Tag: discipleship

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.

Obedience: The True Mark of Christian Discipleship

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today, I’m writing this with trembling hands and a heavy heart—not out of fear, but with the kind of spiritual weight that comes when God stirs something deep in your soul. I feel like the Holy Spirit won’t let me move forward until I sit with this truth: obedience is not occasional. It’s a lifestyle. A commitment.

I don’t want to sugarcoat anything. I’m not here to play Christian dress-up or quote Scripture when it feels convenient. I’m here to live it, breathe it, suffer for it if I have to. And lately, God has been confronting me about what I really mean when I say, “Jesus is Lord of my life.”

Because if I truly believe that, how dare I reserve the right to say “yes, but not right now” or “yes, but not in front of them” or “yes, as long as it doesn’t cost me comfort, reputation, or connection.” Who am I kidding?

Luke 6:46 says: “Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say?”

That verse pierced through me today like a sword. It’s Jesus asking a question most of us dodge with spiritual fluff. We love the idea of Him being our Savior—our Provider, our Comforter, our Deliverer. But our Lord? That’s where we hesitate.

And the truth is, Lordship means ownership.

If He owns me—my body, my choices, my time, my future—then obedience is not optional. It’s expected. Not from a place of fear or pressure, but love and honor.

I think of Hebrews 13:5, where God says, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”
That’s not a cute quote for a coffee mug. That’s a promise to carry with us when obedience leaves us standing alone. When saying “yes” to God means losing relationships. When obedience costs us popularity, stability, or dreams we once held dear.

And He will ask us to surrender things we value.

Why? Because He’s cruel? No. Because He’s holy. And we can’t carry our idols and His glory at the same time. It’s one or the other.

I’ve had to wrestle with this personally. God recently asked me to walk away from a situation that wasn’t sinful in the eyes of the world—but it was disobedient in the eyes of God. I knew it. Deep down, I knew I had to walk away.

But do you know how hard it is to obey God when everyone around you is choosing convenience over conviction?

That’s when Romans 8:28 anchored me: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

All things. Even heartbreak. Even loneliness. Even the messes that come from doing the right thing.

Sometimes, obedience looks like closing doors you prayed would stay open. Sometimes, it’s deleting the text, walking away from the friend group, or speaking up when silence would be safer. Sometimes, it’s trusting God with your reputation when the world calls you “too intense” or “too Christian.”

But what does too Christian even mean? Last I checked, Christ didn’t go halfway to the Cross.

That’s why I can’t be halfway with Him.

Here’s the thing: partial obedience is still disobedience. Delayed obedience is disobedience. Conditional obedience is disobedience.

We don’t get to pick and choose. It’s either all in, or we’re playing church.

And I’m done playing church.

I’m done saying, “God, I’ll obey if…” or “I’ll obey when…” I want to be found faithful even when it’s dark, even when I’m scared, even when the outcome is unclear.

I want to be the kind of woman who obeys God with tears streaming down her face, with shaky hands and a surrendered heart, trusting that His way is better—even when it breaks mine.

1 Samuel 15:22 says, “To obey is better than sacrifice.”
God isn’t impressed by how many Bible studies I attend, or how eloquently I can talk about faith. He’s looking at the posture of my heart. Am I willing to obey Him when no one’s clapping, when it’s inconvenient, when it costs me everything?

Because that’s when obedience becomes real.

Jesus said in John 14:15, “If you love me, keep my commandments.”

This isn’t about legalism. It’s about love.

I obey because I love Him. I love Him more than my comfort. More than my image. More than my timeline or dreams.

And tonight, I want to say this out loud as a prayer:


Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve obeyed selectively. For the moments I negotiated with You as if You owe me options. You are not a consultant; You are King. Help me to walk in radical obedience—even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it costs me everything I thought I needed. I trust that what You ask of me is always for my good, even if I can’t see it yet. Make me the kind of woman who follows You without compromise. I want to live for Your glory, not my gain. In Jesus’ name, amen.

So here I am. A 25-year-old woman who doesn’t have it all figured out, but knows one thing for sure:

I’d rather be rejected by the world in obedience to God than accepted by the world in rebellion against Him.

And if obedience means I walk alone sometimes, I’ll still choose it.

Because I am committed.

Not halfway. Not occasionally. But fully, completely, and passionately—

Even when it hurts.


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.

Thank Goodness GOD Isn’t Fair

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I sat on my bed after reading Luke 6:35 for probably the tenth time thisweek, but this time… it got under my skin. Like, deeply under.

“But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.” — Luke 6:35

That verse makes me squirm. Not because I don’t love You—but because I don’t love them. The people who ghosted me. The friend who betrayed my trust. The guy who took my kindness and used it like a doormat. And yet, You’re telling me to love them? And not just tolerate them… but do good to them?

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Prayer #1:
Lord, help me be honest about how hard this is. I want to follow You, even when it feels like I’m walking straight into pain.

I always thought fairness was a godly trait. You do good, you get good. Do bad, and well… consequences. But then here comes Jesus, saying, “Love the ones who hurt you. Give without expecting. Be kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.”

That’s not fair.

But You know what’s wild? I’m starting to think… maybe that’s the best thing about You, God.

Because if You were fair, if You gave me what I deserved—I’d be toast. And not the good kind. The burnt, stale kind.

“He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.” — Psalm 103:10

Prayer #2:
God, thank You for not being fair. Thank You for mercy that flows deeper than my mistakes.

Fairness would have left me out in the cold for all the lies I told in high school, for every time I gossiped to look cool, for the quiet pride I still carry in my chest that whispers, “I’m better than them.”

But grace? Grace says: I see it all… and I still want you.

Prayer #3:
Jesus, make me more like You. Teach me to love people who don’t “deserve” it—because that’s how You love me.

This is the hard truth I keep wrestling with: I’m not the hero in the story. I’m not the one extending grace from a throne of righteousness. I’m the one who needs it. Desperately.

And so when You say, “Be kind to the ungrateful and wicked,” maybe You’re not just talking about them. Maybe You’re talking about me.

Prayer #4:
Break down my pride, Lord. Help me stop seeing myself as better than others. Remind me we’re all standing in need of the same grace.

It’s easy to believe in grace when I’m the one receiving it. It’s way harder when You ask me to give it away like candy—especially to people who don’t even say thank you.

But then I remember… I don’t always say thank you either. I take Your blessings for granted. I doubt Your goodness. I disobey and apologize later like it’s no big deal. And You still love me. You still bless me.

“While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8

Prayer #5:
God, let that verse never lose its weight. You loved me while I was sinning. Not after. Not once I cleaned up. Right in the mess.

So when I say, “God isn’t fair,” I don’t mean it in the bitter way some people do. I mean it with relief. Because fair would’ve left me without hope. Fair would’ve cut me off the moment I messed up. But You? You run toward the mess. You meet me with kindness that I didn’t earn.

And now… You’re asking me to do the same. Not because it’s easy. Not even because it feels good. But because it’s how Your Kingdom works.

Prayer #6:
Jesus, give me the courage to love in unfair ways. Help me bless those who curse me. Fill me with Your compassion when mine runs dry.

Today I thought about the person who hurt me the most last year. It still stings. I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t matter. But I also don’t want bitterness to chain me up. I want to be free. And I think freedom is found in that unfair, radical grace You keep showing me.

Prayer #7:
Help me forgive, God. Even if they never apologize. Even if they don’t change. Help me let go, not for them—but for You.

And help me love generously, not because I trust the other person—but because I trust You.

Maybe that’s the real root of this all. Trust. Do I trust You enough to follow You into uncomfortable places? Into unfair love? Into mercy that looks foolish?

I think I’m learning to say yes. One wobbly, messy yes at a time.

Prayer #8:
Father, thank You for loving me so well. Let my life reflect that kind of love, even when it costs me. Especially then.

Thank goodness You aren’t fair, God. Thank goodness You’re good instead.

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.