel so much stirring in my spirit that I can’t just sit with it anymore. I have to write it out, wrestle with it, pray through it, speak life over myself. You’ve been pressing 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24 into my heart so deeply, it’s like it’s tattooed on my bones:

“May God Himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.”

I read that and my heart screams, YES, LORD. DO IT! But also, God, how? How do You make me whole — spirit, soul, and body — when life feels like it’s constantly pulling me apart?

I don’t want to be a half-built house anymore, Holy Spirit. I want to be made blameless. Not just in my outward appearance or religious rituals, but truly, deeply, wholly sanctified. This isn’t about perfectionism — this is about purification.

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Let’s start with my spirit. That part of me that cries out for You when words fail, that part of me You breathed into life, the part of me that knows Your voice even when my emotions lie. You said in Ephesians 3:16 that we are “strengthened with power through His Spirit in your inner being.” Jesus, I need that strength right now. I’m not here to perform or pretend. I’m here because my spirit wants more of You. It aches when I grieve You. It gets buried when I let my flesh take the lead. But it is yours, fully and eternally. Breathe new fire in me. Fill me with the hunger that moves mountains.

And Lord, if there are parts of my spirit that are crushed — and honestly, there are — please, please come close like You promised in Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I need You near. No one else will do. Heal those broken inner places, not so I can feel good, but so I can be whole and walk worthy of Your call.

My soul? She’s a mess sometimes. She’s emotional, sensitive, reactive — but she’s also vibrant, creative, and expressive. She carries the songs I sing, the tears I cry, the joy I radiate. But she gets overwhelmed. She tries to control things that belong in Your hands. She feels everything deeply, and sometimes the pain of the world pierces her too deeply.

Lord, You said You restore our soul (Psalm 23:3). I’m holding You to that promise. Renew her. Teach her to surrender. Show her that she doesn’t have to lead; she just has to follow the spirit that follows Your Spirit. Help her get in divine alignment. I bless my soul to come under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. No more hijacking peace. No more feeding fear. Soul, be still and know that He is God.

And my body? This temple that gets overlooked unless it’s in pain or gaining weight or feeling tired? I’ve spoken so harshly to her, Lord. I’ve treated her like a workhorse instead of the sacred vessel she is. Forgive me. I bless my body to come alive in Your glory. I speak healing over her, strength into her bones, and freedom into her movements.

My body lifts hands in worship. She dances, cries, embraces, kneels. She doesn’t just carry me — she carries Your Spirit, Your purpose, Your presence. I bless her to be whole, strong, and healthy. I speak to every cell, every system, every hidden trauma — be sanctified, be healed, be whole in Jesus’ name.

This isn’t about self-help or some aesthetic “healing journey.” This is about sanctification — deep, holy, through-and-through alignment with the God of peace. It’s about being kept blameless — not because I’m flawless, but because You’re faithful. You’re the One who does the work, Lord. You will do it.

You didn’t call me to salvation only to abandon me in sanctification. You didn’t save my spirit to leave my soul and body in chaos. You’re after every part of me, and I say yes. Yes, Jesus. Sanctify me. Spirit, soul, and body. I’m not hiding any part from You.

Where I’ve let trauma speak louder than truth — silence it.
Where I’ve let exhaustion speak louder than purpose — revive me.
Where I’ve let bitterness poison my soul — cleanse me.

Take the whole of me, Lord. Make it holy. Make it whole.

And God, help me to be bold with others about this. I’m tired of surface-level Christianity. I’m not interested in cute faith or lukewarm prayers. I want to see chains break, strongholds fall, spirits awaken. I want to look people in the eye and say, “He can heal you — all of you. Spirit, soul, and body.” I want to speak with holy fire and radical compassion, not just comfort but confrontation. Not because I’m better — but because I know the One who makes us whole. I know He can do it. Because He’s doing it in me.

Even on the days I feel like I’m falling apart, You’re putting me together. So tonight, I rest in the truth that You are faithful. You are working. You will complete what You started. And when You come back, I’ll be found blameless — not because of me, but because of You.

Amen.


When Faith Feels Fragile

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I promise to be honest in everything I write. Sometimes, when I open my eyes to this world, my faith feels fragile—like it’s walking on a tightrope stretched thin over a canyon of confusion and chaos. The moral compass everyone once seemed to respect is spinning wildly, and I’m left clinging to the only anchor that’s ever truly steady: God. It’s like the whole culture has flipped upside down. Right is suddenly wrong, and wrong parades itself as right. How do you stay steady when the ground beneath you keeps shifting like sand?

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I’m reminded of 2 Timothy 3:12-13, which says, “Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted, while evil people and impostors will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived.” That’s exactly where we are—deception reigning, and confusion swallowing truth. The world screams, “Be politically correct!” while the Bible quietly but firmly demands, “Be morally correct.” The culture war we’re seeing? It’s not just politics on steroids—it’s a reflection of a deeper, spiritual battle raging inside hearts and souls.

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There’s a line I keep thinking about from Carl Sagan, an atheist who had a huge influence back in the ’80s. His show was iconic, and his motto was chilling: “The cosmos is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be.” No God. No Creator. Just random chance and time stretched infinitely. I feel this is the root of the moral decay—if the cosmos is just a cosmic accident, why should anyone care about absolute right or wrong? But John Calvin offers a completely opposite, beautiful truth: “The cosmos is God’s theater to show His glory.” Our world isn’t a meaningless accident; it’s a stage where God reveals Himself. That changes everything.

The God who made the stars also gave us His Word, a map for how to live—morally, spiritually, and eternally. It’s hard to stand firm when so many voices shout lies, but the Bible is clear: the message of the cross sounds foolish to those lost in sin (1 Corinthians 1:18), but to us who believe, it’s the very power of God saving and transforming us.

I won’t lie—some days I want to scream at the injustice, the godlessness, the blatant rebellion against God’s truth. But I also have to be careful. The battle is not against flesh and blood but against spiritual forces (Ephesians 6:12). The culture war we see out there is really the outward reflection of the war within every believer’s heart. Sometimes I feel it in my own soul—questions, doubts, the temptation to just blend in, to avoid confrontation, to stay silent. But silence is not an option. I feel God nudging me to be bold.

Prayer has become my lifeline. I cling to Psalm 25:4-5, “Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior.” I pray every morning for strength to keep my eyes fixed on Jesus and not on the chaos swirling around me. Because if I look at the world, I’ll be overwhelmed. But if I fix my gaze on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith, I find peace (Hebrews 12:2).

I pray for courage to speak truth in love, even when it’s unpopular. The world is desperate for that kind of courage. People are hungry for light, even if they don’t realize it. It’s easy to feel small, powerless, and defeated, but God reminds me in Isaiah 40:31, “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” That’s a promise I hold onto tightly.

I also pray for those who don’t believe, who mock, who call the cross foolish. Lord, open their eyes to Your truth. Help them see that without You, life is empty, purposeless, and fleeting. And I ask God to keep me humble, compassionate, and steadfast—never confrontational for the sake of being harsh, but always confrontational for the sake of truth and love.

It’s tempting sometimes to get discouraged. The world’s values seem upside down, and people mock those who stand for biblical truths. But I’ve read the last chapters of this story—Revelation 21:4 promises, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.” The God who began the story has the final word. Evil won’t win. Darkness won’t prevail.

That truth doesn’t mean we sit back and do nothing. No, it means we fight—with prayer, with love, with boldness, and with faith. It means being a light in the darkness, no matter how small that light seems. Because one small light can pierce the deepest night.

So, today, even though my faith feels fragile, I choose to stand. I choose to believe God more than the lies of this world. I choose to be morally correct, even when the world screams otherwise. I choose to fight the good fight of faith (1 Timothy 6:12), knowing the victory is already won.

Lord, help me never forget that You are the unshakable Rock beneath my feet. Keep my eyes on You, not on the shifting opinions of the world. Give me boldness to speak truth with love and compassion. Strengthen my heart when it feels weak. Remind me daily that Your glory is the ultimate purpose of this life and this world.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Your Life Has Purpose — God Doesn’t Make Mistakes

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Jesus,

Today hasn’t been tragic, nor exciting, just… painfully ordinary. Dishes in dishwasher. Texts left on read. My reflection staring back in the mirror like, “Is this it?” But then I stumbled upon 1 Peter 1:3-4:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade.”

And that phrase—“a living hope”—hit me like a wave.

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It’s not a future dream or some vague, ethereal promise. It’s here. Right now. A living, breathing, pulsing hope in the middle of my very blah life. I’ve read that verse before, but today, it confronted my forgetfulness like a friend yanking back the blinds and letting the light pour in.

This hope isn’t based on vibes, feelings, or circumstances. It’s rooted in the resurrection—the single most powerful event in human history. Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb, and neither does my purpose.

Still, I let my thoughts run wild far too often. When I scroll social media and see everyone else “living their best lives,” I start to question mine. My mind spirals:

“What am I even doing?”
“Why hasn’t this happened for me yet?”
“God, did You forget me?”

But those thoughts? They’re not grounded in truth. They are not rooted in hope. They’re whispers from the enemy trying to blur my focus and blind me from the inheritance already mine through Christ.

God has not forgotten me. And He is certainly not wasting my life.

John 10:10 says:

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

Abundantly. Not passively. Not fearfully. Not merely surviving.
Jesus didn’t die so I could exist in emotional limbo. He came to bring me life to the full, even when my circumstances feel like less.

That’s why I have to fight for this truth. I’m done with passive Christianity. I love people deeply, but I won’t shrink to keep them comfortable. I won’t tiptoe around the fact that without Jesus, there’s no hope. No purpose. No life. I’d rather be misunderstood for standing in truth than adored for blending in. Because the gospel offends before it transforms. That’s just how it works.

But my compassion is real. I want people to taste what I’ve tasted. To see what I see. To know what I know—that God does not waste anything. Not our tears. Not our waiting. Not our quiet seasons. Not our heartbreaks. He weaves all of it together to display His glory, even if we don’t understand it in the moment.

Romans 8:28 reminds 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.”

If that verse is true (and it is), then everything I walk through is filtered through His love and will be used for His good. Even this season I don’t understand.

But here’s the catch: I have to be willing to see through the lens of faith, not feelings. Hope requires confrontation—confronting my doubt, my laziness, my comparison, and replacing them with truth.

So today, I’m choosing to take my thoughts captive, like Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians 10:5. I’m rejecting the ones that lead me to despair, and I’m clinging to the ones that speak life. I’m not waiting to “feel” full of purpose—I already have it in Jesus.

Let me pray it out loud:

God,
Thank You for not wasting my life. Thank You for your mercy, for giving me new birth into a living hope through Jesus. Remind me that hope is not an emotion; it’s a reality I live in because You are alive. Help me stop entertaining thoughts that are not from You—thoughts of failure, comparison, and fear.

Teach me to recognize Your hand in the quiet seasons, to lean in when the world tells me to run. I surrender my timing, my dreams, and even my disappointments to You, because I know You never waste anything. Even when I can’t see it, You’re moving.

Strengthen me to walk confidently in the purpose You’ve placed on my life. Let my heart remember daily that I have an eternal inheritance that will never spoil, fade, or disappoint.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

So, today, I refuse to believe that my life is on hold. I’m not stuck. I’m not forgotten. I’m exactly where God wants me—and that means He’s working.
I’m going to live like it.

Mornings with God: My Favorite Morning Prayers to Uplift Your Spirit

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Prayer isn’t about fancy words or having it all together—it’s just about being with God. And the more I do it, the more realize how much I need it.

Why Is Prayer So Important?

Honestly, prayer changes everything. It’s not just a routine or something we check off our to-do list—it’s how we connect with God, reset our focus, and get spiritually ready for whatever the day throws at us. Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Praise Shifts Our Perspective
When I take time to thank God and just sit in awe of who He is, it shifts my mindset. Gratitude reminds me that He’s been faithful before, and He’ll be faithful again. Starting the day with praise puts my heart in a place of peace and joy—and that makes such a difference.

2. It Prepares Us for the Hard Stuff
Life isn’t always easy. We all face things that can shake us. But when I pray and ask God to help me before those tough moments even happen, I feel more grounded. It’s like putting on spiritual armor. Instead of reacting out of fear or stress, I can respond knowing He’s right there with me.

3. Prayer Helps Us Stand Strong Against Temptation
We all have struggles and weak spots. I’ve learned that being real with God about those areas—and asking Him for strength—makes such a difference. He doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but He does want to help us grow and choose better.

4. It Gives Us Boldness and Confidence
God opens doors all the time—little moments to love others, encourage someone, or step into something new. When I pray for confidence and clarity, I’m more likely to say yes to those opportunities instead of letting fear win. With Him, I know I’m not doing it alone.

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Caught in the Clutches of Moral Filth

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It’s 1:37 AM and I’m wide awake, not because of caffeine or anxiety, but because I can feel Your Spirit wrestling with mine. You’re convicting me. You’re calling me to rise—not just as a believer, but as a woman who dares to confront the rot that is becoming “normal” in our culture.

I looked around today and felt sick. Not because the world is broken (I already know that)—but because Your people are getting comfortable in the filth. We’re not just “in the world”; we’re soaking in it. Marinating in it. Entertained by it. Desensitized by it. And then we have the audacity to say, “God feels distant.”

Isn’t it true?

When we find ourselves caught in the clutches of moral filth, when our hearts are numb from bingeing what You hate, when we start excusing sin because it’s trending—we find Your Word boring. Irrelevant. Too slow. Too old-fashioned. Too convicting.

But Your Word says something different:

“Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.” — James 1:21

Moral filth is prevalent. It’s everywhere. And Satan is crafty. He doesn’t just tempt us to sin blatantly—he numbs us so we no longer feel the conviction. He hardens us with a thousand small compromises. “It’s just a show.” “It’s just a joke.” “It’s not that deep.”

But it is that deep.

Because every time I scroll past something that grieves You and don’t feel grieved, that’s a sign my heart is crusting over. Every time I defend what You’ve called sin, that’s not progress—that’s decay.

Lord, You said:

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

Are we not living in those days right now?

I have friends—beautiful, creative, kind people—who claim Your name but walk in compromise. And I’m not talking about struggling. We all fall short. I do too. But there’s a difference between struggling and surrendering to the world. Between conviction and convenience. Between repentance and rebellion.

And I’ve kept quiet for too long. I’ve let things slide because I didn’t want to be “that girl”—the one who’s always talking about sin and repentance and righteousness. The one who’s “too intense.” The one who makes everyone uncomfortable. But Jesus, You didn’t die to make me comfortable. You died to make me holy.

Forgive me for letting silence win where truth should’ve been spoken.

I feel You pressing this into my spirit:

“If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left.” — Hebrews 10:26

That verse chills me. It’s not about messing up—it’s about hardening. About knowing truth and choosing the filth instead. It’s about hearts that stop listening. Minds that stop repenting. Eyes that stop seeing.

But here’s the miracle: even then, Your Spirit doesn’t give up on us.

Even when our hearts are hardened by sin, You move. You pursue. You whisper and shout. You send people and Scriptures and moments that cut deep—not to harm us, but to heal us. Like a surgeon, You take the scalpel of Your Word and do heart surgery.

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword… it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” — Hebrews 4:12

I’ve felt that cut. That painful, holy cut that exposes everything fake in me. You don’t just deal with symptoms—you go to the root. To the ugly. To the unspoken compromise. And somehow, instead of shaming me, You invite me to change. Real change. Deeper than behavior. Deeper than guilt. A transformation from the inside out.

Holy Spirit, keep cutting. Keep doing surgery on this heart of mine. I don’t want surface-level Christianity. I want to bleed truth and breathe holiness. I want to look at the filth of this world and not desire it. I want to hunger for Your Word like my soul is starving—because without it, I am.

Tonight, I pray not just for myself but for my generation. For those who claim You but are drowning in the noise of this world. For those who feel nothing when they sin. For those who are more shaped by TikTok than Scripture. Call us out, God. Ruin us for comfort. Wreck us for normal.

Give us hearts that hate what You hate and love what You love. Not just because we’re “supposed to,” but because we’ve seen the beauty of holiness and the horror of sin. And we choose You. Again and again and again.

Father, protect us from shallow faith. From casual compromise. From moral numbness disguised as grace. Let Your Word come alive in us—not just as a book, but as a burning fire that cannot be quenched.

Tonight I recommit my eyes, my mind, my hands, my words, and my witness to You. I will not flirt with filth. I will not laugh at what grieves You. I will not be silent while my friends slide toward spiritual death. I will speak—even if it costs me comfort, likes, or relationships.

Because You are worth everything.

Search me, O God. Expose the hidden filth in me. Cleanse me. Break me. Build me back with truth.

In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.

When God Calls, Say “Yes”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Proverbs 3:5-6 says:

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

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

Prayer:

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

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

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

And that’s been the missing link for me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke 9:23 hits different tonight:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeremiah 29:11 says:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, You said in Jeremiah 29:13,

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

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

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

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

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

How can I ever thank You for that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want us to abide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So here’s my prayer — raw and unfiltered:

Lord,


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

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

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

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

I feel the weight of eternity pressing into this moment.

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

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

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

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

Apart from You, I can do nothing.

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

Final Prayer of Gratitude

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

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

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

How well do I know Jesus?

Not well enough.
But I will.

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

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

“I know you.”

Amen.

10 Powerful Short Prayers to Carry You Through a Difficult Weekend

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This weekend has been heavy, and it’s only Saturday.

Not in the dramatic, everything-is-falling-apart kind of way—but more in that quiet, aching, invisible weight sort of way. It’s the kind of weekend where time moves slowly, people seem distant, and my thoughts are louder than usual. I’ve been stuck in my head all day, trying to shake this feeling of overwhelm, loneliness, and honestly…spiritual dryness.

I’m trying not to let my emotions dictate my faith, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little disconnected from God right now. Not because He’s distant—He never is—but because I’ve just been tired. Tired in my body, tired in my mind, and tired in my soul.

But something I’ve learned this past year is this: when the world gets heavy, prayer becomes my oxygen. Even if the words are broken. Even if the prayers are whispered between tears or said without saying anything at all.

Last night, I wrote out 10 prayers to help me get through this weekend—and maybe even carry into next week. Writing them helped me breathe again. They reminded me that I’m never alone, no matter how quiet it feels around me. That God sees me even when I feel invisible.

So, here they are—my honest prayers. No filters. Just my heart and His presence.

1. When I feel overwhelmed

God, I can’t keep juggling everything. I feel like I’m dropping the ball in all areas of my life. Work. Friendships. Family. Even spiritually. I need You to be my calm in this chaos. Help me slow down. Help me remember that You’re not asking me to carry all of this alone. You’re my rest and my rescue. Please remind me to let go. Amen.

2. When loneliness creeps in

Jesus, this loneliness is louder than usual today. It’s like no one sees me. Everyone is busy, and I don’t want to be a burden. But You, Lord—you’re near to the brokenhearted. Sit with me tonight. Whisper Your love over me. Help me believe I’m not forgotten. Just knowing You’re here makes all the difference. Amen.

3. When I’m just exhausted

Lord, I am so, so tired. Not just sleepy—but worn thin. I’ve been running on empty for weeks, and I can feel the burnout creeping in. You said in Your Word that You’d give rest to the weary. Please give me that rest. Teach me that it’s okay to stop striving. Let me rest with You, not just from the world. Amen.

4. When anxiety tries to steal my peace

Father, I can’t shut off my thoughts. My mind keeps racing, playing out worst-case scenarios, obsessing over things I can’t control. I hate how anxiety makes me feel like I’m spiraling. Please step in. Be my anchor. Quiet the noise in my head and replace it with Your peace. You’re the Prince of Peace, and I need You right now. Amen.

5. When I feel far from God

Jesus, it feels like it’s been a while since we were close. Not because You’ve moved, but because I’ve been distracted, distant, maybe even a little ashamed. But I miss You. I miss our time together. Please draw me back in. Speak to me again. I’m ready to return. Amen.

6. When I’m tired of waiting

God, why does it feel like everything I pray for is stuck in limbo? I’m doing my best to trust You, but I’m also getting discouraged. Everyone else seems to be moving forward, and I feel stuck. Help me trust Your timing. Help me believe that delays are not denials. Strengthen my faith in the waiting. Amen.

7. When guilt weighs me down

Lord, I’ve made some choices this week that I’m not proud of. And I’ve been avoiding You because of the shame. But I know You’re not surprised. You’ve already seen it all—and You still love me. Please forgive me. Wash me clean. Remind me that I don’t have to earn Your grace—it’s already mine. Amen.

8. When I want to choose gratitude instead of bitterness

Jesus, I don’t feel super thankful right now. I’ve been focusing on everything I don’t have, and it’s made me bitter. But I don’t want to live like that. I want to be someone who sees the good, even when life is hard. So thank You—for this moment, for this breath, for Your patience with me. Help me fix my eyes on You. Amen.

9. When I need strength to keep going

Father, part of me wants to just quit—on everything. It’s hard to keep showing up when I’m tired and unseen. But I know You give strength to the weary. So please strengthen me now. Lift my head. Renew my energy. Remind me that You’re not done with my story. Amen.

10. When I need hope for tomorrow

Lord, thank You for being with me through this weekend. Even when I didn’t “feel” You, I know You were there. Help me go into this new week with hope—not fear. Let me walk in the light of Your promises. I believe the best is yet to come, not because life is perfect, but because You are. Amen.

That’s all I could get out last night.

But honestly, just writing these down helped lift a little of the weight. It reminded me that I don’t need to have it all together for God to meet me. He meets me right here—in my messy room, in my tired soul, in my doubts and in my silence.

I know this weekend didn’t turn out how I imagined. But maybe it was still sacred in its own way. Maybe sometimes the holiest moments are the ones where we have nothing to offer but our honest heart—and He shows up anyway.

Tomorrow is Sunday. I think I’ll go to church, even if I don’t “feel” like it. Sometimes obedience comes before the emotion. And maybe that’s where healing begins.

I’m going to leave my Bible open on the nightstand and let God speak while I sleep.

One day at a time. One prayer at a time.

Loving the Unlovable (Help Me God)

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord,

Some days I wonder why You allow certain people in my life — the ones who seem to make my spirit cringe, who mock what is sacred to me, or who just constantly seem… difficult. The ones I might never say it about out loud, but who I sometimes label in my heart as unlovable.

Tonight, I’m asking myself a question I’ve been avoiding:
If I refuse to love the unlovable… do I really love You?

That’s a hard thing to admit. But Your Word is direct, and You don’t allow me to sit comfortably in my “good intentions.” You ask for my whole heart — including the way I treat the people who test it the most.

Your Word in 1 John 4:20-21 pierced me again tonight:

“If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from Him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.”

God, I say I love You — and I mean it. I really do. My whole life is Yours. But if I’m being honest, there are people I’ve emotionally written off. I avoid them, criticize them in my mind, get irritated every time I see them or hear their voice. They don’t know You, and some even mock You openly — and it makes me feel awkward, angry, or even afraid.

But You didn’t give me permission to retreat from them.

You didn’t call me to love only when it’s easy.
You didn’t say, “Love your neighbor unless they disagree with you.”
You didn’t say, “Be kind only to those who understand you.”

You said:

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” – Matthew 5:44

You said:

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” – Luke 6:36

You commanded me to love — not because they deserve it, but because You loved me first, undeservedly.

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

So Lord, how can I withhold love from someone else when You never withheld it from me?

I think what scares me is how much I still let my emotions lead. When someone offends me or behaves in a way that feels “godless,” I immediately feel this wall go up. I want to protect myself. I want to distance myself. But maybe You allow these people into my life not to torment me — but to transform me.

God, shape my heart into Yours.

Let me not be quick to take offense, but quick to offer grace.
Let me not retreat into silence, but speak with patience and wisdom.
Let me not feel superior, but humbled that I even know You at all.

Because the truth is, the only difference between me and someone who irritates or mocks or rejects You… is grace. That’s it. I didn’t earn it. I didn’t achieve salvation. I was rescued. And I want others to be rescued, too — even those who right now feel impossible to love.

Soften my heart, Lord.

Help me remember that people are not projects or problems — they are souls. Souls You formed. Souls You long to save. Even the rude ones. Even the loud ones. Even the dismissive, arrogant, or sarcastic ones.

“The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise… He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” – 2 Peter 3:9

If You are patient, how can I not be?

Lord, here is my prayer tonight:

Father,
Help me to love those who test me.
Help me to see them through Your eyes.
Not as obstacles in my day, but opportunities for grace.
Let my irritation become intercession.
Let my distance become compassion.
Let my judgments be replaced with prayers.

I surrender the “right” to be offended.
I surrender the tendency to retreat.
I surrender my pride that tells me I’m better.
I just want to love like Jesus.

Let my heart be soft but strong.
Let my words be gentle but rooted in truth.
Let me reflect You, not just when it’s easy — but especially when it’s not.
Amen.

Lord, loving the unlovable might be one of the greatest tests of true discipleship. You said people would know we are Yours not by how much we know, or how well we argue, or how holy we look — but by how we love.

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” – John 13:35

I want to be Your disciple. I want my life to bear the fruit of Your Spirit, not just when I’m alone with You, but in the tension of real relationships — in the messy, uncomfortable, unpredictable places.

Because honestly, that’s where Your love shines brightest — in the places where mine falls short.

I may never feel a natural affection for some people. That’s okay. You’re not asking for fake smiles or surface-level niceness. You’re asking for sacrificial love — a choice. An obedience. A heart posture that says, “I will love them because You love me. I will love them because You love them.”

It’s humbling, but I think that’s the point. The more I die to myself in these small, daily acts of love, the more I reflect the image of Christ.

So tomorrow, Lord, help me take one step closer to that kind of love.

Help me:

  • Speak kindly when I want to be silent.
  • Stay present when I want to walk away.
  • Pray instead of grumble.
  • Offer grace instead of sarcasm.
  • Remember that loving the unlovable is not weakness — it’s warfare.

Holy Spirit, fill me. I cannot do this on my own. I will burn out quickly without Your help. But with You, I can become more than just a “nice person” — I can become a light in darkness, a living testimony of Your mercy, and a vessel of Your love.

And maybe… just maybe… my love, flawed and growing as it is, might point someone toward You.

Let that be my legacy.
Not perfection.
Not popularity.
Just love.
Love rooted in You.

Please Lord, redeem California And protect this country from Gavin Newsom

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd


I am so frustrated right now. I can hardly focus on anything else but this heavy, burning weight in my heart about what’s happening in California—and what could happen to this entire country if people don’t wake up. I just need to pour it all out here, because I can’t yell it from the rooftops the way I want to, and I’m honestly too angry to speak to people about it without it turning into a fight. So I’m going to give it to You, Lord, raw and real.

Click Here to Watch How Disgraceful Gavin Newsom Really Is

Scripture #1 – Psalm 94:16
“Who will rise up for me against the wicked? Who will take a stand for me against evildoers?”
Lord, I feel like this verse is my whole mood lately. Who is standing up against the wicked policies in California? Who’s fighting for the unborn? For the children? For families who just want to raise their kids without the government shoving perversion, confusion, and chaos into their homes? I’m begging You to raise up leaders in California who love You, who fear You, and who will stand up against Gavin Newsom and everything he represents.

Prayer #1
Father God, I pray right now for the people of California. Open their eyes. Tear the veil off their faces. Show them what’s really happening. Give them wisdom to vote out Gavin Newsom. Let truth pierce through the deception and emotional manipulation. Raise up godly voices with courage. Silence the voices of confusion and darkness. Amen.

I look at what California has become under Newsom, and it makes me sick. Literal sanctuary for abortion—even pushing for full-term and post-birth killing. Schools hiding gender transitions from parents. Drag shows for kids. Skyrocketing crime. Taxes. Fires. Homelessness. People fleeing the state because they can’t take it anymore. And what does Gavin do? Smile for the cameras and pretend it’s all part of some glorious progressive utopia. It’s delusional. It’s evil.

And what’s worse is that he thinks he deserves to be President. President of the United States?!? God, I can’t even stomach the thought.

Scripture #2 – Isaiah 5:20
“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness…”
Yes, Lord. That’s exactly what’s happening. They’re painting sin as virtue. They’re labeling righteousness as bigotry. And this man is leading the charge with his fake smile and soft voice, acting like he’s some moral hero when he’s literally spitting on Your Word and leading people astray.

Prayer #2
Jesus, I pray You would block Gavin Newsom from ever becoming President. Shut every door. Let the plans of the wicked be exposed and fall apart. Guard our nation from even entertaining the idea. Don’t let charisma or polished words deceive people. Give voters discernment. Give us courage to say “No.” We don’t need another puppet of darkness in the White House. Amen.

I know anger isn’t supposed to rule me. I’m not proud of how intense this is, but how can I not feel furious? He uses religion when it benefits him—quoting Jesus to justify killing babies. Quoting scripture to support policies that break Your commandments. It’s blasphemy. And people eat it up because it’s coated in political correctness and “tolerance.”

Scripture #3 – Proverbs 29:2
“When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked rule, the people mourn.”
That’s what California is doing—mourning. Silently, loudly, desperately. People are mourning their neighborhoods, their safety, their faith, their families, their very sanity under the weight of wicked leadership.

Prayer #3
God, raise up righteous leaders. We need bold men and women who are rooted in Your truth and not afraid to speak it. I pray for local elections, school boards, governors—let there be a holy uprising of people who are not ashamed of the Gospel. And may California, of all places, be a place where revival breaks out—not just spiritually, but politically and morally. Amen.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone else my age even cares. Most of them are either totally brainwashed or too afraid to say anything because it’s “unpopular.” But silence is complicity. And I’m not staying silent. I won’t. If that means losing friends, fine. If that means being the “crazy Christian girl” in the group chat, so be it. I care more about pleasing God than fitting in.

Scripture #4 – Galatians 1:10
“Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
That hits hard. I am a servant of Christ. I will speak truth, even when it costs me. Even if I’m mocked or labeled “intolerant.” Jesus wasn’t crucified for being politically correct. He was crucified for being right.

Prayer #4
Jesus, give me the boldness to speak the truth in love. Help me to not be ruled by anger, but to let it drive me toward action. Give me grace and clarity. Let my words reflect Your heart, even when I’m confronting darkness. And help others my age to rise up too. Light a fire in this generation. Amen.

I keep praying for California. It’s where so much influence comes from—media, tech, culture. If it stays under corrupt leadership, the rest of the nation suffers. And Gavin Newsom is a huge part of the problem. He’s not just a symptom—he’s a driver. A slick, dangerous one.

Scripture #5 – Ephesians 5:11
“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”
I will not pretend like he’s just “a different opinion.” This is about life and death, truth and lies, freedom and oppression. I will expose the lies. And I’ll keep praying that others will too.

Prayer #5
God, expose Gavin Newsom for who he truly is. Let the media spin fall flat. Let people see the spiritual truth behind his policies. Don’t let deception win. And please—PLEASE—do not let this man ever become President. Protect this country. Wake us up before it’s too late. In Jesus’ powerful name, Amen.

I know You’re in control, Lord. That gives me peace, even when I feel overwhelmed. I trust You. I do. I just needed to vent. To process. To cry out. Because I don’t want to see America fall deeper into darkness. I don’t want my future kids growing up in a nation run by leaders who mock Your design.

Please, Lord… redeem California. And protect this country from Gavin Newsom.