Tag: christianity

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.

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“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.

Eyes of Grace: How Jesus Saw People

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This has been one of those weeks where everything felt a little off at first—but then Jesus gently rerouted my heart. He has this quiet way of doing that—no condemnation, no shame. Just truth, soaked in love.

I’ve been praying all week on the truth that Jesus never looked down on others. That sentence alone feels like a whole sermon. It’s simple, but it hits so deep. The more I sit with it, the more I realize how often I do the exact opposite. I size people up. I make assumptions. I mentally categorize people based on what I think I know. Jesus didn’t do that. Not once.

When the Pharisees saw “a woman caught in adultery” (John 8:3–11), Jesus saw a daughter. They wanted to stone her. He stooped down, drew in the dirt, and said, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, the crowd disappeared. And then Jesus looked at her—not down on her—and said, “Neither do I condemn you… go and sin no more.”

That moment is everything.

Jesus didn’t ignore her sin. He simply looked beyond it. He saw her potential. Her future. He saw her heart—maybe fragile, maybe ashamed—but still full of worth. That’s what I want. That vision. That grace.

Lord, give me eyes like Yours. Help me see people the way You do.

There’s a woman at work I’ve silently judged for months. I hate admitting that. She talks a lot. Her laugh is loud. She flirts with the married guy from HR. And every time I see her, something in me stiffens. I think, “She’s such a mess.”

But today… I swear I heard Jesus whisper: “She’s Mine too.”

And suddenly I thought, What if I’m the only person in her life who can reflect Jesus right now? What if she’s aching to be seen for more than the mask she wears every day?

Romans 5:8 keeps coming to mind: “But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Not after we cleaned up. Not after we got our act together. While we were still a mess. Jesus loved us then. He loves us still.

And I felt this gentle nudge in my soul: What if you stopped waiting for people to be lovable and just loved them like I do?

That wrecked me in the best way.

I’ve been asking God to help me understand what it really means to be in Christ. Because if my identity is rooted in Him—not in performance, not in opinions, not in sin or shame—then it changes everything. It changes how I see myself. But more than that, it changes how I see others.

2 Corinthians 5:16-17 says:
“So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view… if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Jesus didn’t just look at broken people and see brokenness. He looked at them and saw what could be—not in some idealistic way, but in a deeply spiritual, eternal sense.

  • Where others saw a blind man, Jesus saw someone who would worship with new eyes (John 9).
  • Where others saw a crippled man, Jesus saw someone getting up and walking out of shame (John 5).
  • Where others saw a hated tax collector, Jesus saw a future disciple and gospel writer—Matthew.
  • And Zacchaeus? That “wee little man”? Jesus saw a redeemed heart climbing down a tree into grace.

Jesus, You never looked down on anyone—because You saw what we could become in You.
Help me stop labeling people by their past, their mistakes, or even their current choices. Let me see eternal beings, made in Your image, loved beyond comprehension.

Sometimes I forget that the cross was the greatest act of seeing. Jesus looked at a world full of sin and didn’t say, “They’re not worth it.”
Instead, He said: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34)

He saw ignorance, not evil. Hurt, not hatred. And still, He chose love.

That makes me think… When I look at someone who’s hurt me or someone I think is “too far gone,” what do I see?

Do I see someone Jesus died for?

Do I see someone who is just as lost as I once was before grace found me?

There’s this prayer I found tucked in my Bible, written in the margin years ago during a small group retreat. It feels relevant again tonight:

“Lord Jesus, give me Your eyes. Let me see the hurting instead of the hardened. Let me hear the cries behind the anger. Let me speak life to dry bones. Let me love beyond what makes sense. In Your name. Amen.”

I’m beginning to realize that when I fail to see others through Jesus’ eyes, it’s usually because I’ve forgotten who I am in Him. If I still think I’m only as valuable as my behavior, my social media, or my productivity—then I’ll judge others by those same shallow standards.

But Jesus flips that. Always.

Colossians 3:12 says:
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

We are chosen, holy, and dearly loved.
And because of that identity, we are called to love others the same way.

Tomorrow, I’m going to challenge myself.

For one day, I want to see and hear through the eyes and ears of Christ. That’s the challenge from my devotion today. And it scares me a little—because I already know I’ll be convicted. But I also know it will change me.

So here’s what I’m praying before I fall asleep tonight:

Jesus,
You never looked down on anyone—not the outcast, the adulterer, the rebel, the doubter, or even the ones who nailed You to the cross. You saw people, not projects. Souls, not labels.

Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve been quick to judge and slow to love. I confess that I’ve looked down on others to feel better about myself. Strip that pride from me. Break it. Replace it with compassion.

Holy Spirit, tomorrow, give me Your eyes. Let me see the barista, the coworker, the person I usually ignore—all through Your lens of eternal value. Let my words reflect the gentleness of Jesus. Let my heart be quick to forgive and slow to assume.

Help me carry Your presence, not just in my words, but in my eyes, in the way I see people.

Thank You for never looking down on me, even when I was at my lowest.
Thank You for always seeing the version of me I couldn’t see yet.

I love You more than anything, Jesus.
Amen.

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Tonight I feel both convicted and comforted. Like God is doing something small but permanent in my heart. I want to walk into tomorrow wide-eyed with grace, looking at every person as someone Jesus is madly in love with. Because they are.

And so am I.

He never looked down on me.
How could I look down on anyone else?

— A Daughter Learning to See Like Jesus

Divine Affection: The Holiness of God’s Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I don’t even know how to begin, except to say thank You. Thank You God for Your love.

Thank You God that Your love is not like human love—fleeting, conditional, broken—but that it is holy, steadfast, unshakable, and pure. I’ve been meditating all day on Isaiah 54:10:

“The mountains and the hills may crumble, but My love for you will never end…so says the LORD who loves you.” — Isaiah 54:10 (GNT)

That verse has wrapped around my heart like a blanket. Honestly, I needed it today. I’ve been feeling really stretched in some areas of my life—spiritually, emotionally, and even physically—and I found myself questioning some things. Not questioning You, Lord, but questioning if I’m walking right, if I’m missing something. Sometimes I wonder why things are so hard when I’m trying so hard to follow You.

But You reminded me today that Your love is holy love.

It’s not the kind of love that always feels soft or comfortable. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes it breaks before it builds. Sometimes it wounds before it heals. I’m slowly realizing that holy love doesn’t just comfort—it corrects. It doesn’t just protect—it purifies.

And I guess that’s what You’ve been doing in me lately: purifying. You’re removing idols I didn’t know I had. You’re calling out insecurities that I’ve buried under productivity. You’re showing me that surrender isn’t a one-time prayer but a daily sacrifice. And through all of it, I can feel Your holy love—strong, fierce, yet full of mercy.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” — Psalm 103:13-14 (NIV)

I love that verse so much. I cried when I read it earlier. Sometimes I think I have to be strong for You, like I need to show You how committed I am by pushing through on my own. But You know I’m dust. You’re not asking me to be strong—you’re asking me to be surrendered.

Even when You allow trials—especially when You do—You’re not being cruel. You’re being holy. Your love doesn’t overlook the cancer of sin in me. You fight it, even when I cling to it. And it hurts, Lord. It hurts when You pull things away that I once found identity or comfort in. But I trust You. I trust that Your discipline is not punishment—it’s love.

“The Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as his child.” — Hebrews 12:6 (NLT)

I read that and I just paused. I looked at my life and said, “Wow, God—you really must love me.” Because You haven’t let me go. Even when I drift. Even when I numb myself with distractions or withdraw because I’m tired. You keep pursuing me. And You keep pruning me.

I heard a sermon the other day that said: “Love that doesn’t confront sin isn’t love—it’s tolerance.” And I know now that You don’t tolerate me, You treasure me. And that’s why You won’t let sin take root in me. You are holy, and Your love is holy too. You love me too much to let me be less than who You created me to be.

And I’m beginning to see that trials are not punishment—they’re invitations. Invitations into deeper trust, deeper dependency, deeper intimacy with You.

“Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.” — Lamentations 3:32-33 (NIV)

That verse undoes me. You don’t delight in my pain. You’re not standing far off watching me struggle. You’re here. You’re near. You suffer with me. You are Emmanuel, God with me, even in the storm. Maybe especially in the storm.

It’s in the furnace that You refine. It’s in the fire that You reveal. It’s in the crushing that You produce oil. And I don’t want to resist the process anymore. I want to embrace it—even if I don’t understand it fully—because I know You. And I trust Your heart more than I fear the heat.

“The Lord binds up the bruises of his people and heals the wounds he inflicted.” — Isaiah 30:26 (NIV)

That is such a strange verse when I first think about it—You inflict wounds, yet You are also the one who heals them. But I get it now. You’re not causing pain for pain’s sake. You’re a surgeon, not a sadist. You wound to remove infection. You break to reset what was broken in the wrong way. You crush to restore.

Your love is fierce, Father. But it is good. It is not reckless—it is righteous. It is not wild—it is wise. It is not passive—it is powerful. It doesn’t leave me as I am, and for that, I am forever grateful.

I used to want a love that just made me feel safe. Now, I want a love that makes me holy.

“Real love seeks the well-being of the loved one. It warns to prevent more harm. It disciplines to create more growth.”

That’s You. That’s what You’ve been doing all along. And even though it’s been hard, I see the fruit. I see how You’re growing my patience, my humility, my prayer life. I see how You’ve used disappointments to draw me closer to You. I see how You’ve used closed doors to redirect me toward better ones. You’re not being cruel—you’re being kind.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” — James 1:17 (CSB)

You don’t change. Not with my moods, not with my mistakes, not with my questions. Your love stays constant when everything else shifts. Even when the world is loud and my own heart is confused, You remain. And Your love remains. And it’s holy. And it’s healing me.

A Prayer of Response:

Heavenly Father,

Thank You that Your love for me never ends. Thank You that it’s not based on my performance but on Your perfect nature. Thank You that when I fall short, You don’t walk away. Instead, You move closer. Thank You for the trials that lead me back to Your heart. Thank You for the pruning that prepares me for fruitfulness. Thank You that Your love confronts, corrects, and restores.

Lord, help me to trust You in the middle of refinement. When it hurts, remind me that You are near. When I’m tempted to believe that You are distant or angry, whisper again the truth that You are holy, and so is Your love. Help me to welcome Your discipline, knowing it is evidence that I am Your daughter.

Make me more like Jesus. Shape me with Your holy love. I surrender again tonight. Take everything that is not of You, and replace it with truth, with grace, and with fire.

And even if the mountains crumble, I will rest in the truth that Your love for me will never end.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Loving God with All Your Heart: What True Devotion Looks Like

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I feel both full and convicted. Full—because You’ve (GOD) been so present in my life lately. Convicted—because I realize there’s so much more of my heart I haven’t truly surrendered to You.

I keep coming back to this verse:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”
— Deuteronomy 6:5 (NIV)

All. That word has been echoing in my spirit lately. Not some of my heart. Not most of my soul. Not when it’s convenient. But all. Every part of who I am. Every moment. Every breath. Every hidden corner.

And if I’m honest with myself—painfully honest—I don’t know if I’ve really loved You with all my heart. I love You deeply, passionately, with a reverence that shapes my life. But I also know that sometimes I hold pieces of myself back. I cling to control, pride, comfort, and even fear.

This morning during my quiet time, I asked myself a tough question:
What does true devotion to God actually look like?

It’s not just going to church. It’s not just reading my Bible every morning. It’s not even just avoiding sin.

True devotion looks like love in action. It’s consistent surrender. It’s obedience even when it’s hard. It’s valuing Your voice over everyone else’s—even my own. It’s daily saying: Not my will, Lord, but Yours be done.

“If you love me, keep my commandments.”
— John 14:15 (KJV)

That verse wrecks me. Because it shows that love for You isn’t just emotional—it’s practical. Tangible. Expressed through obedience. You’re not asking me for a warm feeling. You’re asking for my life.

And I want to give it to You. Not just on the days I feel “spiritual,” but on the days I feel messy, distracted, or tired. Because You never asked for perfect—You asked for all.

Lord, teach me what it really means to love You with all my heart. I don’t want to be lukewarm. I don’t want to follow You halfway. I want to burn with devotion for You. I want my life to scream, “Jesus is worth everything.”

You showed me something today during my walk. As I passed this tree, I noticed how deeply its roots had grown into the ground. I felt You whisper, “That’s what I want your love to look like—deep, anchored, unshakable.”

I want roots like that. I don’t want to be the girl whose love withers in the heat of trial. I want to be found faithful, even when no one’s watching. Even when it costs me comfort or approval. Even when You’re asking me to do something I don’t understand.

That’s what loving You with all my heart looks like:
Loving You when I don’t feel You.
Loving You when prayers go unanswered.
Loving You when obedience is painful.
Loving You more than my own desires.

I think about Abraham and how he was willing to sacrifice Isaac. That’s what You call true devotion. That story always stretches me, but it also inspires me. Abraham trusted You so much, he was willing to give up the one thing he loved most. I want a heart like that.

“You shall have no other gods before me.”
— Exodus 20:3 (ESV)

No idols. Not relationships, not comfort, not success, not self. Nothing before You. That’s the challenge of true devotion—it requires an undivided heart. And some days, I realize how much work I still have to do.

Lord, search my heart. Tear down anything that competes with You. I don’t want to say I love You while secretly placing my trust in lesser things.

Right now, I want to offer You this simple, sincere prayer:

Father God,

You are worthy of my whole heart. Forgive me for the times I’ve given You only pieces of myself—when I’ve been half-hearted in worship, distracted in prayer, or hesitant in obedience.

Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a right spirit within me. Teach me to love You more deeply, more honestly, more fully. Help me to love You with all my heart, all my soul, all my strength—and not just in theory, but in how I live, speak, and choose each day.

Let my love for You be proven in the quiet places, not just the public ones. Make my heart soft to Your voice, and my feet quick to follow it.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Something I’ve learned lately is that love without discipline doesn’t go very far. That’s why I’ve been asking the Holy Spirit to help me build spiritual habits that reflect devotion—not obligation. It’s not about performing for You. It’s about being near You. Staying close.

So here’s what I’ve been working on:

  • Intentional time with You (not just checking a box)
  • Fasting distractions that pull my heart in different directions
  • Saying yes to uncomfortable obedience—like reaching out to someone I’d rather avoid
  • Choosing purity in how I talk, what I watch, and how I date
  • Praising You first—even before I ask for anything

None of these things earn Your love. But they flow from it. They’re the fruit of a heart that’s in love with You.

True devotion isn’t flashy. It’s steady. It’s showing up every day and saying, “Here I am, Lord. All of me. Again.”

“Blessed are those who keep His testimonies, who seek Him with the whole heart.”
— Psalm 119:2 (NKJV)

With my whole heart. That’s what I want, God. Not half. Not 80%. All.

I know I’ll fall short. I’ll have moments when I waver, when my heart gets pulled by shiny distractions or loud opinions. But even then, I pray You’ll pull me back. Redirect me. Remind me of the cross. Remind me of grace. Because the beautiful thing about loving You is that it’s not about perfection—it’s about pursuit.

And I’m pursuing You, Jesus. Day by day. Thought by thought. Step by step. I want to finish this life having poured it all out for You, with no regrets, no holding back.

So tonight, I’m making a quiet vow:
To love You not just with my words, but with my life.
To love You when no one else sees.
To love You with all my heart—even when it breaks.

Because You are worthy of all of me.

God’s Got This: Resting in His Faithfulness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

But You reminded me of something powerful today.

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

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s who You are, Lord.

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

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

Faith on Display: Is It Meant to Be Shared?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Last night I sat in the corner booth of a cute little mom and pop coffee shop with my Bible open, my journal beside me, and a peppermint tea in hand—just like every Wednesday pretty much. But something about last night felt… different. Not in a dramatic or supernatural way, just a subtle stirring in my spirit that I couldn’t ignore.

There was a girl sitting two tables down. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger. Alone. Earbuds in, but she wasn’t really focused on her phone. She glanced at my Bible more than once. Not judging—more like curious.

I felt this nudge in my spirit—one I’ve felt before and honestly, too often ignored.

“Say something. Smile. Ask her if she wants to talk or pray.”

But I didn’t.

I froze. I told myself, “Maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered,” or “She probably thinks I’m weird.” And then, like a coward, I packed up and left early.

God, I’m sorry. Truly.

I’ve been thinking about this question for weeks now: Is my faith meant to be shared? And the answer is always yes. A loud, resounding yes. But I still hesitate.

Why?

I guess I don’t want to come off as “that girl”—the one who forces faith into every conversation. But then again… why shouldn’t I be that girl if I truly believe this is life-saving truth?

Romans 1:16 says, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes.”

Am I ashamed? I don’t think so. But maybe I act like I am sometimes. That hurts to write out.

When I really sit with the thought, I think I’m more afraid of rejection than I am of disobedience. That’s heavy.

But Jesus never called us to comfort. He said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

Denying myself includes denying that fear. That worry about awkwardness. That instinct to self-protect.

I think about the early church—how they risked everything to share the gospel. Not just reputation, but their very lives. And me? I can’t even risk an awkward moment in a coffee shop?

Lord, forgive me for my silence.

I remember reading 1 Peter 3:15—“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” But it doesn’t stop there. It says to do this “with gentleness and respect.”

So maybe it’s not about being loud or invasive. It’s about being available. Present. Willing.

What would it look like if I made it a point to be more intentional? Not to push Jesus on people, but to present Him—in how I speak, how I love, how I show up in everyday moments?

Honestly, it’s easy to talk about Jesus when I’m with other Christians. At church, youth group, Bible study—we’re all speaking the same language. But outside those circles, I shrink. And that’s something I desperately want to change.

I don’t want a compartmentalized faith.

I want a faith that overflows. One that people can see and feel, even without a word—but especially with one.

Jesus said in Matthew 5:14-16:
“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden… let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

What good is a light if I’m constantly hiding it under the weight of my own insecurity?

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring out what it looks like to live a bold faith in a quiet, unassuming world. But I know this: I don’t want to live a life that keeps Jesus a secret.

So tonight, I’m praying this prayer.

A Prayer for Boldness and Compassion

Father,
You see every part of me—the parts that want to shout Your name from the rooftops, and the parts that whisper when I should speak boldly. I thank You that You’re patient with me. That You don’t condemn me for my hesitations, but gently invite me deeper.

Lord, give me courage. Not the kind the world gives, but the holy, Spirit-filled kind that can only come from You. The courage to speak when it’s uncomfortable. To offer a word, a smile, a prayer—even when I don’t know how it will be received.

Let me never be ashamed of the Gospel, because I know it’s the power of salvation. Remind me that sharing You isn’t about perfection or performance—it’s about love. Help me love people enough to risk my own pride.

And Lord, make me sensitive. Let me listen well. Let me follow Your nudges. Let me be a light—not a spotlight, not a floodlight—just a gentle, warm flame that points to You.

I surrender my fear, my image, my comfort. Use me, Lord. Not someday. Not when I feel ready. But now.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

So that’s where I was last night. A mix of conviction, hope, and longing. I don’t want to be silent anymore. My faith isn’t just mine—it’s a gift meant to be shared.

Next Wednesday, I’ll go back to that same coffee shop. Maybe she’ll be there again. Maybe she won’t. But either way, I’ll be ready this time.

And even if I’m not, God will be.

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd


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

Click Here to Watch How Disgraceful Gavin Newsom Really Is

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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