Tag: christianity

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.

Evil Los Angeles Rioters: 4 Prayers for America’s Police Officers

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I saw another clip today—more fires, more screaming, more broken glass and broken people. It’s all happening in Los Angeles again, and other cities too. I feel this awful weight in my chest, like I’m watching the heart of our country bleed out in slow motion. I just want to run somewhere quiet and safe, where the world isn’t upside down.

But most of all, I just keep thinking about the police officers—those men and women who go into the chaos every single day with a badge on their chest and targets on their backs. God, help them.

It feels like no one is praying for them anymore. Or maybe they are, but not loud enough. The world is shouting with so much anger that I wonder if our quiet prayers even get heard. But I have to believe they do. I have to.

Tonight, I prayed harder than I have in weeks. Not for myself, or even for peace in general—but specifically for every police officer in this country. The good ones. The tired ones. The scared ones. The brave ones. The ones who still show up even when they’re hated for just putting on the uniform.

I wrote down five prayers to keep in my Bible, and maybe I’ll print them and put them in my car or post them somewhere. Maybe someone else needs to pray them too.

Prayer 1: For Divine Protection
Dear Lord, please place Your heavenly protection around every police officer tonight. Whether they’re on duty in Los Angeles or in a quiet rural town, cover them with Your shield. Let no weapon formed against them prosper. Hold them close when they walk into danger, and guide their steps away from traps set by evil. Let them come home to their families safely. Please, Father, be their armor.

Prayer 2: For Peace in the Midst of Chaos
God, bring peace into the hearts of officers who are facing hostile crowds and terrifying situations. Let them feel Your presence in the noise. When bricks are thrown, when sirens scream, when their hands shake from adrenaline, remind them that they are never alone. Be their calm, their stillness in the storm. Let them breathe You in when everything around them feels like it’s falling apart.

Prayer 3: For Moral Strength and Discernment
Father, give officers the strength to do what is right even when it’s hard. Let them be just, wise, and merciful. Help them discern truth in a world full of lies and deception. May they reflect Your light in dark places, and make decisions with courage and integrity. Lord, we know not every officer is perfect, but help them strive to be righteous in every moment.

Prayer 4: For Their Families
Lord, please bless the families who say goodbye every morning not knowing if they’ll say hello again. Comfort the wives, husbands, parents, and children who wait by the door or the phone. Give them peace that surpasses understanding. Let them feel Your arms wrapped around them when anxiety creeps in. Protect not just the officers—but everyone who loves them.

Sometimes I feel silly writing things like this down, like maybe people would roll their eyes if they knew how much I care. But I do. I care so much it hurts. And I think part of that is because I’ve seen the other side. I’ve had friends in law enforcement. I’ve prayed with them, cried with them, and once even went to a funeral for one of them. He was only 30. Shot trying to help someone who was being robbed.

People don’t see that side. They see uniforms and headlines. They forget the tears. They forget that officers have hearts, that they go home and kiss their kids goodnight just like everyone else. And now, in this season of riots and rage, it feels like we’ve stopped listening. We’ve let hate be louder than hope.

But I won’t stop praying. Even if I’m the only one in my circle who does. Even if people think it’s old-fashioned or naive. I believe that prayer moves mountains. I believe that Jesus walks with our police officers, especially in the middle of the fire. And if no one else will say their names in prayer—I will.

So tonight, as my candles flicker and the wind blows outside, I lift every officer’s name up to heaven. The ones I know, and the ones I don’t. The ones who feel invisible. The ones who are barely holding on. The ones who still believe in protecting and serving, even when it costs everything.

Lord, hold them close. Don’t let go of them.

And maybe—just maybe—heal us too.

Jehovah-Jireh: Relax and Never Forget That God is Always in Control

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This was a very difficult post for me to write, although it may not seem like it while reading, but this is my 5th draft, and I’m still not sure if it’s as polished as I hoped it would be, but I started writing this a few weeks ago, and have decided to hit “PUBLISH”. I do hope it’s worthy of your eyes. God bless!

Please enjoy………

If you were to ask me which name of God means the most to me, I wouldn’t even hesitate. Without a doubt, it’s Jehovah-Jireh — “The Lord Will Provide.” It’s one of those names that has become deeply personal over the years. Not just a theological concept or something I read about once in a devotional, but a truth that I’ve had to cling to through real-life moments of fear, uncertainty, and waiting.

The first time this name shows up in Scripture is in Genesis 22, and honestly, every time I read that story, it hits a little different. It’s the one where God tells Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac — the very child God had promised him. Like, imagine that. You finally get the promise you’ve waited years and years for, and now God asks you to lay it on the altar? That’s intense.

So Abraham and Isaac climb up Mount Moriah. And somewhere along the way, Isaac notices something’s off. He looks around and goes, “Hey Dad, we’ve got the fire and the wood, but where’s the lamb for the burnt offering?” (Genesis 22:7). And Abraham, in what I imagine was a mix of steady faith and a trembling heart, answers, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”

Spoiler alert (but also Bible history): just as Abraham is about to sacrifice Isaac, God stops him. An angel of the Lord calls out to him, and Abraham looks up to see a ram caught in a nearby thicket. God had already placed that ram there — ahead of time, before Abraham or Isaac even started their climb. Abraham ends up naming that place Jehovah-Jireh, saying, “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided” (Genesis 22:14).

That phrase — Jehovah-Jireh — literally means “The Lord will provide,” but there’s something deeper in the original Hebrew. It carries the idea of seeing ahead of time. God doesn’t just provide in the moment; He sees your need before you even know you have one. He’s already made a way. He’s already put the ram in the thicket.

That gets me every time.

Because here’s the thing: life is hard. I’m 24, and while I’m still learning and growing (a lot!), I’ve already been through enough to know that life rarely goes according to plan. The economy is wild. Friendships change. Health scares show up out of nowhere. Doors close without warning. Sometimes it feels like everything is spinning, and I’m doing my best to hold it all together with coffee, prayer, and a halfway decent Spotify worship playlist.

But in the middle of all that chaos, I come back to Jehovah-Jireh. I come back to the God who provides — the God who sees me and knows what I need, even when I don’t know how to ask for it.

If I’m being honest, one of my biggest struggles is control. I like to have a plan. I like to know what’s next. I’m that girl with the color-coded planner, the backup plans, and the contingency ideas just in case things don’t go perfectly. Letting go and trusting in God does come naturally for me, but trusting in others does not. It’s like getting on an airplane and handing over control to a pilot I’ve never met. I have no idea what they’re doing, how they’re navigating, or what turbulence is coming — but I have to trust they’ll get me safely to my destination.

That’s what walking with God is like. He sees the storm clouds before we even feel the raindrops. He knows which paths are dangerous and which ones will grow us. And He knows exactly when to bring the ram into view.

I’ve had seasons where provision looked like a last-minute job offer I didn’t expect. Other times, it was a friend texting at just the right moment to pray with me. I’ve seen God provide financially when I didn’t know how I’d pay rent. I’ve seen Him provide peace that didn’t make sense and guidance when I felt totally lost.

Provision isn’t always flashy. Sometimes it’s quiet — a small shift in your heart, a whisper of hope, a sense that even though you don’t have the full answer yet, you’re not alone. Jehovah-Jireh shows up in the details, in the waiting, and even in the heartbreak.

We tend to think that provision always means getting what we want — the dream job, the healing, the breakthrough. But sometimes, God provides in the not yet. Sometimes, His provision is the strength to endure. The grace to wait well. The peace that doesn’t come from circumstances, but from knowing He’s near.

God is never surprised. Like, ever. Nothing catches Him off guard. That test result? He saw it coming. That sudden layoff? He already had a plan. That friendship that fell apart? He knows what it means, and He knows how to heal you. He’s not distant. He’s not panicking. He’s not playing catch-up.

He is Jehovah-Jireh.

So here’s what I’m learning to do (imperfectly, but intentionally): I’m learning to take my hands off the wheel. I’m learning to stop trying to run the show and instead, trust that God is already ahead of me. I don’t have to manipulate things into working out. I don’t have to stress myself sick trying to make sure everything goes perfectly. My job is obedience and trust. His job is provision and timing.

If you’re in a season where you don’t see the ram yet — where you’re climbing the mountain and you’re tired and confused and wondering what in the world God is doing — take heart. He’s not late. He hasn’t forgotten you. The thicket is closer than you think.

Maybe the provision won’t look like what you expected. Maybe it’ll stretch your faith and require more waiting than you planned for. But you can trust that God will provide. Because it’s not just what He does — it’s who He is.

So today, even if your world feels unstable and your heart feels heavy, remember the God of Abraham. Remember the God who sees in advance. Remember Jehovah-Jireh.

And take a deep breath — He’s already gone ahead of you.

Beyond the Offense: Walking in Grace Every Day

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve been thinking a lot about grace — not just the kind God gives me (which is endless and overwhelming), but the kind I struggle to give others.

It hit me today while I was standing in line at the grocery store. The cashier was moving slowly, visibly flustered, and my first reaction was frustration. My thoughts weren’t kind. I didn’t say anything harsh out loud, but inside… I was not gracious. And I’ve been carrying that moment around with me all day. Not because it was huge, but because it revealed something in me.

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I want to be someone who extends grace. But if I’m honest, I’m quick to criticize and slow to encourage. I spot flaws faster than I celebrate growth in others.

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” – Ephesians 4:32 (NIV)

This verse has been tugging at my heart all week. God has shown me so much mercy — and I didn’t earn a bit of it. So why is it so hard for me to pass it on? Why do I expect people to be perfect, when I know I’m not?

Prayer 1:


Jesus, help me reflect You. Not just in what I say I believe, but in how I treat people. Make me someone who notices the good, who gives the benefit of the doubt, who’s patient with others the way You’re endlessly patient with me.

I’ve especially noticed how easy it is to be hard on the people closest to me. I snap at my siblings when they annoy me. I judge my friends for choices I don’t agree with. I get irritated when my parents repeat themselves or when my coworker is late — again. And yet, God doesn’t deal with me like that.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.” – Psalm 103:8 (NIV)

I read that and think: How can I possibly mirror that kind of love? But then I remember — it’s not something I can manufacture on my own. It’s the Holy Spirit in me. Without Him, I’m just stuck in my old ways.

Prayer 2:
Holy Spirit, please shape me. Soften the parts of me that are harsh, impatient, and critical. Create in me a heart that is gentle and gracious. I want to grow, even if it means being uncomfortable.

I know I’m not alone in this. Our whole culture encourages us to “speak our truth,” to be brutally honest, to point out what’s wrong in everyone else. But I’m starting to see that sometimes the bravest thing is to hold back criticism, and instead speak words that build others up.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up, according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” – Ephesians 4:29 (NIV)

I feel convicted reading that. How often do my words actually build others up? Not as often as they should. I gossip sometimes, even if I call it venting. I speak in sarcasm and call it humor. I critique my church instead of praying for it. I highlight what’s lacking instead of celebrating what God is doing.

Prayer 3:
Father, forgive me for using my words carelessly. Help me be someone who speaks life, who encourages more than critiques. Let my mouth be an instrument of grace — not just with friends, but even with strangers.

What’s crazy is that I know grace works. I’ve experienced it. There have been times when I’ve failed, and instead of condemnation, I received love and understanding. Those moments changed me more than any lecture ever could.

So why don’t I lead with grace more often? Maybe it’s pride. Maybe I think people should know better. But then I think of Jesus — how He washed feet, how He forgave from the cross, how He invited sinners to eat with Him.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8 (NIV)

He didn’t wait for us to clean up. He loved us right where we were. That humbles me. Because I don’t deserve that kind of love — and yet, I’ve received it every single day.

Prayer 4:
Jesus, make me more like You. Help me stop measuring others by standards I can’t even meet myself. Fill me with compassion. Let Your grace flow through me — not just to me.

I think one of the hardest things is learning to forgive people who don’t apologize, or who don’t even realize they hurt me. But I’ve learned that holding onto offense doesn’t protect me — it poisons me. Grace, on the other hand, frees me.

“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” – Colossians 3:13 (NIV)

That’s the standard. Forgive as the Lord forgave me. And how did He forgive me? Fully. Freely. Forever.

Prayer 5:
Lord, give me the strength to forgive when it’s hard. When people don’t say sorry. When they don’t change. When I’m tempted to hold a grudge. I want to live light and free — not weighed down by bitterness.

Tonight, as I sit with all of this, I feel a holy discomfort. God is stretching me. But it’s not out of guilt — it’s out of love. He’s inviting me into a new way of living. A way marked by grace. Not just receiving it, but extending it.

So tomorrow, I want to try again. I want to be slower to speak and quicker to understand. I want to catch myself before I criticize. I want to look for the good. And when I mess up — because I will — I’ll lean into His grace once again.

He’s not asking me to be perfect. He’s asking me to be surrendered.

Parenthood, Not Gay Pride: Children Deserve a Mom and Dad

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’m so mad I can barely think straight. I don’t even want to write right now, but I feel like I have to. If I don’t pour this out to God, I might explode.

Everywhere I turn — social media, news, even some churches — they’re pushing this idea that any kind of family is okay. That love is love. That it doesn’t matter if a child has a mom and a dad, or two dads, or two moms, or who even knows what else. And I know I’m supposed to be kind and tolerant, but when I see God’s design being flipped upside down, it stirs something in me that I can’t ignore.

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I feel alone sometimes in what I believe. Like if I open my mouth and say what’s on my heart, I’ll be labeled a bigot or hateful. But I’m not hateful. I care. That’s why it makes me so angry — because kids are being robbed of something sacred. They need both a mother and a father. That’s how God made it.

“So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” – Genesis 1:27 (NKJV)

I believe this down to my bones. God made man and woman on purpose. It wasn’t random. It was intentional. Masculinity and femininity reflect different aspects of God’s character. And a child raised by both a mom and a dad gets the chance to learn from both — to be nurtured and challenged, comforted and protected. That balance matters.

—

Lord, I’m angry right now. But underneath that anger is grief. I feel like the world is calling evil good and good evil. Please help me respond with both truth and grace. Give me boldness, but also wisdom. Don’t let my frustration become sin. Help me speak Your truth in love.

—

Today I saw a video of two men adopting a baby. The comments were full of applause — people calling them brave, calling it beautiful. I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. Not because I hate them — I don’t. I actually feel sad for them. But also sad for the baby. That child will never know the warmth of a mother’s embrace. And we’re supposed to just smile and say “love is love”? I can’t.

“Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness…” – Isaiah 5:20

I want to scream. I want to ask people — don’t you see what’s happening? This isn’t just about opinions. This is about children’s lives. This is about foundational truths. This is about God’s order being traded in for chaos.

But when I speak up, I get told I’m judgmental. That Jesus would accept everyone. And yes, He did welcome everyone, but He also told them to go and sin no more. He never compromised truth just to keep the peace.

—

Jesus, help me love like You. You never backed down from truth, and You never stopped loving. That’s the kind of boldness I want — one rooted in Your Spirit. I don’t want to be self-righteous, but I also refuse to go silent. Give me courage to speak when it’s uncomfortable. Help me stand for children and for Your design, even if the world hates me for it.

—

I don’t hate gay people. I don’t wish them harm. But I’m tired of being forced to say that their version of family is equal to what God created. It’s not. I won’t pretend that it is. Not because I’m mean — but because I believe God’s way is best.

“Have you not read that He who made them at the beginning ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife’?” – Matthew 19:4-5

Jesus said that. Not Paul, not Moses — Jesus. That’s all the confirmation I need. Marriage is between a man and a woman. And children deserve to grow up under that covenant, not some modern substitute.

—

God, I confess that I’ve been afraid to talk about this. I don’t want to lose friends. I don’t want to be mocked or misunderstood. But I also don’t want to betray You by going silent. Please give me strength. Let my convictions come from Your Word, not my emotions. And let my emotions be sanctified by truth.

—

I think part of my anger comes from fear, if I’m honest. I wonder what kind of world I’ll raise my future children in. Will they be taught that biology doesn’t matter? That two dads are the same as a mom and a dad? That feelings define reality?

It terrifies me. I don’t want my kids growing up in a world that erases God’s fingerprints from creation.

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” – Proverbs 22:6

But how can we train children in the way of the Lord if we’re teaching them lies from the start? That their mother is optional? That their father is replaceable? God help us.

—

Father, protect the next generation. Raise up moms and dads who will fight for their families, who will model Your love, who won’t compromise. And for those children who grow up without both parents, bring healing. Be their Father. Be their hope. But let us never stop upholding Your design, even when culture tries to rewrite it.

—

I cried earlier. Just sat in my car and cried because I feel so heavy with this. I don’t want to be angry. I want to be hopeful. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10

That’s what keeps me going. Jesus came to restore what was broken. That includes families. That includes our culture. That includes me.

—

Jesus, bring revival. Let truth rise up again in this land. Let churches stop watering down Your Word just to avoid controversy. Let us not be ashamed of the gospel — not in our homes, not in public, not anywhere. Help me love fiercely, but also stand firmly. You are truth, and I won’t trade You for comfort.

—

I’m still angry. But I think now I’m also a little more grounded. I needed this time with God. I needed to write this all down — the fire, the fear, the frustration. I may be 24, but I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime already trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t want truth.

But I still believe. I still trust His plan. And I will not stay silent.

When Doing Good Gets Hard

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

The world feels so far from God, so blind to truth. It’s like I’m watching everything I once believed to be sacred get mocked, twisted, and cast aside. Morality is now “hate,” and sin is celebrated as “love.” Sometimes I feel like I’m screaming into the void, trying to shine light in a world that only wants darkness.

I walked downtown today to grab a coffee and journal a bit, hoping I could clear my head and maybe find some peace in nature. But the streets were filled with rainbow flags again. I get it—people feel empowered, seen, heard. But it breaks my heart to see how normalized sin has become. It’s everywhere: on billboards, TV shows, clothing lines, even kids’ cartoons. And no one blinks anymore. What’s wrong is right, and what’s right is “intolerant.” I can’t understand how we’ve fallen this far.

Scripture 1:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness.” – Isaiah 5:20

Lord, is this not exactly what we’re living through?

Prayer 1:
God, I feel like I’m drowning in a world that has forgotten You. Please strengthen my heart. Let me not grow bitter or cold, but filled with Your truth and compassion. Help me to keep standing in Your Word, even when the world calls me hateful. You know my heart, Lord. Keep it pure.

I saw a group of young women my age laughing and taking selfies with signs promoting abortion “rights.” They looked so proud—so confident. I had to look away. The idea of ending life and calling it “freedom” makes me sick. I don’t hate them, Lord. I truly don’t. But I mourn for the babies, and I mourn for the lies these women have been fed. They’ve been told they’re empowered, but they’re only being led deeper into darkness.

Scripture 2:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.” – Jeremiah 1:5

Each baby is a soul, a creation of God. How have we come to treat life like a burden instead of a blessing?

Prayer 2:
Father, my heart is broken for the unborn. For every child whose voice was never heard, who never saw sunlight or felt a mother’s embrace. Have mercy on us, Lord. Have mercy on this generation. Open our eyes to the value of life, and help me be a voice of love, not condemnation.

I feel like I’m constantly walking this tightrope—how do I speak truth without sounding cruel? How do I love like Jesus when my beliefs are seen as outdated and oppressive?

Even at church, I feel a shift. Some pastors are watering down the gospel to keep people comfortable. I understand wanting to reach people, but not at the expense of truth. Jesus was never afraid to speak hard truths. He flipped tables. He called sin what it was. But He also loved fiercely. I want to be like that. I have to be like that.

Scripture 3:

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind…” – Romans 12:2

Even if the whole world shifts, I won’t. I can’t.

Prayer 3:
Jesus, help me not to conform. Even when I feel alone, remind me that You were hated too. You stood for truth and love in perfect harmony. Give me boldness to do the same. Let my life reflect You—even if I lose friends, status, or comfort along the way.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a different time—a time when Christian values were the norm and not the exception. But maybe I’m here for a reason. Maybe God placed me in this moment, in this broken world, for a purpose. Maybe I was born for such a time as this.

Scripture 4:

“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” – Esther 4:14

I don’t feel royal most days. I feel weak and small and tired. But God uses the weak. He always has.

Prayer 4:
Lord, if You can use someone like Esther, You can use me. Let me be a light in this darkness. Let me be salt in a tasteless world. And when I feel like giving up, hold me tighter. You are my strength when I have none.

I think what hurts most is that many people think I’m hateful just because I believe in biblical truth. But my heart aches for this generation. I want people to know they were made for more. That sex isn’t love. That pleasure isn’t purpose. That there is a better way—and His name is Jesus.

I know I’m not perfect. I have my own sins, my own struggles. But I’m forgiven, redeemed, and called to live differently.

Scripture 5:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.” – Matthew 5:14

I may be small, but I’m not invisible. I can shine. Even if the world doesn’t like it.

Prayer 5:
Jesus, let me be that city on a hill. Let my light shine—not so people see me, but so they see You. Give me courage to speak when I’m scared, to love when I’m angry, to stand when it would be easier to sit down. Help me never give up on Your truth, no matter what the world says.

Tonight, I’m ending this day with both tears and hope.

I know the road ahead won’t be easy. The darkness will keep getting louder. But so will my light. I wasn’t called to be comfortable—I was called to be faithful.

So I’ll keep sharing the gospel. I’ll keep praying for hearts to change. I’ll keep leading by example—quietly, boldly, consistently. Even if it costs me everything.

Jesus gave everything for me.

I can’t give Him any less.

– Amen.

God, Why Am I Always at War?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’m so exhausted, Lord. So spiritually tired. I’m angry—not just annoyed, not just inconvenienced—angry. Raging. I feel like I’m walking through life with a bullseye on my back and every demon in hell has permission to aim. Why? Because I belong to You? Because I chose Jesus over comfort? Then where’s the peace You promised?

“Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” – Ephesians 6:17

I read that verse today like it’s supposed to be some magical defense, but if I’m being completely honest, it just made me more frustrated. What the heck is the helmet of salvation supposed to do when my mind feels like a warzone? I feel like I’m drowning in lies, constantly second-guessing if I’m even saved at all. Isn’t the helmet supposed to protect my thoughts?

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Prayer #1:
God, I need You to quiet the noise. Put Your hands over my ears and silence the voices that tell me I’m worthless, faithless, hopeless. Remind me what salvation actually means—because right now, it just feels like another label I don’t live up to.

I’m tired of people preaching like we’re not supposed to struggle with doubt. Like salvation is a one-time prayer and poof, we’re bulletproof. No one talks about the days where you cry yourself to sleep asking God if He still loves you. No one admits that they sometimes wonder if they’re too broken for grace.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” – 2 Timothy 1:7

Then why is my mind so noisy? Why do I feel like I’m stuck in a blender of thoughts that I can’t shut off? If salvation is supposed to protect my mind, how come I still wake up feeling anxious, confused, like I’m failing as a Christian?

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Prayer #2:
Jesus, help me believe that You didn’t save me to abandon me. Help me trust that even in my doubt, You’re still holding me. I want to believe You’re still proud of me, even when I’m a mess.

Today at church, the pastor said the helmet of salvation guards our identity in Christ. I rolled my eyes. If it really did, why is it the first thing that gets attacked? My identity in You feels like it’s under constant assault. One day I believe I’m a child of God, the next day I feel like a fraud. I’m sick of this rollercoaster.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” – Romans 8:1

Then why do I feel condemned all the time? I make one mistake and it’s like my brain goes into full panic mode—“You’re not really saved, are you? Real Christians don’t mess up like that.” I hate how easily I forget grace. I hate how quickly I believe the worst about myself.

Prayer #3:
Lord, cover my mind. Not with Pinterest quotes or cute Instagram theology—but with truth. Remind me who I am. Remind me that salvation isn’t about my perfection, but Your persistence. Thank You for chasing me even when I don’t feel worth chasing.

I think I’ve misunderstood the helmet. I thought it was supposed to stop the attacks from coming. But maybe it’s not about that. Maybe it’s about protection in the fight, not from it.

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” – Isaiah 26:3

Peace feels like a fairy tale some days. I don’t even know what “perfect peace” looks like. But I want to. God, I want to trust You enough that my thoughts stop spiraling every time something goes wrong. I want a mind that’s steadfast, not scattered.

It’s just… hard. So freaking hard. The people around me think I’m strong because I quote scripture and lead Bible study and show up with a smile. But inside I feel like I’m barely holding on. Nobody sees the nights I scream into my pillow, asking You where You are.

Prayer #4:
God, give me the kind of faith that holds when everything is falling apart. Not the “churchy” kind, but the raw, real kind that fights for truth when everything inside me feels like it’s lying.

I think I finally get what the helmet of salvation really is—it’s not something I put on to look holy. It’s not about appearances. It’s about remembrance. It’s a helmet because I’m in battle. It’s salvation because that’s my anchor. It protects my mind from forgetting who I am and whose I am.

“The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.” – Psalm 28:7

I don’t feel strong. I feel like glass. But maybe You’re strong in me. Maybe the helmet doesn’t stop the blows, but it keeps them from cracking my skull open. Maybe salvation doesn’t mean I don’t fall—but it means I never fall alone.

Prayer #5:
God, help me to remember that You’ve already won. Even when I feel like I’m losing. Even when my thoughts are chaos and my heart is heavy. Teach me to wear this helmet every day—to cling to the truth that I’m Yours, even when I don’t feel like it.

So yeah, I’m still angry. I’m angry that being saved doesn’t mean being safe from pain. I’m angry that the mind You gave me is also the battlefield the enemy uses the most. But I’m also starting to understand that my anger doesn’t scare You. You already knew this walk wouldn’t be easy. That’s why You gave me armor.

So tomorrow, I’ll wake up, and I’ll put on the helmet of salvation—not as some shiny religious badge, but as a reminder:
I’m still here.
I’m still His.
And I’m still fighting.

Because my mind may be a battlefield—but my Savior is a warrior.

And He doesn’t lose.

Somewhere between heartbreak and holy fire

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’m writing this with my jaw clenched and tears just sitting there—right at the edge. Not sad tears. Angry tears. Tired tears. This world is so lost, and no one even cares. They laugh at God. They mock His name. They sin boldly like they’re invincible—and they’re proud of it.

I’m only 24, but I feel 100. I see people partying through their pain, “manifesting” instead of praying, worshiping crystals instead of Christ, and saying “universe” when they mean “God”—but they don’t want Him. Not really. They want the blessings, the safety, the peace—but not the Lord of Hosts who brings them.

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And honestly? I’m furious.

“The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’ They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds; there is none who does good.” — Psalm 14:1

Lord, are You watching this?
Prayer 1: God, I’m begging You—burn away this apathy. Wreck the fake peace these people have. Tear through the arrogance with Your truth. Let the weight of eternity settle on them like thunder. They think it’s a joke. They think they’re safe. They are not safe.

I scroll through social media and see influencers joking about going to hell—like it’s some kind of edgy club. Do they even know what they’re saying? Do they know what hell really is? The torment? The eternal separation from You, the absence of light, of love, of hope? Do they realize they’re laughing about eternal damnation?

“And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.” — Revelation 20:15

Prayer 2: God, don’t let them die like this. Please. Don’t let them die thinking You were a myth. Wake them up. Do whatever it takes—rip their idols out of their hands if You have to. Wreck their comfort zones. Don’t let them stay blind.

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I talk to people I love—friends I grew up with, who used to come to church with me. Now they say “Christianity is toxic” and “God is oppressive.” No, what’s toxic is this world convincing people they can live without the One who created breath. What’s oppressive is sin—chaining people, calling it freedom.

Hell isn’t unfair. It’s not cruel. What’s cruel is knowing the truth and staying silent while people walk into it.

“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.” — Matthew 7:13

Prayer 3: Jesus, I need to know You’re still breaking hearts open. That You’re still drawing the lost. Because I feel like I’m screaming into the void and no one hears me. Everyone thinks they’re “spiritual” now. But without You, it’s all empty. Dead. Demonic, even.

Some days, I want to shake people. Scream in their faces. “Wake up! You’re not just ‘going through a phase.’ You’re playing chicken with eternity. You think you have time—but you don’t.” I wish I could show them even one second of what hell looks like. The regret. The finality. The burning knowledge that they rejected grace.

“They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might.” — 2 Thessalonians 1:9

Prayer 4: Father, help me carry this. Help me not to let my anger become pride. You love them more than I ever could. You died for them, even while they mocked You. Make me bold without being bitter. Help me to speak truth with fire and compassion.

I know I sound harsh. Maybe I am. But it’s because I know what’s coming. I know eternity is real. Heaven isn’t a fairy tale. Hell isn’t a metaphor. It’s not some literary device—it’s God’s wrath, forever. And people I love are headed there because they want to be their own gods.

I know I can’t save anyone. Only You can. But I refuse to act like it’s not urgent. I refuse to be lukewarm. I’d rather be hated for speaking truth than be popular for staying silent.

“Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.” — John 3:36

Prayer 5: Lord, use me as a warning if You must. Let my life shout Your name. Let my words carry eternity. I don’t care if they call me a fanatic, or a freak. I care that they know You. I care that they don’t burn.

There’s this lie going around that a “loving God would never send people to hell.” But they forget: He gave us a way out. He sent His Son. He bled for us. If we choose to reject that—what else is left? Hell isn’t a contradiction of His love—it’s the consequence of refusing it.

I’m writing this because I feel like I’m suffocating. Everyone’s so numb. So casual. And I’m sitting here with fire in my bones and no one wants to hear it. But I’ll keep saying it. I’ll keep praying. Even when I’m exhausted. Even when I’m alone.

Because eternity is coming, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.

Amen.