Tag: faith

Sacred Heartbeats: Lifting the Unborn in Prayer

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight my prayers felt heavier than usual — not for myself, not for things I need or long for, but for those who haven’t yet had a voice. The unborn. The hidden. The fragile lives forming in silence while the world spins on, mostly unaware.

I sat with my Bible open on my lap, candles lit, just listening. The ache in my heart grew still and sharp — that kind of quiet pain that feels almost holy. I knew I needed to bring this burden to God. Not in anger, not in despair, but in prayer.

“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:13)

That verse always pulls something deep from me. The way David writes it — knit me together — reminds me that every child, no matter how small, is not an accident. Not a clump of cells. Not a mistake. A soul. A story. A being fully known by God before ever being known by the world.

So I started praying.

I prayed for the babies — those quietly growing, week by week, their hearts beating faster than anyone hears, their fingers forming, their spirits already alive to the One who made them. I prayed that they would be protected. That somehow, someway, their lives would be preserved. I asked God to send angels to guard them, to soften hearts, to change decisions before it’s too late.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” (Jeremiah 1:5)

That verse keeps coming back to me. Every time I think about the unborn, I remember: God knows them. Not in theory. In spirit. In fullness. That truth is too powerful to ignore. They may be unseen by most of the world, but they are known deeply by their Creator.

Next, I prayed for the mothers — especially the ones who are scared. The ones who feel alone or unprepared. The women being pressured or shamed or lied to. I can’t imagine the weight of that moment, standing between fear and life. But I know God sees them. And I believe He aches with them.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1)

I prayed that these women would feel His presence in the stillness. That they would hear His voice whispering, “You can do this. I will be with you.” That people would come around them — real people, with compassion and courage — to support them in love, not just opinions.

I also prayed for women who have already had abortions. This is always the hardest part for me to write or talk about, because it’s so delicate. I don’t want to speak over their pain or minimize their stories. I just know that God’s mercy runs deeper than our deepest regrets. That His grace is for every woman — including the ones who feel like they can never be forgiven.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us… and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

Forgiveness isn’t a theory to me. It’s the whole reason I’m still standing. I prayed that women who carry guilt would meet Jesus as He truly is — gentle, strong, full of compassion. I prayed that they would feel His arms around them, not His finger pointing at them. I asked God to pour healing into their wounds, and to help the Church reflect His heart better — with grace, not shame.

Then I prayed for the people in power — leaders, lawmakers, counselors, doctors. That they would see the unborn as God sees them. That their decisions would be shaped by truth, not pressure. That they would remember the weight of every life and feel conviction where needed.

And lastly, I prayed for myself.

That I would not let my heart grow numb in a world that’s constantly desensitizing us to death and dehumanization. That I would never turn away just because it’s easier. That I would love both the unborn and the born — the child and the mother. That my words would be filled with truth, but seasoned with grace.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves… defend the rights of the poor and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8–9)

I may not be able to do everything. But I can pray. I can give. I can support women who choose life. I can listen. I can love. And when the time is right, I can speak.

Sometimes I wonder what I’ll do if this belief costs me friendships. Or silence in a room where everyone assumes I think the way they do. But then I remember — Jesus didn’t call us to comfort. He called us to truth. And love. Always love.

There’s so much I don’t understand about this world. About why so many babies don’t get a chance. About why so many women feel they have no other option. But I trust the One who sees the full picture. I trust the One who holds every life — seen and unseen — in His hands.

So I’ll keep praying. Even when no one sees. Even when it hurts. Even when the answers don’t come in the way I hope.

Because I believe it matters.

And I believe they matter — every single one.

Abortion is Murder: A Lonely Christian Belief in a Loud World

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, I feel heavy.

I don’t even know where to start. I’ve avoided writing this down for so long, maybe because it feels too raw or because I’m afraid of how it might sound, even to myself. But lately, this has been sitting on my heart like a weight. And I need to pour it out — not for anyone else to see, but for me. Maybe to understand myself better. Maybe to let God work through the honesty of it.

Here it is, plain and simple: I believe abortion is murder.

Even writing that, I feel my chest tighten. Not because I doubt it, but because of what that belief costs me. I don’t say it out loud. I don’t post about it. I don’t argue in comment sections. It’s not that I’m ashamed of what I believe — I just know that in the world I live in, especially among people my age, this belief makes me a target. Or worse, a monster. People I love and respect — friends, classmates, even some from church — think this view is outdated, oppressive, even hateful.

But to me, it’s none of those things. To me, it’s rooted in love.

It comes from a place of reverence for life — all life. The unborn child who hasn’t had a chance to speak, to breathe, to be held. I believe that life starts at conception, that every heartbeat is sacred. I believe that God knits us together in the womb, not as a poetic idea, but as a truth. Psalm 139 has always felt so personal to me — “You knit me together in my mother’s womb.” How could I read that and believe life begins only when it’s convenient?

But it’s not just about the child. It’s about the woman, too. The pain, the pressure, the fear. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be pregnant and scared, unsupported, or alone. And because I can’t imagine it, I try not to judge. I really do. I don’t think women who’ve had abortions are evil. I don’t think they’re murderers in the cruel, criminal sense of the word. I think they’re human — hurting, overwhelmed, and in many cases, lied to about what abortion really is.

Still, in my heart, I can’t pretend it’s not the taking of a life. I’ve tried to sit with other perspectives. I’ve read, I’ve listened, I’ve prayed. But nothing has moved me from this belief. And maybe that’s because it’s not just a thought — it’s a conviction. Something spiritual. Something God has written on my soul in a way that no amount of social pressure can erase.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I were the one facing an unplanned pregnancy. Would my convictions hold? Would I have the courage to carry the child, even if I felt alone or ashamed? I like to think I would. I hope I never have to find out. But I pray that if I ever do, God would give me the strength to choose life — not just in theory, but in practice.

Being single and 24, I’m not in the middle of this issue the way some women are. I’m on the outside, watching the debates, listening to the shouts from both sides. And it’s so loud. So divisive. I feel like if I spoke up, I’d be dismissed or attacked. So I stay silent. And in that silence, I start to feel alone.

Even in church, people tread lightly around this topic. It’s become “too political,” too messy. And I get it — it is messy. But should we really go silent just because it’s controversial? Didn’t Jesus speak truth when it was dangerous, when it cost Him everything?

I don’t want to be hateful. I never want my belief to come across as judgment. I want it to come across as love. I want people to know that I care not just about the unborn child but also about the mother — her heart, her healing, her eternity. If she’s gone through it, I want her to know there’s grace. If she’s considering it, I want her to know there are other ways. I want to be part of the solution — to love better, support more, help create a world where no woman feels like abortion is her only choice.

But all I have right now is this belief, this quiet conviction that I carry with me in rooms where I can’t say it out loud. It’s lonely. But I remind myself that Jesus walked a lonely road, too. And that being faithful doesn’t always mean being popular. Sometimes it means standing still when the world rushes past you in the opposite direction.

So tonight, I choose to be honest with myself. I choose not to bury this part of me. I won’t scream it at the world, but I won’t pretend it’s not real either. God gave me this heart — soft, but strong. Quiet, but unshakable. And He sees me, even when no one else does.

If I lose people over this belief, so be it. If I stay silent to preserve peace, I’ll make sure it’s never out of fear, but out of wisdom. Either way, I know who I serve. I know who made me. And I know that in His eyes, every life — born or unborn — matters deeply.

Including mine.

A Prayer for Newborn Babies

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the precious gift of new life. Each newborn child is a miracle — formed by Your hands, known by Your heart, and created with divine purpose. You said in Your Word, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5), and today we praise You for the beautiful lives You are bringing into the world.

Lord, we lift up every newborn baby into Your care. Wrap them in Your protection, cover them in Your peace, and surround them with love. Let their bodies grow strong, their minds be filled with peace, and their hearts always be open to Your presence. From their very first breath, may they be held in the warmth of Your grace.

We pray for wisdom and strength for every parent and caregiver. May they be filled with patience, tenderness, and courage as they nurture and guide these tiny lives. Help them to love selflessly, lead with humility, and rely on You daily. May their homes be full of laughter, learning, and the light of Christ.

Jesus, You welcomed children with open arms. Let these little ones grow to know You, trust You, and walk in Your truth. May they become strong in spirit, rich in kindness, and bold in faith. And even when the world feels uncertain, may they always find their identity and security in You.

We entrust every newborn baby to Your unfailing love — the same love that never changes, never ends, and never lets go.

In Jesus’ holy name we pray,
Amen.

Five Ways to Talk to God: A Simple Daily Prayer Routine

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Yesterday was a whirlwind — work was crazy, my phone wouldn’t stop notifying me of everything, and I somehow managed to burn rice (how does that even happen?). But even with the chaos, I found peace. Not because everything went smoothly, but because I carved out time to pray. Really pray. Not the rushed, half-thought “Lord, help me” before a meeting — but the kind where you slow down, breathe, and open your heart like a journal to God.

Lately, I’ve been learning that prayer isn’t just one thing. It’s not just asking God for stuff or saying thank you when things go right. It’s deeper than that — it’s a conversation with the Creator, and just like any healthy relationship, it involves different expressions: praise, confession, gratitude, intercession, and petition.

I’m writing it down tonight because I don’t want to forget. And maybe someday, when life gets even crazier, I’ll need to come back and remind myself that prayer isn’t a formula — it’s a rhythm. A relationship. A lifeline.

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Five Ways to Talk to God: A Simple Daily Prayer Routine

Here’s how I’ve been walking this out, one day at a time:

1. Praise – Start with who He is.

Every morning, before I reach for my phone, I try to say something — even just a whisper — that acknowledges God’s greatness. Not for what He’s done, but for who He is.

“Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name.”
— Psalm 100:4

Some days, it’s as simple as, “God, You are good. You’re holy, and I love You.”
Other days, I’ll sing quietly while brushing my teeth. (Yes, even off-key worship counts.)
Praise reminds me that He’s still on the throne — no matter how unstable my life feels.

2. Confession – Clear the air.

This one used to intimidate me. I mean, God already knows everything, right? But there’s something powerful about owning your mistakes before Him. It keeps my heart soft and my spirit humble.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
— 1 John 1:9

Sometimes I journal it. Sometimes I speak it aloud. Either way, I try to be honest:
“Lord, I gossiped today. I was impatient. I doubted. Forgive me. Change me.”

Confession isn’t about shame. It’s about freedom. It makes space for His grace.

3. Thanksgiving – Gratitude shifts everything.

I keep a gratitude journal, and even when I forget to write in it, I take a few minutes during lunch or before bed to name at least three things I’m thankful for — big or small.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”
— 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Today, I thanked Him for:

  • A hot cup of tea on a stressful morning
  • A sweet message from my little sister
  • The way the sunset painted the sky like fire

When I say thank You, my heart stops complaining. Gratitude silences anxiety.

4. Intercession – Praying for others.

This one has stretched me the most. It’s easy to make prayer all about me, but lately I’ve been keeping a list — friends, family, coworkers, even strangers — and lifting them up intentionally.

“I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people.”
— 1 Timothy 2:1

Tonight I prayed for:

  • My friend Sarah, who’s grieving
  • My coworker James, who’s battling anxiety
  • That girl I passed on the train — I don’t know her name, but God does

Intercession is how I partner with God’s heart. It’s how I love others, even from a distance.

5. Petition – Bring your needs to Him.

This one comes naturally — we all have needs. But I’ve been learning not to just dump my worries at His feet but to also trust that He hears and responds — even when it’s not how I expected.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”
— Philippians 4:6

Today I asked Him for wisdom. For clarity on some decisions. For peace in my heart about things that feel uncertain.
And I reminded myself: He’s not annoyed by my voice. He delights in it.

It’s not perfect. I don’t always follow this in order or get it “right.” Some days, I only manage a sentence. Other days, I cry for an hour. But I’ve found that when I let all five parts of prayer shape my days, I don’t just talk to God — I grow closer to Him.

“The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.”
— Psalm 145:18

I don’t have to perform. I just have to show up.

Tonight’s Prayer:

Lord, thank You for teaching me how to pray — not just to ask, but to adore, confess, thank, and lift others up. Teach me to be faithful in the quiet moments and desperate in the loud ones. Let prayer be the air I breathe, not just the words I say. Draw me near, and remind me daily that You’re already close. I love You. Amen.

This is what I’ll come back to when life feels too much — this rhythm, this space with Him.
Five ways to talk to God.
One faithful God who listens to them all.

From Hurt to Healing: 10 Powerful Bible Verses on Forgiveness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This morning my heart feels both heavy and hopeful. It’s strange how those two emotions can live in the same chest, but I think that’s what happens when God starts mending things inside you. I’ve been praying a lot about forgiveness lately. Not the shallow, “I’m over it” kind — I mean the kind where you truly let go, even if they never say sorry.

Someone I trusted hurt me. And not just once. Words were said that cut deep, and for a while, I didn’t even realize how much bitterness I’d let settle in my heart. I smiled like I was fine, prayed like I’d moved on, but inside I was replaying the moment over and over again — asking why, wishing I’d said something else, wondering if I was the problem.

But God doesn’t let us sit in that place forever.

This week, in prayer, I felt Him gently press this truth into me: Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting what happened — it’s about remembering who God is.

That hit me hard. Because I realized I had made it all about them: what they did, how wrong they were, what I thought I deserved. But forgiveness isn’t something we offer because others have earned it — we forgive because we’ve been forgiven first.

“Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”
— Ephesians 4:32

That verse came to me as I sat on my bedroom floor, journaling and crying. I asked God to help me let go. Not because it’s easy. But because He did it first — and for way worse.

I’ve been reading Scripture every night to keep my heart soft and surrendered. So, for my own healing and maybe someday for someone else who needs it, I’m writing this down.

From Hurt to Healing: here are 10 Powerful Bible Verses on Forgiveness

  1. Ephesians 4:32
    “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”
    This verse reminds me that forgiveness is rooted in compassion — not justice. God forgave me freely, and I’m called to do the same.
  2. Matthew 6:14–15
    “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”
    This is sobering. Forgiveness is not optional. It’s a command with eternal weight.
  3. Colossians 3:13
    “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”
    It’s not just about letting go — it’s about reflecting God’s mercy.
  4. Luke 6:37
    “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”
    Sometimes I want justice so badly. But God is reminding me: mercy wins.
  5. Mark 11:25
    “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”
    I don’t want blocked prayers. Holding grudges closes my heart to God.
  6. Psalm 103:12
    “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.”
    God doesn’t bring up my past. I shouldn’t keep bringing up someone else’s.
  7. Proverbs 17:9
    “Whoever would foster love covers over an offense, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends.”
    I need to stop repeating the hurt — in my head or with others.
  8. Romans 12:19
    “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.”
    I keep trying to settle it myself — in my mind, in my silence — but it’s not my job. God sees.
  9. Isaiah 43:25
    “I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.”
    God forgives me completely — no record kept. I want to forgive that way.
  10. Matthew 18:21–22
    “Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.’”
    Forgiveness isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a choice I might have to make daily.

Some days, I feel like I’m making progress. Other days, a memory will hit, and the old hurt comes rushing back. But every time it does, I remind myself that healing isn’t linear — it’s holy. And God is patient with me in the process.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”
— Psalm 51:10

Tonight, I asked God to clean out my heart again. To scoop out the resentment, the silent anger, the unspoken words I’ve buried. And He did. I felt it.

Prayer:
Lord, thank You for showing me how deeply You’ve forgiven me. Help me extend that same grace to others, even when they don’t deserve it — especially then. Break the chains of bitterness in me. Remind me that You are just, and I can trust You with the pain. Fill my heart with mercy, not memory. Help me release the offense and walk in the freedom of Your love. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I’m learning that forgiveness doesn’t mean what they did was okay. It means I’m okay — because Jesus carried it all. He didn’t wait for me to apologize before offering me grace. And now I’m called to do the same.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to share this with someone else who’s struggling to let go. But for today, I’ll leave this here — a reminder to myself that healing is possible, and forgiveness is the door that opens it.

Women Belong in The Kitchen: Embracing My God-Given Role in a World on the Brink

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

The kettle is whistling and the bread just came out of the oven. The warmth of the stove wraps around me like a blanket, and the quiet is a comfort — not a curse. The world outside may be in chaos, but in here, peace still reigns. Not because I have it all figured out, but because I know who holds the future.

Even though I live alone for now — no husband, no children — I live as if they’re already part of my life. Because one day, if the Lord wills, they will be.

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”
— Psalm 37:4

And I do desire marriage. I desire to serve a husband. To raise children in truth. To be a keeper of the home who is clothed in strength and dignity — not caught in the world’s confusion about what it means to be a woman.

I don’t see the kitchen as a prison. I see it as a place of preparation and power. It’s where I practice serving, sacrificing, and sustaining life. Even now — even just for myself — I treat every meal I prepare, every space I tend, every routine I build, as an offering. Because this is not about me. It’s about being faithful in the waiting.

“She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household.”
— Proverbs 31:15

I want to be ready when God calls me into marriage — not just emotionally or spiritually, but practically. I want to know how to feed, nurture, support, and follow my future husband with grace and strength. And I want to raise children who know truth from lies, who see joy in discipline and purpose in obedience.

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

The world is falling apart. The news grows darker every day. And while people stock up on weapons and solar panels, I’m stocking up on wisdom, discipline, and love. Because survival is about more than having a pantry full of food. It’s about knowing how to create peace in a storm — and that starts in the home.

So yes, I belong in the kitchen. Not because I have to — but because I choose to be a woman who nurtures life. It’s where I’ll minister to my family. It’s where I’ll teach lessons, dry tears, fill empty bellies, and pray over every plate.

“The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.”
— Proverbs 14:1

I’m not foolish. I know what’s coming. And I want to be ready in spirit and skill when the world expects women to be helpless and hopeless.

Prayer
Father, thank You for creating me with purpose. Thank You for showing me that womanhood is not weakness, but strength of a different kind — softer, deeper, and holy. Help me to become the kind of wife who blesses her husband all the days of his life. Make me diligent in this season of waiting — to work, learn, and worship in private, unseen ways. Let this home be a training ground for the life You’re preparing me for. Amen.

Sometimes I think of my future husband. I wonder what he’s doing tonight. Maybe he’s chopping firewood or reading the Word by lamplight like I am. Maybe he’s praying for a woman who will walk beside him without questioning his leadership or trying to take it from him.

I pray I’ll be the answer to that prayer.

“Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church…”
— Ephesians 5:22–23

That verse is not a burden to me. It’s a comfort. I want a husband I can trust to lead — and I want to be the kind of woman he can trust to follow without resistance. Because that kind of order isn’t outdated. It’s biblical. It brings peace, not confusion.

And I know the world rolls its eyes at women like me. They think we’re brainwashed, repressed, afraid. But I’ve never felt more free. Free from the pressure to compete, to climb, to prove myself by the world’s standards. I know who I am — and whose I am.

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”
— Proverbs 31:30

So tonight, I light my candles. I pray over my future table. I fold my laundry with care and organize my shelves because this is my calling. Even now, without a husband to serve or children to raise, I am living the life of a God-honoring woman in training.

Prayer
Lord, prepare me to be a wife and mother who walks in wisdom, patience, and deep love. Teach me to lay down selfish ambition and pick up quiet faithfulness. Let me serve now with joy, knowing that You see everything done in secret. Bless my future husband, wherever he is tonight. Strengthen him to lead. Teach him to love. And when the time is right, bring us together in Your perfect plan. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

This is enough for tonight. The stew is cooling and the world is still turning. But my heart is full. Because even in this quiet season, I know I’m becoming exactly the kind of woman I was made to be.

And when the time comes — when God brings my family — I won’t just be ready. I’ll be grateful.

When God Whispers: Finding Faith in the Silence

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today has been quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brings peace, necessarily — more like the kind of quiet that feels like You’re hiding. I don’t want to admit it, but I’ve felt distant from You lately, like I’m calling out into a canyon and all I hear is my own voice echoing back. It scares me.

I keep thinking of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. After the fire, after the earthquake, after the wind… there You were — not in the chaos, but in the still small voice. A whisper.

“And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.”
— 1 Kings 19:12 (ESV)

I wonder if I’m just too distracted to hear Your whisper.

This morning, I sat with my coffee and tried to read the Word like I usually do. But I’ll be honest — I didn’t get far. My mind kept wandering to everything I feel like I’m missing: direction, clarity, certainty. I want to know what You want from me — with my career, with my singleness, with this sense of waiting I can’t shake.

I know faith isn’t about feelings. I know that. I’ve told myself that a hundred times. But I miss feeling You near.

So I prayed:
“God, if You’re here — please, help me to hear You. Even in the silence. Especially in the silence.”

And right then, I felt a strange peace settle over me. Not loud. Not even warm, really. But steady. Like a whisper I couldn’t quite catch, but I knew was meant for me.

Maybe that’s what faith looks like sometimes — trusting that You’re present even when You don’t speak loud.

I remembered Psalm 46:10:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Being still is harder than it sounds. My brain constantly wants answers. Movement. Resolution. But You invite me into stillness. Not just quiet around me, but quiet in me. A heart that isn’t frantic for answers but anchored in You.

Faith, I think, is most real when it has to lean on who You are, not what I can hear or feel.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
— Hebrews 11:1 (ESV)

I guess I’ve been measuring closeness with You by how “seen” or “heard” I feel. But maybe this is one of those seasons where You’re inviting me deeper — past the emotional highs, into the quiet trust.

Like a relationship that matures. Less fireworks, more foundation.

There’s something beautiful and hard about that.

I walked down to the lake near my apartment this evening. The water was still — not a breeze. Just birdsong and the hum of life going on. I sat on a bench and asked You again: “Are You here?” I didn’t hear a voice. No signs. But my eyes caught this tiny ripple on the surface of the lake — like something beneath moved, unseen, but there.

I don’t know why, but I thought: That’s You. Moving beneath the surface of my life. Quietly. Faithfully. Even when I can’t see it. Even when I forget to notice.

It reminded me of Isaiah 30:15:

“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

That’s the kind of strength I want. Not the kind that performs or pretends to have it all figured out. But the quiet strength of a heart that trusts You are good — especially when I don’t have the map.

Jesus, I believe You are enough for me in the silence. I don’t need a booming voice or a perfect plan. I just need You. And You’ve promised You’ll never leave.

“And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
— Matthew 28:20 (ESV)

Tonight, I’ll go to bed still not knowing exactly what’s next. Still single. Still unsure about grad school. Still a little worn down. But I will lay my head down in peace — not because the silence is gone, but because You are in it.

You whisper, and that’s enough.

Let me learn to lean in. To trust even when You seem far. To believe that You’re close even when it feels quiet.

A Prayer Before I Sleep:

God,
Thank You for meeting me in the silence.
Even when I can’t feel You, You’re faithful.
Teach me to listen for Your whispers —
Not just in the quiet around me,
But in the stillness of my soul.
Grow my faith in the unseen.
Help me to rest in Your presence —
Not because I have all the answers,
But because I know You hold them.
I love You, even when I don’t understand.
I trust You, even when You whisper.
And I’m Yours, always.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

What Atheists Miss About the Power of Grace

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Heavenly Father,

Tonight, I found myself thinking about forgiveness—not the kind that’s easy or expected, but the deep, hard kind that stretches our hearts beyond what feels humanly possible. The kind Jesus spoke about so often, and the kind so many people in today’s world seem to misunderstand or overlook entirely.

There’s an old saying I’ve heard more than once: “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” It’s powerful, and painfully true.

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I see it all the time around me—people who are hurting and don’t know how to heal. People who’ve been wronged, abandoned, betrayed, or deeply wounded, and instead of processing the pain and laying it before the Lord, they hold it tightly, like it’s somehow protecting them. But in reality, it’s just making them more bitter, more broken, and more distant from the peace they’re actually craving.

What some atheists—or really, anyone outside the hope of Christ—don’t often realize is that forgiveness isn’t about letting the offender off the hook. It’s about freeing your own heart from the chains of resentment. Jesus didn’t teach us to forgive because it’s the easy or logical thing to do. He taught us to forgive because it’s the divine thing to do.

Matthew 6:14-15 couldn’t be clearer:
“For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

That’s not just a suggestion—it’s a call to action, a command rooted in the very heart of the gospel. After all, the entire message of salvation is based on forgiveness. Christ died not just to show us love, but to offer us forgiveness, even though we didn’t deserve it.

Lord, soften my heart when I want to harden it. Remind me that I have been forgiven so much more than I’ve ever been asked to forgive. Help me not to forget the cross when I’m tempted to withhold grace.

Forgiveness is hard. I won’t pretend otherwise. Sometimes it means choosing to release pain even when the person who caused it hasn’t apologized. Sometimes it means extending grace when you feel like you’re still bleeding from the wound.

But there’s healing in the obedience.

Studies—even secular ones—have shown that forgiving others can actually lower blood pressure, reduce stress, improve sleep, boost the immune system, and decrease anxiety and depression. Isn’t that amazing? Even science can’t help but testify to the power of what God designed.

But forgiveness doesn’t always come naturally. So how do we actually do it?

First, we pray.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 5:44, “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
That sounds almost impossible until you try it. Because something sacred happens when you start praying for the person who hurt you. You stop seeing them as just the villain in your story, and you start seeing them through God’s eyes—a broken person, just like you, in need of grace.

Father, I lift up the people who have hurt me. I don’t always understand why they did what they did, but You do. And I trust You to heal the broken places in both of us. Soften their heart, and mine too. Help me to release this burden into Your hands.

Second, we build forgiveness into our daily walk with Christ. Forgiveness isn’t just an event—it’s a lifestyle. You don’t just forgive once and forget. You forgive over and over, even when the hurt resurfaces. You choose it like you choose to follow Jesus: day after day, moment by moment.

It takes practice, patience, and God’s power.

We’re not meant to do it alone. That’s why community matters so much. When we share our struggles with other believers, we’re reminded that we’re not weak—we’re human. And in that shared humanity, we find strength, encouragement, and accountability.

James 5:16 reminds us, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.”
There is healing when we’re honest, and freedom when we walk with others who are chasing the same Christ-like heart.

And let’s be real—resentment doesn’t just affect us spiritually. It spills into everything: our relationships, our physical health, our mood, our energy, and even how we view God. If we’re not careful, bitterness can become an idol we nurse instead of a wound we surrender.

But when we forgive, we reclaim peace. When we release others from the prison of our resentment, we actually walk out of that prison ourselves.

Lord, teach me to be a forgiving woman—not out of obligation, but out of love for You. Let forgiveness become part of my character. Let it shape my words, my thoughts, my prayers. And when it feels too big for me to do alone, remind me that Your Spirit is my helper.

Forgiveness is hard, yes—but it’s worth every ounce of effort. It’s not about forgetting or pretending nothing happened. It’s about choosing not to carry the weight anymore. It’s about choosing obedience, even when it hurts. And it’s about trusting that God is the ultimate Judge and Healer.

Romans 12:19 says, “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.”
That means we don’t have to make things right—we just have to do what’s righteous.

So tonight, I choose to forgive. Not because it feels good. Not because they said sorry. Not even because I feel strong.
But because Jesus forgave me.
Because I want to walk in freedom.
Because I want peace that only He can give.

And because holding on to bitterness just isn’t worth missing out on the beauty of grace.

With a healing heart,
A Daughter of Grace Learning to Forgive 💛

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Hey ChrisTians, Read This When YoU’RE Feeling Lonely!

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness lately. It’s something that’s been weighing on my heart—not just for myself, but for so many people around me. No matter what we scroll past on Instagram or see in people’s curated lives on TikTok, there’s this quiet truth behind it all: a lot of us are lonely.

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Seriously, I know we don’t talk about it much, but it’s there. And I think it’s time we stop pretending everything’s fine when our hearts are aching.

I read a couple of studies last week that confirmed what I’ve already been sensing—loneliness is actually rising, especially among young adults. Isn’t that wild? You’d think with all the ways we’re supposedly “connected,” we’d feel more together. But instead, it feels like we’re more isolated than ever.

I think part of it started during the pandemic. When we were all stuck inside, disconnected from church, friends, family, and even just basic community rhythms like grabbing coffee or attending a Bible study in person—it did something to us. And for many people, they never really came back out. I know some girls who barely leave their apartments anymore. They say they’re “fine,” but their eyes tell another story.

And maybe the saddest part? They’re ashamed to admit it. Like saying, “I feel lonely,” means they’ve failed somehow. But the truth is, loneliness doesn’t mean you’re weak or broken. It means you’re human.

As a Christian, I just want to remind anyone reading this—and my own heart too—that we are not alone. Not ever.

Even in our loneliest moments, God is there. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Isn’t that beautiful? We serve a God who draws near to us, especially in our weakest and loneliest places.

But I get it. Sometimes even knowing God is near doesn’t make the ache go away instantly. That’s why we have to learn how to care for ourselves in a way that reflects how He cares for us.

One of the first things I’m learning is the importance of self-compassion. And before anyone rolls their eyes and thinks, “That sounds too self-help-ish,” let me explain.

Self-compassion isn’t about being selfish. It’s about extending grace to ourselves the same way Jesus does. So many of us carry guilt and shame like it’s part of our identity. We beat ourselves up for not being more productive, more social, more… everything. We compare ourselves to people online who seem like they have it all together and then wonder what’s wrong with us.

But here’s the truth: God never called us to be perfect. He called us to be His.

In Mark 12:31, Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” How can we love others well if we don’t even know how to love ourselves?

So I’m learning to take a breath, pray, and remind myself: It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to not have it all figured out. It’s okay to feel lonely sometimes.

Lord, help me be gentle with myself. Help me see myself the way You see me—with love, not judgment. When I feel like I’m falling short, remind me that Your grace is enough.

After practicing self-compassion, the next thing I’ve found helpful is working on my relationships.

Because the truth is—we’re made for connection. God designed us to be in community. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, “Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.”

I think of my closest friend, Grace. We had lost touch for a while, but after I reached out again, we started talking more and even praying together on the phone. It was awkward at first—I won’t lie. But it became a lifeline. It reminded me that even when connection feels hard or distant, it’s worth the effort to pursue it.

So if you’re feeling isolated, maybe text that friend you haven’t heard from in a while. Join a small group at church. Say hi to someone new on Sunday morning. God often brings healing through people—don’t miss the opportunity.

But here’s the thing that holds all of this together: God Himself is our truest companion.

Deuteronomy 31:6 says, “Do not be afraid or terrified… for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” That verse gives me chills every time. Because no matter how quiet my phone is, or how many Friday nights I spend at home, I’m not actually alone. And neither are you.

Cultivating intimacy with God is the most beautiful remedy for loneliness. It doesn’t replace human connection, but it fills the soul in a way no one else can. Through prayer, worship, reading His Word, and simply sitting in silence with Him, I’ve learned that His presence is enough.

Jesus, thank You for always being near, even when I forget. Help me to draw closer to You when I feel unseen, unknown, or forgotten. Fill the empty places in my heart with Your love. Remind me that You are not far off, but as close as my breath.

So, dear heart, if you’re reading this and feeling like you’re the only one struggling—please know, you’re not. So many of us feel the same. But the good news is that we don’t have to stay there. There is hope, healing, and help when we turn to Jesus.

Don’t be ashamed of your loneliness. Bring it to God. Talk about it. Reach out. You were never meant to carry it alone.

Romans 8:38-39 promises us that “neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Not even loneliness can separate you from Him.

And that, sweet friend, is everything.

The Devil Strikes When You’re Spiritually Exhausted

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Have you ever noticed how much harder it is to resist temptation at night? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately—especially when I find myself wandering into the kitchen at 9 or 10 p.m., looking for a “little treat.” It seems so small in the moment—a bowl of ice cream, a bag of chips, just a bite of something sweet. But behind that craving, there’s often something deeper stirring.

Why is it so hard to say no to the things we easily resist during the day?

During daylight hours, we’re alert. We have routines, structure, and usually more mental strength to make good decisions. But as the sun sets and we wind down, something shifts. That sense of control we held earlier begins to fade. And we convince ourselves that a late-night indulgence is no big deal.

But the truth is, this moment—this weariness—is exactly when the enemy whispers the loudest.

Scripture warns us about this. 1 Peter 5:8 tells us, “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”

Satan doesn’t come after us in our strongest moments. He waits. He watches. He knows when our defenses are down—when we’re tired, overwhelmed, lonely, or distracted. He knows that by the end of the day, our willpower has been worn thin by decision fatigue, stress, and even spiritual neglect.

And he seizes those moments to strike.

Not always with something obviously sinful. Sometimes, it’s as subtle as distracting us from prayer. Pulling us toward isolation. Feeding us lies that sound like truth. Or simply luring us into habits that slowly dull our sensitivity to God’s voice.

Late-night snacking might not seem like a spiritual issue at first glance. But if we dig deeper, it reveals a pattern: the temptation to self-soothe instead of turning to God. The temptation to indulge in temporary pleasures instead of abiding in lasting peace.

We’ve all been there. And I don’t say this to bring shame—I say it to shine a light on the pattern, because darkness loses its power when it’s exposed to truth.

Ephesians 6:11 says, “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”
And verses 13–17 go on to describe that armor in beautiful detail:

  • The belt of truth
  • The breastplate of righteousness
  • The shoes of the gospel of peace
  • The shield of faith
  • The helmet of salvation
  • The sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God

But armor is only useful if we actually put it on and learn to use it.

That means praying before the battle begins. That means studying the Word before temptation comes. That means preparing our minds and hearts for the spiritual fight we might not even see coming.

So often we think we’ll have the strength to resist temptation when it arises, but God calls us to prepare in advance.

Lord, teach me to wear Your armor daily. Help me recognize the enemy’s tactics—not just the obvious ones, but the subtle ones that slip in when I’m weary. Strengthen my spirit so that I won’t depend on my own strength, but on Yours. When I feel weak, remind me that You are strong.

We don’t fight this battle alone. God hasn’t left us to navigate temptation in our own power. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, the Lord says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Even when our willpower fades, His strength remains constant.

Still, we have a part to play. God gives us wisdom to build healthy habits that protect and strengthen us. Simple choices—like going to bed earlier, avoiding late-night TV that stirs unhealthy desires, or keeping our devotional time consistent—can make a big difference. Regular sleep, movement, nourishing food, and staying in community with other believers are all ways to guard our hearts and bodies.

Proverbs 4:23 reminds us, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

So, when I feel those cravings creeping in late at night, I’m learning to pause and ask myself: What am I really hungry for?

Sometimes, it’s rest. Sometimes, it’s comfort. Sometimes, it’s connection or even worship. And none of those things can truly be filled with sugar or snacks or scrolling through my phone.

Only God satisfies. Psalm 107:9 says, “For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.”

Jesus, You are my portion. Fill the empty places in me that I try to satisfy with temporary things. When I feel pulled toward things that aren’t good for me, remind me that You offer better. Help me build a life that honors You—even in the small, quiet choices no one sees.

I’m also reminded tonight that we are never meant to resist temptation alone. One of the greatest gifts God gives us is the Church—a community of people walking through the same struggles, cheering each other on, and holding each other accountable.

James 4:7 gives us both instruction and promise: “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

So tonight, I submit again. My mind, my body, my heart. I surrender my weakness, my late-night cravings, my thoughts, and my routine.

And I take this moment to put on the armor. Not just for tonight, but for every battle still ahead.

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for never giving up on me. Thank You for staying close, even when I wander. Strengthen me to live for You—not just in the big moments, but in the tiny ones that build a life of faith. Help me to see temptation clearly, to resist it fiercely, and to cling to You constantly. You are my source, my hope, and my victory. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

If you’re reading this and feeling discouraged by your own areas of weakness—please know, you’re not alone. And more importantly, you are not powerless. With God, we have every tool we need to stand strong.

Let’s keep fighting the good fight—together.

Love,
A Sister in Christ, Learning to Lean on Him Night and Day 💛

Now More Than Ever: The Sacred Calling of Motherhood

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

As I reflect on Mother’s Day this year, my thoughts are filled with gratitude for the incredible woman who has shaped so much of who I am—my mother. Though I’m not a mother myself yet, I see so much beauty and purpose in the role of motherhood, not just through the lens of what I’ve experienced as her daughter, but also through the understanding that it’s a sacred, soul-shaping calling designed by God. In my own life, I’ve seen firsthand how motherhood, with all of its challenges, joys, sacrifices, and blessings, is far more than “just” a job—it is part of God’s redemptive plan.

Genesis 3:16 tells us that, as a result of the fall, women would bear children “in pain and sorrow.” While this verse speaks of the reality of the struggles that come with motherhood, it also hints at the profound purpose within that pain. It is easy to view motherhood as a series of struggles, from the physical demands of pregnancy to the exhaustion of sleepless nights and the weight of trying to raise a child who walks in God’s ways. But I’ve come to understand that, as difficult as it can be, it is a pain with purpose. This purpose goes far beyond the momentary struggles—it’s the eternal impact motherhood has on shaping future generations for God’s Kingdom.

When I think of my own mother, I see how much sacrifice and love she poured into raising me and my siblings. I know that every day, she made choices that were not just for the moment, but for eternity. Proverbs 31:28 says, “Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her.” And I’ve done just that. I’ve risen up to praise my mom because of the sacrifices she made in raising me, even when it wasn’t easy, even when the days felt long and the challenges felt never-ending.

Motherhood is far more than just physical labor—it’s spiritual, emotional, and relational labor. It’s a divine calling that echoes God’s redemptive plan for humanity. The Bible tells us that children are a blessing from the Lord. Psalm 127:3 declares, “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.” There is no greater privilege than the role of a mother, and my mom has shown me the depth of that calling.

I’ve seen how my mother, though not perfect, has poured out her heart, her prayers, and her love into shaping me. She’s been a living testament to the idea that motherhood is not a task of “just” raising children, but of shaping future generations—future world-changers who will carry on God’s love and truth. Every sacrifice she made, every sleepless night, every tear shed in prayer for her children—it all matters.

I am reminded of 1 Timothy 2:15, where Paul says, “But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love, and holiness, with self-control.” This verse isn’t about earning salvation through childbirth, but rather, it speaks to the sanctifying process of motherhood. It refines women, molding them into more patient, selfless, and faithful beings. My mom’s love for God and us has shaped who I am today, and I know that her journey of motherhood has been one of growth, faith, and reliance on God.

There’s a deep joy in motherhood, even amid the chaos. As a daughter, I see the joy my mother finds in us—even when life is messy. Nehemiah 8:10 says, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” And I see my mom finding joy in the Lord, even in the mundane moments of motherhood. Yes, there are piles of laundry, long nights, and tough seasons, but there are also moments of pure joy—the sound of a child’s first words, the simple joy of watching them grow and learn, and the fulfillment that comes from guiding them through life’s challenges. I know my mother found joy not just in my successes, but in the very act of raising me.

I’ve also realized that while motherhood can be painful and sacrificial, it is never without purpose. God designed motherhood as a partnership with Him in bringing life into the world. As I look to the future, I believe that even when the challenges of raising children seem daunting, God has a bigger picture in mind. Isaiah 55:8-9 reminds us, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” As mothers, we may not always see the fruit of our labor immediately, but we can trust that God is at work in the lives of our children, even when we can’t see it.

It’s clear to me now that motherhood is a calling that goes beyond a simple role—it is a sacred vocation that shapes the future. I may not yet be a mother, but I can see that the role is one of immense responsibility and profound purpose. Motherhood is a partnership with God to shape the next generation. Each mother is raising not just children, but image-bearers of God, future leaders, and world-changers.

As I reflect on my mom and all the ways she’s shaped my life, I’m reminded of Proverbs 22:6, which says, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.” This verse isn’t just for mothers, but for all who have influence over the next generation. The way my mom has modeled love, faith, and strength in Christ will have a ripple effect for generations to come.

So, to my beautiful mom, and to all mothers out there, I want to say thank you. Thank you for your sacrifices, your love, your patience, and for answering God’s call to raise His children. Your work matters. It’s not “just” raising children—it’s shaping the future for God’s glory.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of motherhood and for the example of love and strength that my mother has shown me. I pray that You continue to bless all mothers, giving them the wisdom, strength, and grace they need to raise their children in Your ways. Help me to honor them and to remember the profound impact they have on shaping the future. May we all recognize the sacred calling of motherhood and trust in Your plan for our lives. In Jesus’ name, Amen.