Tag: Christian devotional

Footprints of Faith: Following Jesus Every Day

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Lord,

Today I feel like I’m standing still in the middle of a world sprinting in every direction. The noise, the expectations, the pull of my own thoughts—it’s exhausting. But You whispered something to my heart today. Something that anchored me:

“This journey of life was never meant to be traveled alone.”

You didn’t just save me to send me off. You saved me to walk with me.

Sometimes I forget that, Jesus. I know it in my head, but I don’t always live like I know it in my heart. Life gets loud, people get messy, and the days run together like spilled paint. But Your Word reminds me:

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way.” – Psalm 37:23

You delight in my way. You don’t just tolerate my existence or sigh every time I mess up. You actually delight in walking beside me. That floors me.

Why do I so easily forget that You’re right here?

I was reading this morning in Isaiah, and this verse stood out like a flare:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.” – Isaiah 43:2

You never promised I’d avoid the waters—you just promised I wouldn’t drown. And honestly, lately, it’s felt like I’ve been wading through an ocean of unknowns. But You’re still here, walking beside me, even when I can’t see through the waves.

Jesus, the more I walk with You, the more I realize how much I need to walk in awe of You. Not just in obedience. Not just in routine. But in absolute reverence. The kind of reverence that makes me put my phone down, step away from distractions, and just be with You.

I know the world doesn’t celebrate walking slowly, intentionally, or sacredly. But I do. Or at least I want to.

This walk with You—it’s not always easy. You confront me. You lovingly correct me. You expose the parts of my heart I want to hide. But You do it with such gentleness, like a surgeon with healing hands.

You never humiliate me. You heal me.

And I’m starting to see how walking with You is the only path that actually changes me. Not religion. Not rules. Not even good works. Just You. Just Jesus.

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” – Micah 6:8

I’m learning that “walking humbly” doesn’t mean shrinking back. It means staying close to You, knowing full well You’re the one holding my hand.

Jesus, can I be honest?

Sometimes I still want control. I still want to call the shots, make the decisions, and map out my future like I’m the creator of time itself. But I’m not. You are. And You’ve never once led me wrong.

It’s hard to surrender. It’s hard to let go. But I’m slowly realizing that walking with You means letting You lead—even when it doesn’t make sense.

You taught me this during my last job when everything crumbled. I was sure that position was my “calling.” But now, looking back, I see it was just a classroom. You were teaching me how to trust You when my identity isn’t propped up by titles.

Thank You for stripping that from me.

Yeah, I said it. I’m thankful for the stripping. Because it forced me to walk more closely with You.

This journey with You is less about where I go and more about who I become. And every step with You is shaping my character—refining me, stretching me, and anchoring me in something real.

So today, I’m asking You for more.

Not more stuff. Not more followers. Not more clarity.

But more of You.

Give me a deeper hunger for Your Word. Let it be the first place I run, not the last.

Give me a holy craving for Your presence—stronger than my desire for approval, comfort, or success.

And give me the boldness to confront the lies in myself and in others. Not to be self-righteous, but to be righteous. There’s a difference.

People need truth, Jesus. Real truth. Not watered-down, “cute” Christianity that doesn’t offend anyone. You didn’t die a brutal death just to make us comfortable.

You died to make us new.

So if I’m really walking with You, my life better start reflecting that.

God, help me not to just talk about You, but to actually walk with You.

Help me be the kind of woman who prays more than she posts.

The kind of woman who forgives quickly and loves fiercely.

The kind of woman who isn’t afraid to confront sin—in love—and call people into truth, not out of shame, but out of deep compassion.

And if anyone reading this (even if it’s just me re-reading it later) doesn’t know You yet, then let me just say this:

You can start walking with Jesus today.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t need to clean yourself up first. You don’t need to have some spiritual resume or emotional perfection.

Just pray. Be real. Be honest. Jesus is listening.

Here’s the prayer that changed everything for me:

“Jesus, I believe You are who You say You are. I believe You are the Son of God, that You died for my sins and rose again. I surrender my life to You. I don’t want to walk alone anymore. I give You my past, my present, and my future. Come into my life and lead me every step of the way. Amen.”

That’s it. That’s the first step. And once you take it, He will walk with you.

He won’t promise the path will always be easy, but He will promise that you’ll never walk it alone.

So here I am, Jesus. Again. Choosing to walk with You—step by step, even when I can’t see the full path.

Thank You for never leaving my side. Thank You for being patient when I wander, and strong when I’m weak.

And thank You for growing me. Even when it hurts.

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

Today, I draw near.
Today, I walk with You.
Today, I choose the narrow road—because You’re on it.

And I’ll keep walking with You until I finally see You face to face.

Trusting in God’s Delay: A Journey of Waiting

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve said it out loud a few times already this week, and today especially, by whispering it in my head more times than I can count, but waiting on God can be hard.

It’s not just hard — it’s exhausting, confusing, and sometimes even painful. I think today it hit me more than usual because I’ve been trying to keep it all together, to not let the heaviness of waiting seep into everything else I’m doing. But it’s there. Quiet, lingering, heavy.

I read Galatians 5:5 again this morning, and something about it gripped my heart in a fresh way:
“For through the Spirit we eagerly await by faith the righteousness for which we hope.”

Through the Spirit. By faith. That’s it. That’s the key that I keep forgetting in all of this.

It’s not up to me to muster up the strength to wait with grace. It’s not about how “strong” I am or how long I can grit my teeth through stubborn family issues or unanswered prayers. The Holy Spirit enables me to wait. HE gives me the power to endure, to trust, and to stay grounded when everything in me just wants to fix things or run away from the tension.

Waiting is hard. But it’s also holy.

Today I thought a lot about my family — the situations that have been going on for years. The ones that never seem to budge. The same arguments. The same silence. The same hurt passed back and forth like it’s inherited. These are the places in my life where waiting feels the most unbearable. Not because I don’t believe God can move — I do — but because the wait has been so long, and I can’t see how it ends.

And yet…
Romans 8:25 says, “But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”

I’m trying, Lord. Truly. I want to wait patiently. But sometimes I feel like I’m barely hanging on.

It’s strange how waiting has become its own form of spiritual training. Like God has invited me to sit in this invisible classroom where the Holy Spirit is the quiet Teacher, whispering truth to me when I want to scream, “Is it time yet?”

I keep being reminded that waiting isn’t wasted. Waiting is an invitation to stillness — to lean into His presence rather than constantly asking for His provision. It’s like He’s saying, “Be still, daughter. I’m working, even when you can’t see it.”

Stillness.
That word has taken on new meaning lately.

Stillness isn’t passive. It’s not “doing nothing.” It’s active surrender. It’s choosing not to run ahead of God, not to manipulate outcomes, not to pick up what I’ve already laid down at the altar a hundred times.

I want to be a woman who waits well — not because I have the strength on my own, but because the Spirit of God in me is doing the deep, refining work of shaping my character in the waiting. That’s where the transformation happens. Not after the miracle, but before, in the soil of patience, trust, and surrender.

Lord,
I don’t want to waste this wait.
Help me not just to survive it, but to let it sanctify me.
Help me to see You in the silence.
Help me to remember that Your timeline is good, even when mine is screaming, “Now!”

Psalm 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
I feel the Lord reminding me that “taking heart” is not ignoring how I feel — it’s choosing to trust Him through those feelings.

So tonight, here’s my honest prayer:

A Prayer While I Wait

Holy Spirit,
Thank You for dwelling within me — for being my Helper when I feel helpless. You see my heart, my struggles, my questions, and my tears. You know how deeply I long for restoration in my family, for peace that doesn’t feel forced, for healing that lasts. I lay all that before You again tonight. Not with clenched fists, but open hands. Because I’m learning that surrender doesn’t mean giving up — it means giving to You.

Jesus, be my strength in the wait. Teach me to lean on You, to grow in grace, and to draw near to You when everything around me feels stuck or silent. I don’t want to wait in bitterness. I want to wait in faith. Let this waiting not just shape my circumstances, but shape me into the woman You’ve called me to be — humble, patient, and full of Your Spirit.

Amen.

There’s something so comforting about the fact that Jesus waited too. He waited 30 years before He began His public ministry. He waited for God’s perfect timing. He didn’t rush ahead or try to impress people into believing who He was. He trusted.

And the more I reflect on that, the more I realize that waiting is deeply tied to trust.

If I say I trust God, then I also have to trust His timing — even when it feels unbearable. Even when it looks like nothing is changing. Even when people I love are stuck in cycles of dysfunction that I can’t rescue them from.

And the wild thing is… while I wait, He’s working.
Always.
Even in the silence.

Isaiah 64:4 says, “Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.”

That’s who He is. He acts on behalf of His children. He doesn’t forget us in the waiting room. He sits with us there.

Tonight, as I stare out my window and look up at the night sky, I’m reminded that the stars don’t scream for attention. They just shine. Quietly. Faithfully. Like they know the One who placed them is still watching over them.

Maybe that’s what waiting looks like too — shining quietly in the dark, holding onto faith, trusting that morning will come.

So, if this season is long — and it has been — I want to believe that it’s also full. Full of His grace. Full of His Spirit. Full of His nearness, even if I can’t always feel it.

I’m going to keep waiting. Not with frustration (though I may have days where I wrestle), but with hope.

Because through the Spirit, I eagerly await by faith the righteousness for which I hope.
Not by my strength.
Not by my emotions.
But by Him.

And that… that is enough.

Still waiting,
Still trusting,
Still His!