Tag: christianity

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.

Living Without Lies: A Christian’s Duty to Speak Truth

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can feel the Lord’s presence, and it comforts me more than I can explain. My heart is full, but there’s also this lingering conviction I can’t ignore. God has been pressing something on me all day, through my quiet time this morning, my conversation with a friend over coffee, and even during that awkward moment at work when I laughed at something I knew I shouldn’t have. I think I’m finally understanding: God is calling me to a deeper honesty. Not just the absence of lying… but full, raw, truthfulness—in all things.

I don’t know why it hit so hard this morning. Maybe because I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty honest person. I don’t steal, I don’t tell outrageous lies, I don’t deceive people—at least not on purpose. But honesty isn’t just about not lying, is it?

It’s about integrity. Transparency. Vulnerability.
And I think I’ve been cutting corners with all three.

Ephesians 4:25:
“Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.”

That verse wouldn’t let go of me. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command. If I’m part of Your body, if I represent Christ, then I don’t have the option to hide behind half-truths, people-pleasing, or pretending I’m okay when I’m not. You’ve commanded me—not recommended—to speak truthfully.

I think about how often I smile and say “I’m good” when I’m not. How I keep things from my family so they won’t worry. Or how I try to clean myself up emotionally before I come to You in prayer, like I need to get my act together first. But that’s not what You want, is it?

You want me real. And raw. Even messy.

Prayer:
God, forgive me for the ways I’ve hidden behind niceties or avoided uncomfortable truths. I want to be honest—with You, with the people I love, and even with myself. Thank You that I don’t have to pretend with You. You already know me inside out (Psalm 139:1-4). Help me walk in truth, even when it costs me pride or comfort. Amen.

I think the hardest thing for me right now is being honest with myself about where I’m still growing. About the areas I try to gloss over or rationalize. Like how I sometimes water down conversations about You when I’m around people who don’t believe. Or when I make excuses for not spending time in the Word because I’m “too tired” when really, I just don’t feel like facing conviction.

But You’ve reminded me over and over again: Honesty is the foundation of relationship.
You can’t have intimacy with someone you’re constantly trying to impress or hide from.

That’s why being honest with GOD matters so much. Because if I can’t be truthful my creator… how could I ever expect to be truthful with others about God’s presence in my life?

I remembered what David wrote in Psalm 51:6:
“Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.”

Truth in the inward parts. That’s deep.
That’s not just honesty in what I say—it’s honesty in how I live. Honesty in my motivations. In my worship. In my repentance.

And the amazing part is… when I bring that truth to You, You don’t reject me. You refine me. You heal me.

Prayer:
Jesus, You are the Truth (John 14:6). Make me like You. Let truth dwell so deeply in me that it transforms how I live and love. Guard my mouth from deceit. Teach me to love truth even when it’s hard. Give me courage to speak it in love to others (Ephesians 4:15), and grace when others speak truth to me. Amen.

I talked to Sarah about this over coffee today. She admitted she’s been struggling too—especially with how hard it is to be honest with non-Christian friends about what we believe. It’s tempting to soften the edges of the gospel to make it more palatable. But You didn’t call us to be popular, Lord. You called us to be faithful.

Proverbs 12:22 says:
“The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy.”

I want to be someone You delight in. Not someone who plays it safe or dances around truth to avoid awkwardness.

I think about how Jesus spoke truth everywhere He went. And not just comfortable truth. He called out hypocrisy. He told people to repent. He even challenged His closest friends when they were out of line. And yet, people still followed Him—because He was full of grace and truth (John 1:14). I want that balance in my own life.

I don’t want to be harsh or self-righteous. But I don’t want to be lukewarm or vague either. The world doesn’t need another nice girl who’s too scared to talk about Jesus. The world needs light. The world needs truth. The world needs You.

So Lord, help me to be honest—really honest—about who You are, what You’ve done in my life, and what it means to follow You. Let my testimony be filled with truth, even if it’s messy. Even if it’s awkward. Even if it makes people uncomfortable. Because the truth is the only thing that can set people free (John 8:32).

Prayer:
God, give me holy boldness. Make me brave enough to be honest when I share the gospel. Help me love people enough to tell them the truth, even if it costs me something. Fill my heart with compassion, not compromise. Let my life point to You in truth and love. Amen.

I can’t believe how much God has shown me today. God never stops pursuing my heart. And even when God corrects me, it feels like love. Thank You for being so patient with me Lord. Thank You for caring more about my soul than my comfort.

I know this journey won’t be easy. There will be moments I’ll want to shrink back or stay quiet. But I also know God promised to be with me.

Isaiah 41:10 says:
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

That’s all I need to keep walking in truth.
The Lord will strengthen me.
God helps me.
God holds me up.

So here I am, Lord.
All of me.
The good, the messy, the in-between.

No pretending. No performing.
Just me.
Just truth.
Just Yours.

Final Prayer:
God, thank You for calling me to truth—not to shame me, but to free me. Thank You that honesty leads to healing, intimacy, and growth. Make me a woman of integrity. A woman of Your Word. A woman unafraid of truth because I know who holds it. Use my honesty to glorify You and to point others to the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. In Jesus’ holy name, Amen.

Thank you, Lord.
I love You more than anything.
And today… I love You with honesty.

Passing the Torch of Grace

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This week feels heavier than usual—not in a bad way, but in a way that makes me pause, reflect, and search my heart deeper than I have in a while. I just finished a devotional on leaving a legacy, and it hit something in me. Something sacred. The kind of stirring that can only come from You.

I’m only 25, but lately, I’ve been asking myself: When I leave this earth, what will I be remembered for?
Not the clothes I wore, the selfies I posted, or even the goals I crushed. But the eternal things—the ones that carry weight in Your Kingdom. I don’t want my life to echo with the applause of people, I want it to echo with the sound of surrendered worship, poured-out love, and seeds of faith that sprout long after I’m gone.

Scripture that pierced my heart this week:
“Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.” – Matthew 6:20 (NIV)

Lord, what am I storing up? I don’t want to be so focused on building a life that the world claps for that I forget the life You’ve called me to build—a legacy rooted in You. The world glorifies glitter, hustle, and self-glory. But You… You glorified sacrifice, humility, and serving.

You said in Acts 20:35,
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
And I believe that, with every part of my soul.

When people remember me, I want them to say, “She lived for Jesus, even when it wasn’t easy. She loved when it hurt. She forgave when it wasn’t fair. She gave when she had little. She served without needing applause. And she burned with a hunger for God’s Word that could light up others.”

That’s the legacy I want. One that sets others ablaze for You, Jesus.

Thoughts I’m wrestling with tonight:

  • What kind of seeds am I sowing right now that will outlive me?
  • Who am I discipling, encouraging, praying for?
  • What part of my story is helping someone else find You?

I feel this urgency—not fear—but a holy burden, to make sure I’m not wasting my time on temporary things. I want to influence others for Your cause, not mine. Not my brand, not my name, not my achievements. Just You, Jesus.

Lord, help me to shift my thinking. If I understand the inheritance I have in eternity, then I won’t cling so tightly to my possessions or status here on earth. You’re teaching me that generosity doesn’t begin with money—it begins with surrender. With a heart that says, “Use me. Spend me. Pour me out.”

My Prayer Tonight:

God,
I don’t want to live a small, self-centered life. Break any chains of selfishness in me. Deliver me from the fear of being forgotten by this world, and instead give me the passion to be remembered in Heaven.
I surrender my time, my talents, my treasures. Teach me to steward them well, not for my comfort, but for Your Kingdom.
Let my life be an arrow that points straight to You.
May my legacy be one of faith, courage, love, truth, and obedience.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen.

Here’s a list I started today: Ways I can influence others for Christ:

  1. Start a Bible study with young women in my community. We’re all hungry for connection and truth, and I know I don’t have to be perfect to lead—I just have to be willing.
  2. Write letters of encouragement to people going through hard times—friends, coworkers, even strangers. Words can water souls.
  3. Be intentional with social media—use it to share Scripture, testimony, and hope, not just aesthetics.
  4. Volunteer at church regularly, especially in areas where there’s a need, not just where I’m comfortable.
  5. Give generously, even when my budget feels tight. If I believe God is my provider, I’ll give like it.
  6. Mentor a younger believer—maybe someone just starting their walk with Jesus.
  7. Serve my family with more joy and patience. Ministry starts at home.
  8. Be bold in evangelism, even if it’s just a conversation at a coffee shop or with my Uber driver.
  9. Support missionaries through prayer and giving. They’re doing frontline Kingdom work.
  10. Live transparently, so people see both my struggles and my surrender, and find freedom in knowing they’re not alone.

Spiritual Growth Plan – How I want to grow and increase my hunger for God’s Word:

✅ Wake up earlier (even 20 minutes) to spend uninterrupted time in the Bible.
✅ Memorize one verse a week—carry it in my heart like armor.
✅ Read through the New Testament in the next 90 days.
✅ Fast one day a week from something that distracts me—social media, coffee, or comfort food—and replace it with deeper prayer.
✅ Keep a Scripture journal to track the verses that speak to me and how I’m applying them.
✅ Ask God for fresh revelation every time I open His Word.
✅ Worship more—not just at church, but while I clean, drive, cook, or cry.
✅ Surround myself with God-hungry people who sharpen me spiritually.
✅ Read one Christian book a month that challenges my walk.
✅ Stay accountable with a friend for spiritual check-ins.

Some days I feel like I’m doing okay. Other days, I feel like I’m barely scratching the surface of what You’ve called me to, God. But I believe You honor the desire to grow. I believe that every step toward You matters.

Psalm 112:6 says,
“Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever.”
That’s the kind of remembrance I want. Not fame. Not praise. But eternal impact.

I think of the woman who anointed Your feet with her expensive perfume, and how You said in Matthew 26:13,
“Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

She didn’t build a platform. She poured her heart out. And You said her story would echo for eternity.
That’s the kind of legacy I want.

So tonight, Lord, I choose legacy over luxury.
I choose faithfulness over fame.
I choose obedience over opportunity.
I choose Christ over comfort.
Let my life not just be lived—but spent, sown, sacrificed, and surrendered for something bigger than me.
Let my love for You not die with me, but live on in every life I’ve touched.

Jesus, if there’s breath in my lungs, there’s purpose in my days.
Don’t let me waste them.
Write Your story through my life.