Tag: christianity

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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.

Yesterday, Today, Forever: Jesus Never Changing, Always Reigning

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This summer has been one of those summers where the world feels like it ‘was’s sprinting past me—faster than I could even begin to process. Social media keeps changing. Relationships keep shifting. People come and go. My job feels like it demands more and more, yet gives back less. My body—this temple of the Holy Spirit—feels like it’s already starting to wear down. And still, in the midst of the chaos, the noise, the comparison, the constant “be more, do more” energy, I found myself anchored in one simple truth:

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” – Hebrews 13:8

I memorized that verse when I was maybe ten. Back then it was just words. A nice saying on a Sunday school wall or written inside a greeting card. But now? At this age, with everything I’ve seen, felt, and gone through, this verse is not just a line—it’s a lifeline. A hand I hold onto when I feel like I’m drowning in the unpredictability of this life.

And I’m not just writing this to encourage myself. I’m writing this as a reminder, a challenge even, to anyone who claims the name of Jesus but is walking around like they’ve forgotten who He is. Because if we truly believe that Jesus Christ never changes, then why are so many of us walking in fear? In compromise? In anxiety, as if we’ve got no Rock to stand on?

I’m tired of sugarcoating it.
I’m tired of pretending like it’s okay that people who profess Jesus act like He’s only reliable when things are going their way. When life turns, and storms hit—and they always do—suddenly we question everything. But here’s the truth that won’t change no matter how we feel:

“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.” — Malachi 3:6

That’s who He is. He doesn’t shift with the trends. He doesn’t leave when we mess up. He doesn’t grow tired of us when we’re in our feelings. We’re not consumed because His mercy remains. That alone should drive us to our knees in gratitude.

Today I had a conversation with a friend—well, maybe more like a confrontation. She’s been drifting, and I love her too much to stay silent. She said, “God just feels so far right now,” and I asked her straight up, “Did He move, or did you?” I wasn’t trying to be harsh, but I’m so done watching people trade in the unshakable for the temporary and then wonder why their life is in shambles.

We have a generation obsessed with “finding themselves,” chasing vibes, and redefining truth—but Jesus doesn’t need rebranding. He is who He has always been. He is not a trend. He is not an option. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6). Period.

Personal Prayer:

Jesus, my anchor, thank You for never changing. When everything around me shifts, You remain the same. When I am inconsistent, You are faithful. When I am weak, You are strong. When my heart is confused, Your truth is clear. I repent for the times I’ve tried to find stability in things that were never meant to hold me. Remind me every single day that You are the same God who walked with Abraham, sat with the woman at the well, healed the blind, and conquered death. You are the same God who walks with me. Thank You, Lord. In Your name I pray, amen.

The truth is, consistency is rare now. Even people’s morals shift depending on the crowd they’re with. But God’s Word doesn’t change to fit in. It changes us so we no longer fit into the brokenness of this world.

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” — Isaiah 40:8

Why do we chase what fades, when we have the eternal? Why do we keep putting our security in people who change like the weather, in trends that evaporate, in status that can disappear with one mistake? It’s a trap. And I’ve fallen into it too. But I’m learning—slowly, painfully, beautifully—that nothing satisfies like Jesus. And He is exactly who He’s always been.

Even when I questioned Him.
Even when I doubted myself.
Even when I let anxiety win.
Even when I ran.
Even when I shut everyone out.

He stayed.

“If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” — 2 Timothy 2:13

It’s not just comforting—it’s confronting. Because if Jesus never changes, then my excuses fall flat. I can’t say, “God understands my sin because I’m going through a lot right now.” I can’t say, “Well, things are different now, it’s a different culture.” He’s not a passive spectator. He is holy, and He calls me to be holy too (1 Peter 1:16).

This doesn’t mean perfection. But it does mean pursuit. Pursuit of righteousness. Pursuit of truth. Pursuit of Him. Because I know who He is—and He has never changed His pursuit of me.

There’s such rest in knowing that Jesus isn’t moody. He doesn’t ghost me when I’m messy. He doesn’t roll His eyes at my prayers. He doesn’t withhold love because I didn’t perform right. No. That’s human behavior, not divine.

And when I feel overwhelmed by all that’s broken—my family, my community, the world—I remember that He’s already seen it all. And He hasn’t changed His plans.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” — James 1:17

Lord, You are the gift I don’t deserve.
You are the peace I can’t explain.
You are the strength when I can’t get up.
You are the fire that never goes out.
You are my stillness when the world spins wild.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll outgrow this faith. That someday I’ll become numb or indifferent like so many others. But then I remember—it’s not about me holding on to Him. It’s about Him holding on to me.

And He never lets go.

To anyone reading this—maybe years from now, maybe when I’m not even here anymore—if you ever feel lost, if you ever feel like you can’t trust anyone or anything… remember this:

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.
He was enough for me.
He is enough for you.
And He will be enough, even when everything else fades.

Closing Prayer:

Father God, in a world full of instability, thank You for being the Rock I can stand on. Thank You for Your Son, Jesus, who never changes, who never fails, who never stops loving me. Give me courage to live boldly, love deeply, and speak truthfully. Help me be a reflection of Your consistency in an inconsistent world. Let me never forget what You’ve done, who You are, and that You are not finished with me yet.
In Jesus’ unchanging name, amen.

Even when the world is unrecognizable, I can recognize Him.
Even when I don’t know what tomorrow looks like—I know who holds it.
Even when I am not enough—He is.

Jesus Christ never changes. And that changes everything.

Trusting God When He Seems Quiet

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Yesterday was one of those Mondays where I felt everything all at once. Too much and not enough. Angry, tired, hopeful, lonely, spiritually dry—but oddly still full of a flicker of faith that refuses to go out. I’m starting to believe that emotions can actually wear down the body. They’re loud. They’re inconsistent. They’re draining. And they don’t always care about what’s true.

Honestly, I feel like God’s been silent lately. Not gone. Just quiet.

And I hate writing that out, because I know it’s not true. I know God hasn’t left. I know He hears me. I know He’s with me—everywhere, all the time. Psalm 139:7-10 comes to mind:

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

I know this. I’ve studied it. I’ve clung to it. I’ve prayed it over other people.

But yesterday? Yesterday I didn’t feel it. Not even a little.

And I hate that, because it feels like I’m betraying God with my doubts. But at the same time, I know He’s big enough to handle them. So here I am—writing to keep from exploding, praying between the lines, hoping that maybe in the silence, He’s actually speaking in a way I just haven’t learned to listen for yet.

I guess what’s really messing me up is how easily my emotions try to rewrite the truth. One second I’m laughing with a friend and feeling like maybe I’ve turned a corner, then a thought hits me—something small, like a memory or a disappointment—and I spiral. Like a trapdoor opens under my feet and I’m falling through sadness, doubt, and disconnection.

Why does God feel so far?

Why does my prayer feel like it hits the ceiling and drops back down?

Why am I pouring out my heart and getting nothing but holy silence in return?

But then again… maybe God isn’t silent. Maybe He’s just still. And maybe still isn’t a bad thing.

I think of Elijah in 1 Kings 19:11-12—

“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”

That whisper… that’s where God was. A whisper isn’t loud. A whisper doesn’t interrupt. A whisper waits until you’re leaning in close enough to hear it.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe God’s whispering and my emotions are just too loud to hear Him.

Still, I’ve been tempted to demand, “God, where are You?!”


But instead, this has been my prayer:
“Lord, I know You’re here, but I feel like I can’t find You. Why am I struggling to connect with You? Help me not to confuse silence with absence. Help me remember that Your truth is bigger than how I feel.”

And I really do believe that. I believe that truth and feelings are not the same thing. I believe that feelings can be deceiving, while truth is steady—even when I can’t see it. Even when it doesn’t comfort me the way I want it to.

Emotions are powerful. I’m not going to pretend they’re not. But they are not ultimate. And I’ve made a decision—not just yesterday, but every day—to keep my eyes on what I know instead of what I feel. That’s not easy. It’s war, honestly.

Sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of a battlefield with two versions of myself. One that wants to scream at God and the other that wants to cry in His lap. One that says “This isn’t fair” and the other that says “Just hold on.” One that’s angry, and one that’s desperate.

I’ve come to realize both can exist. God’s big enough to hold both.

Psalm 34:18 says:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

It doesn’t say He shames them. It doesn’t say He avoids them. It says He’s close to them.

And I need that closeness more than I need answers.

I guess part of me assumed that if I’m faithful, I should feel close to God all the time. But that’s not biblical. That’s emotionalism. Even David—man after God’s own heart—cried out in Psalm 13:1-2:

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”

That doesn’t sound like someone disconnected from God. That sounds like someone deeply connected—so much so, that when the emotional connection feels gone, the pain of it is unbearable.

I get that. I feel that.

But David didn’t stop there. A few verses later in Psalm 13:5-6, he says:

“But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.”

That’s the balance I’m fighting for.

Yes, I feel disappointed. Yes, I feel unheard sometimes. Yes, I feel like I’m knocking on Heaven’s door and no one’s answering.


But I will still trust in His unfailing love. I will still rejoice in His salvation. I will still praise Him—not because I feel like it, but because He is worthy.

There’s a discipline to faith that people don’t talk about enough. Sometimes faith isn’t this magical, peaceful thing. Sometimes it’s gritty. It’s showing up to pray even when you feel ignored. It’s reading the Word when you feel numb. It’s worshiping with tears running down your face, choking on lyrics you’re not sure you even believe in the moment.

That’s real faith. That’s tested faith.

So here’s my prayer tonight, and I’ll be real:

Father,

I don’t understand why You feel quiet. I know You’re not gone. I know You love me. But right now, I feel dry, tired, and like I’m wandering around in a fog. I need You. Not just Your blessings, not just Your answers—I need YOU.


Help me to hear Your whisper.
Help me to lean in, instead of walking away.
Help me to live by truth, not by mood swings.


Help me not to fall for the lies the enemy plants when You seem still.
Lord, make me faithful in the silence. Make me attentive in the quiet.


Give me eyes to see You, even if it’s just in a sunrise, or a kind word, or the peace in my own chest.


You’re worth trusting. Even now. Especially now.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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.

Blessings Beyond Measure

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

God, I’m sitting here tonight with the windows open. The breeze smells like wet grass, or maybe it’s freshly cut grass, but whichever, I love that smell. It’s subtle—but it’s sweet. And I just can’t keep this feeling inside anymore: I’m so overwhelmed by the beauty You’ve created. The more I look at this world, the more I realize… I’ve barely scratched the surface of what You’ve made. And yet, even this tiny glimpse stirs something in me so deep, I want to shout praises from the rooftops, as corny as that sounds, but it feels so wonderful God.


You didn’t have to make the sky shift colors at sunset.
You didn’t have to create thousands of fish with different patterns and personalities.
You didn’t have to make flowers that bloom for just a week—but You did.
Why? Because You’re not just Creator. You’re generous. You’re thoughtful. And You are good.

You are so good, God.

I mean, Genesis 1 makes it pretty clear:
“And God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1:31 ESV)
Not just “okay.” Not “meh.” You called it very good. And I get it. I see it. I feel it in my soul.

Even the parts of nature that scare me—like thunderstorms, volcanoes, or deep oceans—I’m learning to reverence those too. Because even their wildness obeys You. You set their boundaries.


“Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb… when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’?” (Job 38:8,11 NIV)

I don’t care what scientists or skeptics say. I don’t care if people roll their eyes and say, “It’s just evolution,” or “It’s just nature doing its thing.” No, it’s not just anything.
It’s Yours.

And if I have to be that woman who stands in a room and says “Nope, actually GOD did that,” then I will. I’d rather be mocked for standing by my faith than silently agree with a world that forgets who painted the skies.

Lord, I’m thankful by faith. Because this kind of gratitude requires more than just observation. It requires belief. Eyes that see beyond what’s visible. Faith that declares, even in a world twisted by sin, God’s creation is still speaking.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (Psalm 19:1 NIV)

Every time the sun rises, it’s testifying.
Every wave that crashes, every leaf that flutters in the wind, every star that burns millions of miles away—all of them are testifying to Your majesty. And I’m listening, Lord.

I’m not pretending everything is perfect. I know creation groans. Romans 8:22 says so:
“We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”


But even in the groaning, there’s glory. Even in the brokenness, there’s beauty. Even in the suffering, there’s still evidence of a Creator who cares.

What blows my mind the most, God, is that You didn’t make everything in black and white. You didn’t make it sterile or boring. You gave us color. And textures. And scents. And sounds. I mean… oranges smell like sunshine. Lavender smells like peace. Ocean waves sound like rest. And birds sing like they were born to worship.

You made this world with so much love. You didn’t rush it. You didn’t mass-produce it. You crafted it.


Every creature. Every corner. Every ecosystem.
You are the original artist, and nature is Your canvas.
And I feel sorry for anyone who misses that.

That’s the part that makes me bold. Maybe even confrontational. Because I will not sit quiet while people pretend the universe made itself. No. God made it.
And not only that—You sustain it.

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” (Colossians 1:17 ESV)

Without You, the oceans would rise out of control. The planets would collide. The sun would burn us up or vanish.
But You hold it all.
I don’t need scientific data to prove that.
I feel it in my bones.
I believe it because I know You.

Even if no one else around me acknowledged You, I’d still bow in gratitude. I’d still praise You in the middle of a forest, or on a crowded street, or stuck in traffic. Because I see what You’ve done.

I mean… how can I not?
You made fireflies that glow like little lanterns.
You made snowflakes that are all different—every. single. one.
You made the Grand Canyon and grains of sand.
You did that.

Lord, forgive us for taking it for granted. Forgive me, even, for walking past flowers without stopping to admire them. Forgive us for driving under starry skies with our eyes glued to glowing screens instead. What a tragedy, to miss the Creator’s artwork because of distraction. What a waste.

So tonight, I’m stopping.

I’m pausing everything and just saying: Thank You.
Not just for what You made, but how You made it. And why.

Because You didn’t just make it to be beautiful—you made it to reveal Yourself.

Nature reflects Your character. Your patience. Your order. Your extravagance.
Creation is not God—but it sure points to You like a neon sign.

I think of Romans 1:20:
“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”


That hits hard. Nobody has an excuse to not believe. Creation is literally shouting that You exist. We just need to stop covering our ears.

So here’s my prayer tonight, God:

God,
Thank You for the wonder of Your creation.
Thank You for the stars, the sea, the sky, and every living thing.
Thank You that You made a world in color, with sounds and scents and sensations that feed our souls.


I praise You not just for what my eyes can see, but for what my spirit knows.
Even when I don’t understand everything, I trust the One who made it all.
Give me eyes to see more. A heart to feel deeper. A voice to speak bolder.
Don’t let me get numb to the beauty around me.
Help me never take it for granted again.


Let my gratitude be loud. Let my faith be stubborn.
Let my life worship You in how I see, love, protect, and appreciate Your creation.
In Jesus’ mighty, creative, beautiful name — Amen.

Final Thoughts…..

I guess some people would say this kind of awe fades with age. But I refuse that.
I want to stay wide-eyed and wonder-filled all my life. I want to be 80 years old still gasping at the moon like it’s the first time I’ve seen it.

Because You never get old, God.
Your mercies are new every morning.
Your creation is a constant sermon.
And I’m here for all of it.

I’m thankful by faith.
Not because I’ve seen every miracle, but because creation is already a miracle in motion.
And my soul knows it well.

God’s Truth Over Human Proof

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Heavenly Father,

I’m writing from a place I know You’ve called me to—honesty, vulnerability, and trust. Not performative trust. Not the “I’m fine, I know God’s got this” trust I put on when people ask how I’m doing. But the deep, aching kind—the kind that digs into the core of who I am and challenges what I believe when life doesn’t make sense.

I’ve been wrestling with facts. The facts say things are not going well. The facts say I’m behind in life. The facts say that what I prayed for didn’t happen—again. But Lord, You keep whispering to me, “Don’t trust the facts. Trust Me.”

I keep thinking about Proverbs 3:5-6:
“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.”


I’ve quoted that verse a thousand times. But tonight, it feels confrontational. It’s telling me that my understanding of the facts—my human logic—isn’t the final word. You are. And honestly, that both comforts me and frustrates me.

It comforts me because I know You’re bigger than the circumstances. But it frustrates me because I want clarity, not mystery. I want proof, not promises. I want to see it before I believe it—but You ask me to believe it before I see it.

Why is that so hard, Lord?

Because my flesh is loud.
Because my mind wants explanations.
Because the world worships evidence and mocks faith.

But here’s the thing: facts are not the same as truth.


Facts are what we see. Truth is what You say.


And You are Truth—not just a version of it. Not just a perspective. You are the Truth (John 14:6).

So here’s where I stand tonight: I’m choosing Your truth over human proof.

Even when it’s hard.
Even when I don’t have the evidence.
Even when it makes me look delusional to other people.

I don’t need to defend You. I don’t need to explain away the delays. I don’t need to convince anyone of what You’ve promised me. I just need to believe You. Period.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

That verse punches me in the pride. I want to understand, but You tell me that Your ways are so high above mine, I couldn’t even comprehend the blueprint. You’re not asking me to figure it all out—you’re asking me to walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

So tonight, I surrender—again. Not just in theory, but in practice.

I lay down my timeline.
I lay down my need for proof.
I lay down the idol of certainty.
I lay down the fear that says, “What if God doesn’t come through?”

You will come through. You always have. Even when You didn’t answer the way I wanted, You answered the way I needed. That’s what a good Father does.

God, I confess that I’ve let fear interpret the facts of my life. I’ve looked at closed doors and assumed You were silent. I’ve looked at empty hands and assumed You were absent. Forgive me. Remind me that You are always working, even in the unseen. Strengthen my faith, Holy Spirit. I don’t want a faith that collapses under pressure. I want a faith that declares, “My God is still good, even when the facts don’t look favorable.”

You’re not a God of convenience; You’re a God of covenant. You don’t break promises. You don’t forget prayers. You’re not slow; You’re strategic.

So I declare tonight: Your truth over my facts.
Your voice over my logic.
Your promises over my panic.

Help me trust You with the facts of my life—because no one is more qualified to interpret them than You.

Amen.

I keep thinking about Joseph. The facts of his life looked like failure.

  • Betrayed by his brothers.
  • Sold into slavery.
  • Falsely accused.
  • Forgotten in prison.

But God was with him the entire time. And in Genesis 50:20, Joseph says something so powerful, it echoes in my soul tonight:


“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

That’s it. That’s the perspective I need.
What looks like harm may actually be preparation.
What feels like a setback may be the setup for something greater.
What seems like the end might just be the middle.

God, You are not just watching my life play out. You are directing it.

And I hear You saying, “Let Me interpret the facts. You don’t have to.”

Maybe what feels like rejection is actually Your protection.
Maybe the silence is not absence—it’s incubation.
Maybe You’re growing something in me that needs this exact season of pressure.

You’re not random. You’re intentional. And I don’t want to miss the purpose because I was too focused on the proof.

Father, give me eyes to see what You see.
When my heart tries to interpret the facts through fear, remind me of Your Word.
Let me not be led by feelings, but by faith.
Not by human evidence, but by divine revelation.
I declare: I will not let circumstances define what You already decided.

I silence every lie of the enemy that says I’m forgotten, behind, or disqualified.
Your truth says I’m chosen.
Your truth says You’re working all things together for my good (Romans 8:28).
Your truth says You started a good work in me and You’ll finish it (Philippians 1:6).

So I rest.
Not in denial of the facts—but in confidence that You’re above them.

I guess what I’m learning, slowly but surely, is that faith isn’t denial. It’s defiance.

Faith says, “Yes, I see the facts—but I still believe God.”
Faith is standing on a battlefield, outnumbered, and saying, “This is the Lord’s fight.”
Faith is putting one foot in front of the other, even when it feels like walking in the dark.

I’m not always going to feel strong. But I can still choose faith.
I can still choose to trust the God who’s never lied, never failed, and never abandoned me.

Tonight, I breathe a little deeper. I cry a little softer.
And I believe a little harder.

Because God’s truth > human proof.
Every single time.

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.

The Gospel According to Hip-Hop: Rap Music is Unbiblical

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord,

I come before You (God), not just heavy-hearted—but righteously burdened. My spirit is grieving. I feel like I’ve been exposed to a spiritual sewage system, and I’m still trying to wash it off. Today I finished something I wasn’t excited to do, but I knew I had to. For the sake of truth. For the sake of conviction. For the sake of clarity. I watched and listened to 20 of the most popular rap songs and music videos—from across regions, races, and genders. West Coast. East Coast. South. Canada. White rappers. Black rappers. Female rappers. Mainstream ones everyone worships. The ones you can’t escape on TikTok, YouTube, or even in stores. I consumed it all, and Lord…I feel sick.

Rap music is unbiblical. It’s not just problematic—it’s spiritually dangerous.

All 20 glorified drug use. 17 of 20 pushed alcohol like it’s a sacrament. Every single one glorified sexual promiscuity. Every single video objectified women—half-naked, posed like decorations. All 20 glorified violence. 14 of them mentioned strip clubs like they’re casual hangout spots. All of them idolized wealth and greed. 4 of the 20 bragged about having children with multiple women, like it’s a trophy.

God, what are we doing as a culture? What are we swallowing with these beats?

I kept thinking of 1 John 2:15-17 while watching:

“Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions—is not from the Father but is from the world.”

Every single one of those rap videos was a shrine to the desires of the flesh. A literal soundtrack for sin. A celebration of things that destroy souls and communities. And we’re bopping our heads to it?

God, forgive us.

I’m not some uptight religious prude. I’m 25. I grew up with this music in my ears and in my environment. But now I’m looking at it through Your eyes, through Scripture, through discernment—and I can’t pretend anymore.

I can’t clap to a beat that mocks Your holiness.

I can’t nod to lyrics that normalize violence, glorify fornication, and treat women as body parts.

I can’t pretend it’s “just entertainment” when it’s shaping how people live, how they love, how they parent, how they define success.

Let me say this too: This is not about race. This isn’t about white rappers or Black rappers. This is about spirit.

This is about what spirit is operating behind this music.

Because from what I listened to, it’s not the Holy Spirit.

It’s a spirit of perversion.
A spirit of rebellion.
A spirit of lust.
A spirit of greed.
A spirit of violence.
A spirit of mockery toward anything sacred.

Ephesians 5:11 says:

“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.”

And that’s what I’m doing. Not out of self-righteousness. Not out of legalism. But out of obedience and love.

I’m calling this out because we’re pretending this stuff is neutral when it’s clearly anti-God. And I’m tired of being quiet.

God, how have we let this become our culture’s voice?

Why is music that glorifies:

  • Murder
  • Drug dealing
  • Strippers
  • Cheating
  • Porn-like visuals
  • Disrespect of women
  • Idolatry of money

…become what we call “art” and even worse—“inspiring”?

Isaiah 5:20 comes to mind:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness.”

That’s what’s happening.

We’re dressing up sin in catchy beats and slick production, and then wondering why our generation is depressed, addicted, broken, fatherless, and obsessed with sex and money.

And You know what’s worse, Lord? Some Christians are defending it.

There’s nothing redemptive about a song that tells young boys they’re real men if they sleep with 10 women and kill their enemies.
There’s nothing holy about a woman rapping about abortion like it’s a power move and calling herself a god.

Nothing about that reflects You, Jesus.

And if we’re honest, we know it.

Father, cleanse my mind.

I honestly feel like I need to fast after today.
I saw too much. Heard too much.
I felt it in my spirit. The grime. The pride. The lust.
It made me sad. It made me mad.
It made me want to throw my phone into a lake.

But I know hiding isn’t the answer. Speaking truth is.

Psalm 101:3 says:

“I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. I hate the work of those who fall away; it shall not cling to me.”

I don’t want this music clinging to me. I don’t want it clinging to my friends. I don’t want it in my house, in my car, or in my spirit.

Holy Spirit, speak to those who’ve been numbed by this culture.

Speak to the girl who thinks she has to twerk to get attention.
Speak to the boy who thinks he’s worthless unless he’s rich and feared.
Speak to the artist who once had a calling but sold out for fame.
Speak to the Christian who shrugs off this music because “everyone’s listening to it.”

Wake us up, Lord.

I’m praying bold prayers tonight.
Not weak ones. Not soft ones.

Because we’re in a war. And the enemy is using art, music, culture, and pride to lull us into destruction.

Prayer:

God, I pray You shut the mouths of artists who are poisoning minds for profit.
I pray You convict every heart that’s listening to sin with delight.
I pray You give spiritual ears to the deaf.
I pray You raise up a generation that doesn’t just love beats—but loves truth.
I pray You remind Your people that holiness still matters. That purity is still power. That our minds are temples, not trash cans.
I pray for mercy over the youth who are consuming this filth, not knowing it’s rotting their souls.
I pray for revival in the music world.
I pray for repentance in the churches that are silent.
And I pray for strength to keep speaking truth—even when it’s unpopular.

Final Thought:

This isn’t about being “anti-rap.”
This is about being pro-holiness.
It’s about being pro-Jesus.
And honestly, if that makes me seem “intense” or “religious” or “judgmental,” then so be it.

I’m not here to be liked.
I’m here to be faithful.

Lord, help me always choose conviction over comfort.
Even if I’m the only one not dancing to the beat of Babylon.

Amen.

Why Do the 10 Commandments Scare Liberals and Atheists?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can’t seem to stop thinking about the world around me and how far we’ve drifted from God. I was scrolling through the news this morning while sipping my coffee, and I saw another story about how public schools are being pressured to ban displays of the Ten Commandments. Again. It breaks my heart. What’s happening to our nation?

I’m 25. I was raised in a Christian home. I’ve never doubted that the Bible is the Word of God and that Jesus Christ is Lord. But more and more, I feel like I’m living in a world where loving God openly is seen as controversial—or even offensive.

Why do the Ten Commandments scare liberals and atheists so much? Why do they fight so hard to keep them out of schools, out of courthouses, off of walls, and out of sight?

The Ten Commandments are not hateful. They don’t incite violence. They don’t promote division. They are a simple, powerful list of God’s moral expectations for us. They’re good. They’re righteous. And I truly believe they are exactly what our nation needs right now.

CLICK TO CHECK OUT THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL THAT ATHEISTS CANNOT STAND

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” — Proverbs 9:10

I keep going back to that verse, and I wonder: is that what this is really about? Are people afraid of the wisdom that comes from fearing God? Maybe they don’t want to be reminded that there is a higher authority—Someone greater than themselves. We live in a culture that tells us to be our own gods. To follow our truth. To reject anything absolute. But God’s commandments are absolute. They don’t change with the times. They don’t bend to public opinion.

“You shall have no other gods before Me.” — Exodus 20:3

Isn’t that the first issue? We’ve created a society that worships self. We idolize fame, success, sexuality, independence, and human reasoning. That’s probably why the Ten Commandments feel like a threat to people who don’t believe in God or who follow secular or liberal ideologies. God’s commandments call out sin. They expose the parts of ourselves we’d rather keep hidden. And no one likes to be told they’re wrong.

Even for me—someone who believes wholeheartedly—there are times when God’s commandments are convicting. I read them and realize how far I fall short. But that’s the point. They’re meant to lead us to repentance and to Jesus, who fulfilled the Law perfectly.

A Prayer:

Lord Jesus, thank You for Your perfect law that teaches us right from wrong. Thank You that when we fall short, You offer us grace and salvation through Your sacrifice. Help me, Lord, to never be ashamed of Your Word. Give me courage to stand for truth even when the world mocks it. Amen.

I think liberals especially see the Ten Commandments as “imposing religion.” They argue that schools are supposed to be neutral, but the truth is, they’re not neutral anymore. They promote secular ideologies all the time—like gender identity theory, moral relativism, and humanism. Those are belief systems. They just don’t want God to have a place.

Atheists, on the other hand, often argue that morality doesn’t require religion. But I wonder—if there’s no God, then what’s the foundation for good and evil? Who gets to decide what’s right and wrong? Without an objective standard, everything becomes subjective. That’s what we’re seeing now. A generation of young people raised to believe there are no absolute truths—and we wonder why society feels chaotic.

“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” — Judges 21:25

That verse feels like a perfect summary of modern culture. When people reject God’s commands, they end up creating their own. And those man-made rules constantly shift based on feelings, trends, and popular opinion.

I remember learning the Ten Commandments in Sunday school as a little girl. I still remember the colorful poster on the wall:

  1. No other gods
  2. No idols
  3. Don’t misuse God’s name
  4. Keep the Sabbath holy
  5. Honor your parents
  6. Don’t murder
  7. Don’t commit adultery
  8. Don’t steal
  9. Don’t lie
  10. Don’t covet

There is nothing harmful in these commands. In fact, if everyone just lived by even half of them, the world would be a better place. Less crime. Less cheating. Less greed. Less selfishness.

“For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. And His commandments are not burdensome.” — 1 John 5:3

God never gave us these laws to control us or to make us feel small. He gave them because He loves us. He wants to protect us—from each other and from ourselves.

So when I see people fighting so hard to remove the Ten Commandments from public view, I don’t see that as strength—I see it as fear. They’re afraid of truth. Afraid of conviction. Afraid of accountability.

But more than anything, I think they’re afraid of surrender.

Because once you admit there’s a God, you have to reckon with the fact that you are not Him. And that means you need saving.

A Prayer:

Father God, I lift up this nation to You. We’ve strayed so far from Your truth. So many hearts are hardened. So many minds are deceived. But I know nothing is too hard for You. Lord, open the eyes of the lost. Let Your Word go forth boldly in schools, in homes, in churches, and in government. Let revival begin, even if it starts with just a few faithful hearts. Let it start with me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I don’t write all this because I think I’m better than anyone else. I’m not. I’m just a sinner saved by grace. But I can’t stay silent anymore. I can’t keep watching the world fall apart while Christians are told to stay quiet, to be “tolerant,” to keep our beliefs to ourselves.

The Ten Commandments aren’t hate speech. They’re God’s loving boundaries. And the more we ignore them, the more damage we cause. That’s not just theory—I see it in the brokenness around me. Broken families. Confused kids. Violence. Addiction. Anxiety. So much of it is spiritual.

God’s law isn’t outdated—it’s timeless. He knew what humanity would need, even thousands of years later. We keep trying to reinvent the wheel, but all we do is make it wobblier.

“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” — Proverbs 14:34

We need righteousness again. We need to lift up God’s truth—not hide it away like it’s shameful.

So tonight, I’m praying boldly. I’m asking God to give Christians courage. To give school leaders wisdom. To give lawmakers conviction. And to give lost hearts a hunger for something real.

Because nothing is more real than God.

Final Prayer:

Lord, I know You are still on the throne. No court ruling, no social trend, no political movement can dethrone You. Help me trust in Your plan. Help me be a light in this dark world. And help me never be ashamed of the gospel or the commandments that reflect Your holy character. Give me grace to speak truth in love. And give me strength to stand, even if I stand alone. I love You, Lord. I trust You with my life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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.