Tag: Christian diary entry

“I am Jesus…now get up and go… “

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

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

But like them, I have to come back down.

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

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

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

But tonight You shook me.

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

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

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

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

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

I want to obey You without delay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Scriptures I’m Holding On To Tonight:

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

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

So I will get up and go.

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

God’s Got This: Resting in His Faithfulness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I needed to write tonight (Sunday June 22nd). My heart feels heavy, not with hopelessness, but with questions, confusion, and honestly—this overwhelming need to let go and trust You. It’s just… hard sometimes. My mind knows the truth: You are good, You are faithful, You are in control. But my emotions? They don’t always catch up.

Today was one of those days that tested me. Work was chaotic, and I felt like nothing I did was enough. I tried my best—stayed online late, double-checked everything in my project case, fake-smiled through it all. But deep down, I felt anxious. Not because of the project itself, but because I’m scared. Scared that I’m failing. Scared that You’re disappointed in me. Scared that maybe I’m not where I’m “supposed” to be.

But You reminded me of something powerful today.

Right in the middle of my anxious spiral, a verse popped into my head—like You whispered it gently to my spirit:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV)

I’ve read that verse probably a hundred times. I’ve memorized it. Quoted it. But today… today it hit differently. I realized I’ve been leaning so hard on my own understanding. My own logic. My five-year plan. My checklist of how things should be going by now. And in doing that, I’ve subtly told You that I trust my own ability to figure life out more than I trust You.

That stung.

God, I’m sorry. I truly am. I know You don’t expect perfection from me, but You do want my trust. You want my surrender. And that doesn’t mean giving up—it means handing over the steering wheel and saying, “God, drive. I’ll go wherever You take me.”

So tonight, I’m choosing to say it again: God, You’ve got this. Whatever “this” looks like—my career, my relationships, my finances, my emotions, my future—I’m giving it to You. I want to be like David when he said:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”
— Psalm 56:3 (ESV)

Even David, a man after Your own heart, felt fear. But he didn’t stay there. He put his trust in You. Actively. Intentionally. That’s what I want to do too.

Here’s the truth, Lord. Trusting You isn’t always a one-time thing. For me, it’s like… a million little moments every single day. I trust You when I pray. I trust You when I let go of what I can’t control. I trust You when I stop rehearsing worst-case scenarios in my head. I trust You when I choose peace over panic.

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Honestly, it’s humbling. I’m 24, and there’s so much I thought I’d have figured out by now. But maybe that’s part of the journey. Maybe You’re allowing this space of “not knowing” to teach me how to walk by faith and not by sight.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:7 (KJV)

Lord, that verse has been my anchor lately. It’s so countercultural to walk by faith. The world screams, “Have a plan. Be in control. Know what’s next.” But You whisper, “Follow Me. Trust Me. I know the way.”

Tonight, I needed to write all this out to remind myself—and maybe even to declare to You again—that I do trust You. Even when it’s messy. Even when my heart trembles. Even when I can’t see two steps ahead.

You’ve been too faithful for me to doubt You now.

I remember when I prayed for this job. You opened the door. I remember when I prayed for peace during Mom’s surgery. You flooded me with it. I remember when I asked You to show me if that relationship wasn’t from You—and You did, even though it hurt. You’ve always been there. Always come through. Always held me when I felt like I was falling.

So if I believe that You were God then, I need to believe You’re still God now.

Here’s a little prayer I want to pray tonight before bed:

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for being patient with me when I waver. Thank You for holding me when I’m tired of trying to hold everything together. I lay down my need to control, my fear of failure, my doubt, and my anxiety at Your feet.
You are the Author and Perfecter of my faith. I trust that You are writing a beautiful story, even if I’m only on a confusing page right now. Help me to rest in the truth that You see me, You know me, and You love me more than I can comprehend.
Teach me to trust You more tomorrow than I did today.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

I think about Peter walking on water sometimes. The second he looked at the waves instead of Jesus, he sank. And yet—You didn’t let him drown. You reached out and pulled him back up. That story gets me every time.

You didn’t shame him for looking away. You didn’t abandon him when he got scared. You just reached out and saved him.

That’s who You are, Lord.

You’re not waiting for me to be perfect. You’re just waiting for me to trust You.

So tomorrow, I’m going to my best to wake up and remind myself: God’s got this.

When God Whispers: Finding Faith in the Silence

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today has been quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brings peace, necessarily — more like the kind of quiet that feels like You’re hiding. I don’t want to admit it, but I’ve felt distant from You lately, like I’m calling out into a canyon and all I hear is my own voice echoing back. It scares me.

I keep thinking of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. After the fire, after the earthquake, after the wind… there You were — not in the chaos, but in the still small voice. A whisper.

“And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.”
— 1 Kings 19:12 (ESV)

I wonder if I’m just too distracted to hear Your whisper.

This morning, I sat with my coffee and tried to read the Word like I usually do. But I’ll be honest — I didn’t get far. My mind kept wandering to everything I feel like I’m missing: direction, clarity, certainty. I want to know what You want from me — with my career, with my singleness, with this sense of waiting I can’t shake.

I know faith isn’t about feelings. I know that. I’ve told myself that a hundred times. But I miss feeling You near.

So I prayed:
“God, if You’re here — please, help me to hear You. Even in the silence. Especially in the silence.”

And right then, I felt a strange peace settle over me. Not loud. Not even warm, really. But steady. Like a whisper I couldn’t quite catch, but I knew was meant for me.

Maybe that’s what faith looks like sometimes — trusting that You’re present even when You don’t speak loud.

I remembered Psalm 46:10:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Being still is harder than it sounds. My brain constantly wants answers. Movement. Resolution. But You invite me into stillness. Not just quiet around me, but quiet in me. A heart that isn’t frantic for answers but anchored in You.

Faith, I think, is most real when it has to lean on who You are, not what I can hear or feel.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
— Hebrews 11:1 (ESV)

I guess I’ve been measuring closeness with You by how “seen” or “heard” I feel. But maybe this is one of those seasons where You’re inviting me deeper — past the emotional highs, into the quiet trust.

Like a relationship that matures. Less fireworks, more foundation.

There’s something beautiful and hard about that.

I walked down to the lake near my apartment this evening. The water was still — not a breeze. Just birdsong and the hum of life going on. I sat on a bench and asked You again: “Are You here?” I didn’t hear a voice. No signs. But my eyes caught this tiny ripple on the surface of the lake — like something beneath moved, unseen, but there.

I don’t know why, but I thought: That’s You. Moving beneath the surface of my life. Quietly. Faithfully. Even when I can’t see it. Even when I forget to notice.

It reminded me of Isaiah 30:15:

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

That’s the kind of strength I want. Not the kind that performs or pretends to have it all figured out. But the quiet strength of a heart that trusts You are good — especially when I don’t have the map.

Jesus, I believe You are enough for me in the silence. I don’t need a booming voice or a perfect plan. I just need You. And You’ve promised You’ll never leave.

“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
— Matthew 28:20 (ESV)

Tonight, I’ll go to bed still not knowing exactly what’s next. Still single. Still unsure about grad school. Still a little worn down. But I will lay my head down in peace — not because the silence is gone, but because You are in it.

You whisper, and that’s enough.

Let me learn to lean in. To trust even when You seem far. To believe that You’re close even when it feels quiet.

A Prayer Before I Sleep:

God,
Thank You for meeting me in the silence.
Even when I can’t feel You, You’re faithful.
Teach me to listen for Your whispers —
Not just in the quiet around me,
But in the stillness of my soul.
Grow my faith in the unseen.
Help me to rest in Your presence —
Not because I have all the answers,
But because I know You hold them.
I love You, even when I don’t understand.
I trust You, even when You whisper.
And I’m Yours, always.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.