Tag: daily devotion

Sacred Echo: Listening to Heaven’s Heartbeat

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I went to bed last night asking God to show me more of His heart. I know I say I want to know Him more, but how often do I really press in for His sake, not just for what He can do for me?

This morning, while journaling, I wrote:


“God, I want to know You—not just know about You. I want to understand what breaks Your heart and what makes You smile.”

It hit me hard: I say I love Him, but how often do I actually seek to understand Him, not just myself through Him?

Most people walk around so desperate to be seen, known, and loved. I get it. I’ve been there. I still have those days. But then I remember—this ache to be known is actually something we inherited from God Himself.

Genesis 1:27 reminds me, “So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.”

If I bear His image, then it makes sense that the ache in me to be known is actually a glimpse into how God longs to be known.
I’m created with that desire because He has it first.

Sometimes I look around at Christians and ponder… how are we so satisfied with just Sunday morning services, small groups, and bumper-sticker theology?

We memorize verses like Isaiah 55:9—“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts”—and then use that as an excuse to not even try to know God’s heart.

But that’s lazy. And let’s be honest, it’s prideful. Because we want a god that fits in a sermon series or a devotional plan. But the real God? He’s infinite. And if we don’t dig deeper, we’ll stay infants in our faith, knowing about Him but never knowing Him.

I’ve been praying over Jeremiah 29:13 lately.
“You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me with all your heart.”

It doesn’t say, “when you scroll Christian TikTok for an hour” or “when you listen to worship music passively.” It says, “with all your heart.”

ALL. Not a part. Not when it’s convenient.
That one verse alone has been wrecking me.

So today I turned off my phone. Sat with my Bible. Prayed in honesty. Not performance. Not pretty words. Just raw. Just real. Just me.

I told God, “I want to know Your heart. I want to know what makes You weep and what makes You rejoice. I want to love what You love and hate what You hate—even when it costs me popularity, even when it separates me from shallow Christianity.”

And He met me. Not in thunder or lightning. Just in quiet. In peace.

I read about Jesus weeping at Lazarus’ tomb—not because He was powerless, but because He feels deeply. He didn’t rush past the pain. He sat in it. That’s the heart of God.

I read about the woman at the well. About Peter’s restoration. About God’s justice in the prophets. About His mercy in the Psalms.

And slowly, I started to feel like I wasn’t just reading about God—I was sitting with Him. Like a friend. Like someone worth knowing deeply.

If we want to know God’s heart, we have to move past religion and step into relationship.

Yes, God is holy. Yes, His thoughts are higher. But He’s also Emmanuel. God with us. He stepped down to make Himself knowable. Jesus came not just to save us, but to show us what the Father is like.

John 14:9—“Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father.”

So if I want to know the heart of God, I need to look at Jesus. His compassion. His fire. His correction. His mercy. His truth.

And if I’m not willing to carry all of that—not just the feel-good parts—then do I really want to know Him? Or do I just want a version of Him that fits my comfort?

Tonight, I’m ending with a prayer:

Father, reveal Your heart to me. Not the filtered version. Not the Instagram caption version. I want the real You. The One who weeps over sin, who rejoices in truth, who loves with fire in His eyes and scars in His hands. Teach me to walk with You, not ahead or behind, but right beside You. I don’t just want Your blessings. I want Your heart. I want to be a woman who makes Heaven smile. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

God’s Guardrails Are Not Just a List: How the 10 Commandments Keep Me Grounded

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

More than ever before I feel God’s presence like a warm light wrapping around my soul—just comforting enough to remind me I’m not alone. I’ve been thinking deeply about something a new friend said at small group over the weekend: “God’s guardrails are more than just a list.” How true that is! The Ten Commandments—they’re not rules meant to chain me; they’re loving boundaries from a Father who wants the best for me.

When I first encountered the Ten Commandments as a kid, I thought of them as a little pile of “thou shalt nots,” like rules that threatened punishment if broken. But over the last few years—especially now at 24—I’m discovering they’re liberating guardrails. Ironically, these boundaries don’t limit me; they protect me. They keep me grounded in truth, love, and purpose.

📖 “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” —2 Timothy 1:7. This tells me He didn’t give those commandments to scare me. He gave them so I could walk in confidence, rooted in His love, free from fear of “messing up.”

💕 Commandment by Commandment: How They Guide Me

  1. “You shall have no other gods before me.”
    — It’s a daily reminder that when I idolize my career ambitions, relationships, or even comfort, I’m drifting away from Him. I pray: “Lord, You alone are worthy of my highest devotion. Teach me to keep You at the center.”
  2. “You shall not make for yourself a carved image…”
    — In this age of comparison on Instagram and TikTok, it’s easy to idolize trends, aesthetic, or image. I whisper: “Help me focus on who I am in You, not what I look like to others.”
  3. “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.”
    — I catch myself sometimes saying God’s name in frustration. I repent: “Father, forgive my careless words. Let my tongue speak life and honor.”
  4. “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”
    — Oh, how I struggle with rest! My heart races at the thought of doing nothing. But Sabbath reminds me that rest is holy and necessary. “God, grant me peace in stillness and remind me You are enough.”
  5. “Honor your father and your mother.”
    — This one has softened me. My parents have taught me so much about faith and grace. I pray: “Thank You for them. Help me honor them in word, deed, and heart.”
  6. “You shall not murder.”
    — It’s about more than physical harm—it’s about words. I’ve let frustration boil into bitterness. “Lord, guard my heart and my words; let me speak life, forgiveness, and grace.”
  7. “You shall not commit adultery.”
    — My future spouse deserves holiness. I guard my eyes, my thoughts, my purity—heart, mind, and body. “Keep my mind pure and my heart faithful, Lord.”
  8. “You shall not steal.”
    — It’s more than property—what about time, attention, honor? Do I “steal” someone’s right to feel seen? “Give me a generous heart, not a selfish one.”
  9. “You shall not bear false witness.”
    — Gossip is insidious. “Help me speak truth in love and defend those who can’t defend themselves.”
  10. “You shall not covet.”
    — That ache in my chest when I scroll and feel less-than? That’s covetousness. “Lord, cultivate contentment in me. Teach me to delight in Your provision.”

🌺 Guardrails or Gateways?

This morning, I was running late and my heart thundered in my chest—fear, worry, frustration. My to-do list rolled on. And then I caught the whisper: “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10). In that moment I realized, the guardrails aren’t barriers; they’re gateways. The guardrails offer a route back to Him when I’ve drifted into chaos. They invite me into shelter.

When I honor the Sabbath, I actually find joy in rest. When I guard my speech, I build up others. These commandments protect me from self-destruction and evil influences.

🙏 Prayer of the Heart

Heavenly Father,
I thank You that You are not distant or cold. You are a loving Father who set these commandments to guide my heart, not condemn it. When I was younger, I saw them as burdens. Now, I’m seeing them through the lens of redemption and transformation. Please:

  • Root me in Your love and not in fear.
  • Illuminate the times I drift without realizing it.
  • Guard my heart from idols—money, approval, even my own agenda.
  • Help me offer rest to my soul and mercy to others.
  • Shape my speech to be truth-laden and life-giving.
  • Give me contentment so covetousness has no foothold.

Thank You that Jesus fulfilled the law and that in Him, I don’t walk in condemnation. Instead, I walk in grace. When I fail, I remember “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us…” (1 John 1:9).

✨ Real-Life Glimmers

This week, I saw the power of the commandments in real life.

  • At work, when gossip bubbled up, I chose to change the subject. My coworker thanked me later—it felt like a mini-mission moment.
  • In a friendship, I offered a listening ear rather than advice. Took the commandment against taking from someone else’s time personally.
  • Internally, I noticed less comparison when I devoted ten minutes of prayer each morning. It’s subtle, but oh, so sweet.

It’s like each commandment is a little lamp lighting my path. They’re not legal chains—they’re kind directions that help me walk with clarity.

💞 My Prayer for You

If you’re reading this and wondering, “Do I really need these ancient rules?” I’d say yes—because they’re not ancient limits, but divine love letters. In a world that tells us to define our own truths, the commandments are like a Compass pointing us back to our Creator.

I pray that you find freedom in each guardrail:

  • Let the first two commandments remind you who you are in Christ and who God is—evoking awe, worship, and alignment.
  • Let the middle commandments shape your rhythms: rest in Him and honor family.
  • Let the last ones guide your ethics: how you speak, act, love, desire.

💌 Nighttime Prayer

Lord Jesus, You are the fulfillment of the law. At night, when the world quiets down, You whisper rest to my soul. Help me to rest not from work but in You. Remind me that I am not defined by my performance or perfection. You see me, You love me—even when I fall short. Thank You for sending Your Spirit to convict, guide, and empower me. May I live tomorrow tethered to Your truth. No cultural trend, no fear, no strife can unmoor me when You are my anchor.

“The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun‑scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well‑watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” —Isaiah 58:11

With all that I am and all that I will become, I place my trust in You. I want Your commandments to be written on my heart (Jeremiah 31:33), not out of obligation, but out of love.

Amen.

🌙 Final Thought

As a 24-year-old who stumbles, dreams, hopes, and seeks, the Ten Commandments aren’t obsolete—they’re so relevant. They guard the digital spaces where I dwell, the relationships I treasure, and the dreams I chase. They’re not just a list—they’re a lifeline.

So tonight, I tuck into bed, whispering, “Goodnight, Lord. Thank You for Your guardrails. Keep me grounded—and free—in You.” And I rest with that sweet sense of being deeply, truly, unconditionally loved.

Cling to the Cross: How to Keep Yourself in God’s Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

For a while now, at least since Spring I’d honestly say, my heart has been heavy, but not with sorrow—more like reverence. A deep, weighty awareness of how fragile my love can be compared to Yours (God’s). I’ve been sitting with Jude 21 all week:

“Keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.” – Jude 21 (NIV)

That verse doesn’t let me off the hook. It commands me. It tells me that remaining in Your love isn’t automatic—it’s intentional. And that convicts me.

Because, God… how many times have I allowed distractions, fears, or even just apathy to distance me from You? How many times have I let my emotions steer me away from Your presence instead of clinging to the cross like it’s my lifeline—which it is?

I sat in my car earlier after running errands, and I just started crying. Not out of sadness, really, but out of this mix of longing and guilt. I want to stay in Your love, but some days I don’t even know what that really looks like. And yet—Your voice, gentle and steady, reminded me: Cling to the cross.

Not just in the hard moments. Not just on Sundays. But every single day.

When I woke up this morning, I prayed out of routine. But by the time I got to mid-afternoon, I had already snapped at someone, scrolled mindlessly through my phone, and barely acknowledged You in the middle of my thoughts. And then tonight, You bring me back again—to Your Word, to Your presence, to Your mercy. You always bring me back.

“Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.” – John 15:4 (NIV)

You are the Vine. The source of love, strength, and truth. I’m just a branch. I dry out so quickly when I’m not connected to You. I think that’s why Jude tells us to keep ourselves in Your love. Because the world pulls hard. Our flesh pulls even harder. And the only way to stay in Your love is to choose it daily—to choose You daily.

Jesus, I don’t want to just visit Your love when life falls apart. I want to live there. Dwell there. Make it the home my heart always returns to. I want to cling to the cross—not out of desperation, but out of love and dependence.

I thought about what clinging to the cross really means, and I think it starts with remembering. Remembering what You did for me. Not just in a distant, “Sunday-school” way, but really reflecting on it. You gave everything. You suffered shame, pain, rejection—all for me. You didn’t hold back. How could I?

Lord, help me not to treat Your sacrifice like a safety net I only fall into. Help me treat it like the center of my life—the reason I do what I do, the lens I see everything through. When I’m tempted to wander, bring me back to Calvary. When I doubt, show me Your hands. When I feel unworthy, let me hear Your voice again: It is finished.

I guess what I’m realizing is that clinging to the cross looks a lot like choosing You in the smallest moments. Like…

  • Opening my Bible instead of opening a complaining text.
  • Choosing prayer over worry.
  • Forgiving when I want to sulk.
  • Turning off the noise and just sitting in silence with You.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” – Hebrews 10:23 (ESV)

You are so faithful, Lord. Even when I’m not. Even when I wander. Even when I forget. And that faithfulness pulls me back into Your love every single time. It’s not a love I earned—it’s a love You gave. Freely.

Tonight, I wrote this simple prayer in my journal and I want to pray it out loud now:

Father God,

Thank You for the cross. Thank You that Your love was poured out in blood, not just in words. Remind me daily that Your love is not distant—it’s present. It’s active. It’s sacrificial.

Lord, help me to keep myself in that love. Teach me how to cling tightly when the world distracts and the enemy lies. Strengthen my heart to obey, to abide, and to remember that no matter what’s happening around me, Your love is constant.

When I feel cold or distant, draw me near again. Let my soul be tethered to Your cross—never wandering too far, never forgetting the cost of grace.

In Jesus’ holy name,
Amen.

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You know, I used to think “keeping myself in God’s love” meant being perfect. Like, if I read my Bible enough, prayed long enough, behaved good enough—then I’d stay in it. But now I know: Your love isn’t something I have to perform for. But keeping myself in it? That’s about protecting the space You’ve made for me. It’s about fighting to remain in the awareness of Your grace—fighting to stay in the shelter of it when my emotions say otherwise.

I’m reminded of Psalm 91:

“He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” – Psalm 91:4 (NIV)

Your love is my refuge. My safe place. My covering. And I don’t want to step out from under that. I want to stay close—no matter how grown-up or independent I feel. Because truthfully? I’m nothing without You. I don’t want to be anything without You.

Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and whisper again, “Cling to the cross.” When my thoughts scatter, when my heart grows tired, when the enemy tries to accuse—I’ll choose the cross. I’ll choose the love that never gives up on me. The love that bleeds and redeems and resurrects.

I don’t always know what lies ahead, Lord. But I know what holds me now: Your love. And I’m keeping myself in it by clinging tightly to You.

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.