Tag: Holy Spirit

Blessed Beyond Measure: A Journey Into God’s Goodness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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I opened my Bible this morning to James 2:14–26, and even though I’ve read this passage many times before, something about it stirred me more deeply than usual. Maybe it was the quiet stillness of the morning, or maybe it was the way my soul has been reaching for God with such intensity lately, searching for clarity and direction. But as soon as I read, “What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions?” (James 2:14, NLT), I felt the Holy Spirit pressing gently on the places in my heart that still need refining.

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I recently stumbled upon a quote that said, “God blesses us because we respond to Him, not as a response to our good works.” I held onto that sentence like a precious jewel, because so often—even in my own walk with God—I’ve slipped into the mindset of trying to prove my transformation through what I do rather than who I’ve become in Christ. It’s so easy to confuse activity with spiritual maturity. And sometimes I wonder whether that’s why so many new believers get overwhelmed. They come into the faith with this beautiful spark of excitement, wanting so badly to honor God, but without knowing how to rest first in His love. They start volunteering, serving, signing up for everything in sight, hoping their efforts will show God they’ve changed. And then somewhere along the path, they burn out. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve felt it happen.

I think we, as the body of Christ, have unintentionally contributed to that misunderstanding. We often celebrate visible participation—the new church volunteer, the person who signs up for every ministry, the one who seems full of energy and eagerness—without first understanding where their heart is. Service is good and beautiful and holy, but service without foundation is like building a house on sand. It looks sturdy for a moment, until the first storm hits.

James is absolutely right: faith without deeds is empty. But deeds without faith are equally hollow. They may look impressive on the outside, but they don’t carry the substance of God on the inside. And that’s what struck me so strongly today—the reminder that my actions are not the proof of my faith; they are the fruit of my faith. Faith doesn’t begin with motion; it begins with surrender. It begins with falling at the feet of Jesus and whispering, “I can’t change myself. I need You to change me.”

Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I slip into the rhythm of self-powered striving, almost like a spiritual New Year’s resolution. But faith isn’t a resolution; it’s a relationship. A living, breathing relationship with a God who moves through me rather than around me. When I try to do things for God without doing them with God, everything feels heavier and harder. But when the Holy Spirit stirs something in me—when I feel that gentle tug, that nudge that seems to rise from some quiet place inside my chest—obedience feels almost effortless. It feels like stepping into a river instead of trying to dig my own well.

That’s what good works are meant to look like. Not a performance, not a checklist, not a spiritual résumé—but a response. A natural overflow of the faith God has planted in me. And I love that God invites me into His work not because He needs my help but because He wants my heart. He wants my willingness, my surrender, my trust. He wants me to participate in the blessings He is already pouring out.

When I reflect on my journey with Him, I can see moments when I acted out of pure obedience to His voice, even when I didn’t understand why. And those are the moments that changed me the most. Not because I did something impressive, but because God used my small steps to shape my heart. That’s the kind of life I want—one where my faith is alive, vibrant, and continually responding to Him.

I feel blessed beyond measure not because of what I have, but because of who He is. His goodness has followed me through seasons of joy and seasons of grief, through times of clarity and times of confusion. Every time I’ve tried to take control, He has gently reminded me that surrender is my safest place. Every time I’ve grown weary, He has whispered, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). And somehow, He always keeps His promise.

Today I prayed that He would teach me how to better encourage my brothers and sisters—not to rush into good works out of obligation, but to grow deeper in faith so that their works rise naturally from their relationship with Him. I want to be someone who reminds others of their identity in Christ before urging them toward activity. I want to show them that transformation starts with the heart, not the hands. I want to reflect Jesus in a way that draws them closer to Him, not simply closer to tasks.

And maybe that’s part of my own calling—helping others understand that God isn’t measuring their worth by their productivity. He’s looking at their hearts. He’s looking for faith that is alive, rooted, and real. Faith that breathes. Faith that trusts. Faith that produces action as naturally as a tree produces fruit in season.

As I sit here writing all of this, I realize how deeply grateful I am for the Holy Spirit’s guidance. There have been days when I felt Him nudging me toward someone who needed encouragement, or urging me to pray for a person I barely knew, or prompting me to step out in a way that stretched my comfort zone. Those moments were never born from my own willpower. They were born from His presence in me. And every time I said yes, I experienced God’s goodness in ways I never expected.

One thing I am learning, over and over, is that God doesn’t call me to do good works so that others will see how faithful I am. He calls me to do good works so they will see how faithful He is. When I respond to Him, when I let Him work through me, His love becomes visible. His compassion becomes tangible. His presence becomes undeniable. And somehow, in the midst of that, I am blessed too.

So today, Lord, I pray this from the depths of my heart:

Father, help me to always work in response to You—not from my own strength, not from my own will, but from the moving of Your Spirit within me. Teach me to recognize Your prompting and to obey with joy. Guard my heart from striving and remind me that true transformation comes only from You. Use me as a vessel of Your love, and let Your light shine through everything I do. And guide me as I walk alongside others in the body of Christ. Give me wisdom to encourage, patience to listen, and compassion to understand where their hearts truly are. Let Your living Word take root in us all, that it may grow and flourish in our lives. I ask all of this in the mighty name of Jesus, Amen.

Tonight I rest in the truth that I am blessed not because of what I do, but because of who God is—and because I get to respond to Him with a heart that is learning, growing, and trusting more every day.

Praying for Others: A Path to Spiritual Growth

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Father, as I sit to write tonight, my heart feels tender in a way I can’t fully explain. I’ve been lingering on Acts 12:5 all day: “So Peter was being kept in the prison, but the congregation was intensely praying to God for him.” There’s something so beautiful about the way the early believers united—not in panic, not in despair, but in prayer. Intense, expectant, hopeful prayer. It makes me examine the focus of my own prayer life, and honestly, Lord, I feel a gentle conviction rising in me. I see how easily I slip into bringing You my concerns first, my needs, my anxieties, my dreams. And yes, You say to cast all my cares on You (1 Peter 5:7), but I also hear You asking me to widen my gaze.

Today You asked me, “Do you pray more for yourself than for others?” And my heart whispered, “Yes… sometimes.” Not always, but more often than I want to admit. There are days I rush to pray about my job, my relationships, my future, my uncertainties—sometimes without pausing to lift up the people around me who may be carrying far heavier burdens. And then I think about Peter in that prison, and how the church didn’t stop to think about themselves—they united for him. They prayed him into freedom. They prayed with passion because they believed prayer mattered. They believed prayer moved Heaven. I want to pray like that—for others—consistently and with deep compassion.

Lord, I’m realizing that praying for others requires a softness of heart that only Your Spirit can produce. It means noticing people. It means slowing down long enough to actually see their need. It means letting my heart be moved by the pain, hopes, and longings of those around me. When Paul wrote, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2), he wasn’t offering a polite suggestion—he was laying out part of the structure of Christian community. True love isn’t passive. True love kneels. True love intercedes. True love remembers the suffering of others even when our own lives feel heavy. Lord, shape my heart into one that loves like that.

I’ve also been thinking about all the different people Scripture tells us to pray for. “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession, and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority…” (1 Timothy 2:1–2). Sometimes praying for leaders feels distant, or impersonal, or honestly… a little pointless. But Your Word says it matters. Praying for the unsaved matters. Praying for ministers of the gospel matters. Praying for the persecuted church—who right now may be sitting in prisons, like Peter once did—matters deeply. You move through intercession. You knit hearts together through intercession. You break spiritual chains through intercession. And You grow us spiritually through intercession because it pulls us out of the center of our own universe and places You there instead.

Lord, one of my greatest weaknesses is that sometimes my prayers become lists rather than conversations. I never want my relationship with You to be mechanical. I never want to treat You like a dispenser of blessings. I want to love You more than what You can give me. I want my prayers to reflect trust, surrender, and compassion—not spiritual consumerism. When I pray only for myself, my world becomes small. But when I pray for others, my world expands, because I begin to see people the way You do. Their names take on weight. Their struggles become personal. Their victories feel like my own. In praying for them, I step into their stories, and in doing that, I step closer to You, because You are always near the brokenhearted.

I think of Jesus praying for others—how He prayed for His disciples, how He prayed for all believers that would come after them (John 17), how He prayed for forgiveness for the ones crucifying Him. If the Son of God Himself prayed so earnestly for others, shouldn’t I follow that example? It humbles me, Lord. It reshapes my view of prayer entirely. Prayer isn’t just about my life being changed; it’s about Your kingdom being revealed in the lives of others. It’s about standing in the gap for someone else when they are too weary to stand on their own. It’s about being willing to be inconvenienced in my heart for the sake of loving someone the way You ask me to.

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Today, You placed specific people on my heart. A friend who is struggling silently. A family member who is drifting spiritually. A coworker who seems happy but carries deep insecurity. A young woman at church who is growing in faith but feels spiritually attacked. These people matter to You more than I can comprehend. Lord, let me be faithful to lift them up. Let me pray for them the way the early church prayed for Peter—with intensity, with unity in Spirit, with unwavering trust that You hear. Let my prayers be fueled not by duty but by genuine love.

Father, I don’t want to be someone whose prayers revolve around my own world. I want to grow into someone who instinctively lifts others up, who intercedes with joy, who sees intercession as partnership with You rather than a task on a spiritual checklist. I want to be someone who looks at the brokenness of the world and responds—not with complaint or hopelessness—but with prayer. Because prayer acknowledges that You are still working. Prayer acknowledges that nothing is impossible with You. Prayer acknowledges that You care for every need—no matter how big or small.

And now, Lord, I want to pray:

Heavenly Father, soften my heart and widen my perspective. Teach me to pray for others with sincerity and perseverance. Help me see the people around me—really see them—and lift them before Your throne. Let my prayers be shaped by Your will, guided by Your Word, and filled with compassion. Deliver me from self-centeredness in prayer. Make me an intercessor, not for my glory, but so that Your love may flow through me. Help me to obey the command to pray for all people, for leaders, for the lost, for the church, and for those who suffer for Your name. Give me a heart that kneels before it speaks, a heart that carries others’ burdens with tenderness. Lord, help me to grow spiritually through praying for others, and in all things, make me more like Jesus. Amen.

As I close this entry, my heart feels lighter, but also more aware. I see now that one of the surest ways to grow spiritually is to make prayer less about me and more about others. When I shift my focus outward—when I intercede, when I cry out for someone else’s freedom, healing, salvation, or comfort—something in me transforms. I become less self-absorbed. I become more compassionate. I become more aligned with Your heart. And Lord, that is what I long for more than anything—to have a heart that reflects Yours.

Help me, Jesus, to live this out—not just tonight, but day after day. Help me to love others deeply, pray for them boldly, and trust You completely. Amen.

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.

Lifting Up Loved Ones: Praying for Those You Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Last night, I found myself staring at the ceiling again, heart heavy and mind racing. Not because I’m burdened by my own stuff—but because I can feel the weight of the people I love. Their pain. Their questions. Their wandering. Their silence.

And honestly? It wrecks me.
I don’t want to be the girl who watches people I love slip through life without Jesus. I want to be the one who fights on her knees.

But I had to start with a hard question:
When’s the last time I actually prayed for them? Like really prayed?

Not a “Lord, bless them” kind of prayer, but the kind that pulls heaven down to earth.

God doesn’t need my passive prayers. He wants my passion. My persistence. My boldness. So here I am—learning to pray like I mean it.

1. Pray for God to soften my heart first.

This might be the most uncomfortable step—but it’s the realest one. Before I intercede for others, I have to let God break me. I don’t want to pray from a place of pride, frustration, or spiritual superiority. I want to pray from love. Period.

Lord, give me a burden. That’s an old-school word, I know. But I want it. I want my heart to hurt for what hurts Yours. Break the apathy. Remove the judgment. Let me weep for them. Let me care deeply again.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” — Ezekiel 36:26

God, make my heart flesh again. Not cold, not passive, not comfortable. Tender. Ready to move at the whisper of Your Spirit.

2. Pray just to talk about Jesus.

This isn’t about crafting the perfect speech or waiting for the ideal moment. This is about boldness. Godly, humble boldness. I don’t want my conversations to stay surface-level forever. I want opportunities to bring up eternity.

“Pray for us… that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ.” — Colossians 4:3

God, open a door. Not just in their schedule, but in their heart. Give me a moment that can’t be explained by anything but divine timing. Give me courage to walk through it when it comes. Let me be ready, not scared.

No more waiting until “the right time.” The right time is now.

3. Pray that the words of Jesus take off like wildfire.

Sometimes I think we forget just how powerful His words are. When Jesus speaks, things shift. Darkness trembles. Chains break. Hope rises. His words don’t need our help—they just need our obedience to speak them.

“Pray that the Master’s Word will simply take off and race through the country to a groundswell of response…” — 2 Thessalonians 3:1 (MSG)

Lord, let Your Word run wild in their lives. Let it chase them down in the quiet moments. Speak to them in dreams. In songs. In conversations they didn’t expect. Let the name of Jesus echo until it becomes undeniable.

4. Pray for God to heal their hearts.

Hurt people hide behind sarcasm, silence, success, or straight-up rebellion. But when someone’s going through a storm, it’s often because God is softening something deep inside.

So instead of judging their mess, I’m learning to pray into their healing.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

God, bind up their wounds. Speak peace over the chaos. Show them that You’re not afraid of their broken pieces. You’re the God who walks into storms and speaks stillness. Walk into theirs, Lord. Let them feel You.

5. Pray for endurance on my end.

Let’s be honest: it’s exhausting praying for people who seem like they don’t care. It’s frustrating watching them self-destruct while you’re begging heaven for a breakthrough. But I’ve learned this: God doesn’t call me to fix them—He calls me to pray for them.

So I will.

Even when I don’t see it.
Even when they push me away.
Even when it feels pointless.

Because faith doesn’t wait for feelings. It stands. It believes. It persists.

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” — James 5:16

So I will pray powerful, effective prayers. Not because I’m perfect. But because I’m His. And I believe He moves when His kids pray like they believe He will.

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for placing these people in my life. I don’t believe in coincidence—I believe in calling. You’ve called me to love them, serve them, and fight for them in prayer. So today, I lift them up to You.

Soften my heart, Lord. Remove pride. Give me a burden that drives me to my knees daily.
Open the doors for conversations about You—real ones, honest ones. Give me boldness to speak and wisdom to listen.

Let Your Word catch fire in their lives. Let it chase them down and wake something up inside them.
Heal their wounds. Calm their storms. Make them whole, even if they don’t know how to ask for it yet.
And when I get tired, remind me that You never give up on me. So I won’t give up on them.

I trust You, Jesus. And I believe You’re already moving.
Amen.

Prayer isn’t a last resort—it’s the first line of battle.
And I refuse to let the people I love walk through life without someone warring for them in prayer.

Even if they never know it, I’ll be the one interceding.
Because that’s what love does.

The Complete Blessing: From Spirit to Flesh

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Lord, it’s just me — raw, real, and reaching. I feel so much stirring in my spirit that I can’t just sit with it anymore. I have to write it out, wrestle with it, pray through it, speak life over myself. You’ve been pressing 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24 into my heart so deeply, it’s like it’s tattooed on my bones:

“May God Himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and He will do it.”

I read that and my heart screams, YES, LORD. DO IT! But also, God, how? How do You make me whole — spirit, soul, and body — when life feels like it’s constantly pulling me apart?

I don’t want to be a half-built house anymore, Holy Spirit. I want to be made blameless. Not just in my outward appearance or religious rituals, but truly, deeply, wholly sanctified. This isn’t about perfectionism — this is about purification.

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Let’s start with my spirit. That part of me that cries out for You when words fail, that part of me You breathed into life, the part of me that knows Your voice even when my emotions lie. You said in Ephesians 3:16 that we are “strengthened with power through His Spirit in your inner being.” Jesus, I need that strength right now. I’m not here to perform or pretend. I’m here because my spirit wants more of You. It aches when I grieve You. It gets buried when I let my flesh take the lead. But it is yours, fully and eternally. Breathe new fire in me. Fill me with the hunger that moves mountains.

And Lord, if there are parts of my spirit that are crushed — and honestly, there are — please, please come close like You promised in Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I need You near. No one else will do. Heal those broken inner places, not so I can feel good, but so I can be whole and walk worthy of Your call.

My soul? She’s a mess sometimes. She’s emotional, sensitive, reactive — but she’s also vibrant, creative, and expressive. She carries the songs I sing, the tears I cry, the joy I radiate. But she gets overwhelmed. She tries to control things that belong in Your hands. She feels everything deeply, and sometimes the pain of the world pierces her too deeply.

Lord, You said You restore our soul (Psalm 23:3). I’m holding You to that promise. Renew her. Teach her to surrender. Show her that she doesn’t have to lead; she just has to follow the spirit that follows Your Spirit. Help her get in divine alignment. I bless my soul to come under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. No more hijacking peace. No more feeding fear. Soul, be still and know that He is God.

And my body? This temple that gets overlooked unless it’s in pain or gaining weight or feeling tired? I’ve spoken so harshly to her, Lord. I’ve treated her like a workhorse instead of the sacred vessel she is. Forgive me. I bless my body to come alive in Your glory. I speak healing over her, strength into her bones, and freedom into her movements.

My body lifts hands in worship. She dances, cries, embraces, kneels. She doesn’t just carry me — she carries Your Spirit, Your purpose, Your presence. I bless her to be whole, strong, and healthy. I speak to every cell, every system, every hidden trauma — be sanctified, be healed, be whole in Jesus’ name.

This isn’t about self-help or some aesthetic “healing journey.” This is about sanctification — deep, holy, through-and-through alignment with the God of peace. It’s about being kept blameless — not because I’m flawless, but because You’re faithful. You’re the One who does the work, Lord. You will do it.

You didn’t call me to salvation only to abandon me in sanctification. You didn’t save my spirit to leave my soul and body in chaos. You’re after every part of me, and I say yes. Yes, Jesus. Sanctify me. Spirit, soul, and body. I’m not hiding any part from You.

Where I’ve let trauma speak louder than truth — silence it.
Where I’ve let exhaustion speak louder than purpose — revive me.
Where I’ve let bitterness poison my soul — cleanse me.

Take the whole of me, Lord. Make it holy. Make it whole.

And God, help me to be bold with others about this. I’m tired of surface-level Christianity. I’m not interested in cute faith or lukewarm prayers. I want to see chains break, strongholds fall, spirits awaken. I want to look people in the eye and say, “He can heal you — all of you. Spirit, soul, and body.” I want to speak with holy fire and radical compassion, not just comfort but confrontation. Not because I’m better — but because I know the One who makes us whole. I know He can do it. Because He’s doing it in me.

Even on the days I feel like I’m falling apart, You’re putting me together. So tonight, I rest in the truth that You are faithful. You are working. You will complete what You started. And when You come back, I’ll be found blameless — not because of me, but because of You.

Amen.


Unshaken: Prayers for Strength in Hard Times

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(CLICK HERE TO PRAY WITH ME FOR STRENGTH!) Please! I Need Strength Today! After What Happened Today, My Heart is Torn! Everyone’s Heart is Torn! Pray with me!

I know what it feels like to smile in public and crumble in private. I know the weight of feeling like you’re supposed to be “okay” because you’re a Christian, even when everything inside you is screaming for help.

But being a Christian doesn’t mean we don’t struggle. It means we struggle differently. It means we struggle with hope—and that’s what I want to talk about today.

I had a rough morning. If you’re reading this after August 27, 2025, then google that date so you know why I had a horrible morning. I just don’t want to get into it all.

But, I needed strength, as we all do, for whatever the reason may be.

So I whispered, “God, please give me strength.” And it wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t even confident. It was raw and desperate. But He met me there. And I want to share the prayers and verses that helped lift me up. Because if they lifted me today, I believe they can lift someone else, too.

-Prayers for God’s Strength–


“We praise you that nothing is impossible with you… In our weakness, you make us strong.”

This one hit deep. Because I don’t feel strong right now. But strength isn’t something I need to manufacture. It’s something I receive. From Him. That’s why Philippians 4:13 isn’t a motivational quote—it’s a declaration:

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

Not because I’m good. Not because I’m capable. But because He is.

-Prayer For When I’m Overwhelmed-

“You have shown me that falling is not always failing.”

This line made me cry. I’ve fallen a lot lately—emotionally, spiritually, even physically. I’ve doubted myself, second-guessed decisions, and sat in the pit of “not enough.” But God reminded me through this prayer that falling doesn’t disqualify me. He picks me up—again and again.

Isaiah 41:10 says:

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you…”

That’s not a suggestion. That’s a promise.

–Prayer For The Strength to Survive–


I felt so convicted praying this over persecuted believers. My stress feels real—but some of our brothers and sisters are dying for this faith. And yet they hold on. It humbled me. It reminded me that God isn’t just enough for small problems—He is enough for the big, life-threatening ones too.

And if He can sustain them in prisons, warzones, and underground churches, He can sustain me right here in my living room, with my messy heart and anxious mind.

–A Prayer in the Storm–


“In turbulent times… You are my strength.”

Whew. I needed that. Because my storm isn’t going away overnight. But God never promised a storm-free life—He promised to be my refuge in the storm.

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength…” – Isaiah 40:31

That’s the kind of strength I need. Not hyped-up energy. Not fake positivity. Renewed strength. Strength that lets me wait well.

I’m not the kind of Christian who sugarcoats. I’m not gonna sit here and pretend that quoting a few verses makes all my anxiety disappear. But I will tell you what does happen: my perspective changes. My posture shifts. My faith wakes up.

And I begin to remember that my feelings are real—but they’re not in charge. God is.

–Prayer For the Weary–


“Lord, I need You.”
Honestly, that could be my life motto. I need Him to help me sort through the chaos—internal and external. I need His Spirit to guide me through every “I don’t know what I’m doing” moment. And I’m tired of trying to be strong on my own.

–A Prayer for God’s Power–


“Help us not to underestimate You in our praying.”

Let that line marinate for a second. How many of us pray like God is small? Like He might help… if He’s not too busy? Nah. He’s the King of the Universe. He is not overwhelmed by my mess. He’s not afraid of my questions. He invites me to pray big prayers—and believe He’s big enough to answer them.

–Prayer For Guidance and Strength–


Right now, I need both. I need God to direct my steps and give me the energy to walk them out. It’s not enough to know the way—I need Him to walk it with me. And He does.

“Be strong and courageous… for the Lord your God goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.” – Deuteronomy 31:6

If you’re living without prayer—you’re living on fumes.


If you’re trying to be strong without God—you’re building your house on sand.

I love you too much not to say that. The world teaches us to be “self-made,” but Christianity calls us to be Spirit-led. That means putting down the fake strength and picking up His supernatural strength.


Every prayer I shared today isn’t just a “nice thought.” It’s a weapon.
A weapon for your warfare.
A weapon for your weariness.
A weapon for your tomorrow.

You’re not too far gone. You’re not too broken. You’re not too weak.
You’re right where God can show up—and show off.

So pray. Even if your voice shakes. Even if all you can say is “God, help me.” He hears. He answers. And He strengthens.

Unshaken.

Double Vision: Seeing God Clearly

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today I write with a heart full of conviction and a mind freshly awakened by God’s truth. I’ve been walking with the Lord long enough to know better—and yet He’s so loving, so gentle, so precise in His correction that I can’t help but love Him more even in the middle of being exposed. There’s something about when the Holy Spirit shines His light on a part of me that’s not aligned with the will of God. It stings, yes—but it’s also freeing. Like truth that pulls you out of a fog you didn’t realize you were in.

The Lord has whispered to me before about being double-minded. I remember the first time vividly. It felt like a gut-punch cloaked in love. I was offended. Not outright angry at God—but internally, I wrestled. I remember thinking, “Lord, surely not I?” I was sure I was sold out. My lips said it, my actions (on the surface) looked like it. I went to church, I prayed, I gave, I served. What more could He want?

But God doesn’t look at the outward appearance. “The Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)

And He saw mine.

My heart wasn’t fully surrendered. There were pockets—hidden closets—where I still sat on the throne. Where I wanted my way, my comfort, my attention, my timing. When things didn’t go the way I had hoped or planned, I grumbled inside. When people didn’t respond to me the way I wanted, I felt unseen. And isn’t that telling?

I’ve come to realize how subtle double-mindedness can be. It doesn’t always look like blatant rebellion. It can come wrapped in spiritual language, masked as maturity, or covered in Christian performance. But God knows. The double mind is divided—half surrendered, half striving. Half trusting, half controlling. Half focused on Him, half secretly asking, “But what about me?”

James 1:8 says, “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” And girl, that shook me. Unstable. Even though I smiled through it, I knew I had been living with a mind split between trust and self-protection. I said I trusted God, but when life pressed in—when I felt overlooked, rejected, or disappointed—what came out was telling. Bitterness. Jealousy. Entitlement. Not always outwardly, but inwardly for sure.

Just last week, I had a moment. I was about to meet up with someone, and I felt this urge to be seen—to say something clever, or deep, or “impressive.” I wanted them to notice me. Like a child jumping up and down shouting, “Look at me! Look at what I can do!” But before I spoke, the Holy Spirit gently interrupted.

He said, “Give that thought to Me.”

And I did.

I paused. I breathed. I surrendered that moment—not because I’m holy, but because I’m learning to recognize when it’s about me instead of about Him.

And when I gave it to Jesus, peace came. The striving stopped. The ego sat down. And somehow—miraculously—it felt easier to just be present, to listen, to respond with wisdom that wasn’t mine. The person asked me a question, and I could sense that Jesus answered through me. Not in some dramatic, super-spiritual way—but with a quiet confidence that didn’t demand attention.

That’s what humility looks like when God births it in you. And trust me, it’s not something I naturally possess.

The world screams: “Promote yourself. Assert yourself. Take up space.” But Jesus says, “Deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow Me.” (Luke 9:23)

That’s the paradox of the Kingdom.

I’m not here to be glorified. I’m here to glorify Him. I’m not here to be known. I’m here to make Him known. That’s the shift I’m learning to live out—not perfectly, but intentionally.

And here’s what’s wild—when I lose myself in Him, I find more peace than I ever did trying to make people notice me. When I humble myself, He really does lift me up, in the ways that actually matter. (James 4:10)

That’s why I want to keep coming closer. Not because I’ve mastered it. Not because I’ve figured it all out. But because His nearness is my good. (Psalm 73:28)

I long for His presence—not as a reward for good behavior, but as my daily necessity. I want to abide, not just visit. I want to live in the safety of full surrender. Because when I really submit every thought, every ambition, every desire to Him—that’s where I find peace. That’s where I find clarity.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8)

And that’s what I want—to see God clearly. No more double vision. No more blurry faith. Just Jesus, front and center, and everything else falling in line behind Him.

So here’s my prayer today:

Father God,

You know me. Fully. And still, You love me deeply. Thank You for Your patience and correction. Forgive me for the ways I’ve been divided—saying I trust You while still clutching control. I surrender again, even the hidden things.

Lord Jesus, be the only King on the throne of my heart. Let no desire rise above You. Help me to see when pride creeps in, and teach me to choose humility—not to be overlooked, but to make You unmistakably visible.

Holy Spirit, make me sensitive to Your whispers. Remind me when I start performing. Teach me to rest in who I am in You, not who I’m trying to be for others.

Draw me nearer, God. I want to see You clearly—with a single heart, a single mind, and a single focus: Your glory.

Amen.

Divine Plot Twist: God’s Way of Turning Things Around

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Yesterday was one of those days where everything felt like it was falling apart, and yet, somehow, I still heard the Holy Spirit whisper: “I’m not finished yet.” And I believe Him. I really do. Even if it feels like it’s too late in the natural. Even if it seems like the damage is done, and there’s no way forward. I know better. I know the glory of God.

But being honest? It looked impossible yesterday. I caught myself staring at a situation in my life that’s been spiraling for months—something I thought would work out by now, something I prayed over, cried about, trusted for—and nothing. Still broken. Still barren. Still… not what I imagined.

I felt that lump in my throat rise up again. That familiar whisper from the enemy: “It’s too late now.”
But God.


Romans 8:28 says, “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. Not just the pretty parts. Not just the wins. But the mess, the shame, the silence, the heartbreak, the failures—even the things that feel too far gone.

Today, I’m choosing to confront this unbelief in my heart. I’m not pretending like I’m okay when I’m not. That’s not faith. That’s denial. And I’m done hiding my disappointments in the back of the closet, like God doesn’t already see them. He sees it all. And still, He chooses to redeem.

God, I believe You can turn this around. I believe it, even when I don’t feel it. I believe it, even when the timeline has passed and the doors seem shut. You are not bound by time, space, or circumstances. You step into the grave and call forth life. You still roll stones away.

John 11:40 says, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

Sometimes I forget how much You love showing up when the situation looks dead. Like with Lazarus. Everyone else was weeping. Everyone else had given up. But You walked straight into that moment with resurrection power.

That’s who You are.

I’ve got a “Lazarus situation” in my life right now, Lord. It’s past the point of fixing, humanly speaking. But I believe You specialize in the impossible. And I’m not asking You to sprinkle fairy dust over my problems—I’m asking You to show Your glory in a way that only You can. Do what no therapy session, no paycheck, no person could ever do. Turn it around for Your glory.

Isaiah 43:19 says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

If You can make rivers in the desert, You can make a miracle out of this.

There’s a fire in me today—not anger, but holy frustration. I’m not mad at You, God. I’m mad at the lies I’ve believed about You. Mad at how often I shrink Your power down to fit inside the limits of what I can see and understand. I’m done doing that. You are GOD. There is no one like You.

So here I am—heart wide open. If it takes me crying again, I’ll cry. If it takes me praying the same prayer again, I’ll pray it. If it takes waiting longer, I’ll wait. But I’m not giving up. Because You haven’t given up on me.

Genesis 50:20 says, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

That part—“God intended it for good”—is ringing in my soul tonight. He can take what the enemy meant for evil and flip it. That means nothing is wasted. That means no pain is pointless. That means God can use even this.

Jesus, if this trial leads to a deeper testimony, I say yes. If this battle ends up blessing someone else down the road, I say yes. If this detour is really divine, I say yes.

But I ask, Lord—redeem it. Don’t just heal me—use me. Use my broken pieces to build something beautiful. Use my silence to create a louder song. Use this dark chapter to illuminate Your light.

Father, in the name of Jesus, I pray with full confidence: breathe life into what seems dead. Reverse what looks irreversible. Heal what feels hopeless. Shift what’s stuck. And give me the faith to stand, even while I wait.

Remind my soul that You are still moving. Even when the door closes. Even when the test comes back positive. Even when the person walks away. Even when it all looks like it’s over.

God, I trust You to turn it around. You’re not late. You’re strategic. You’re setting the stage. And I believe that when You move, it won’t just be good—it’ll be glorious.

So I’ll keep praising You now, in the middle. I’ll keep writing these prayers with tear-stained pages. I’ll keep holding on. Because I know who You are. And I know how You work.

What the enemy meant for harm—You’re going to use for GOOD.

So tonight, I rest in that truth. Not because I understand everything… but because I trust the One who does.

Amen.

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Yesterday, Today, Forever: Jesus Never Changing, Always Reigning

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This summer has been one of those summers where the world feels like it ‘was’s sprinting past me—faster than I could even begin to process. Social media keeps changing. Relationships keep shifting. People come and go. My job feels like it demands more and more, yet gives back less. My body—this temple of the Holy Spirit—feels like it’s already starting to wear down. And still, in the midst of the chaos, the noise, the comparison, the constant “be more, do more” energy, I found myself anchored in one simple truth:

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” – Hebrews 13:8

I memorized that verse when I was maybe ten. Back then it was just words. A nice saying on a Sunday school wall or written inside a greeting card. But now? At this age, with everything I’ve seen, felt, and gone through, this verse is not just a line—it’s a lifeline. A hand I hold onto when I feel like I’m drowning in the unpredictability of this life.

And I’m not just writing this to encourage myself. I’m writing this as a reminder, a challenge even, to anyone who claims the name of Jesus but is walking around like they’ve forgotten who He is. Because if we truly believe that Jesus Christ never changes, then why are so many of us walking in fear? In compromise? In anxiety, as if we’ve got no Rock to stand on?

I’m tired of sugarcoating it.
I’m tired of pretending like it’s okay that people who profess Jesus act like He’s only reliable when things are going their way. When life turns, and storms hit—and they always do—suddenly we question everything. But here’s the truth that won’t change no matter how we feel:

“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.” — Malachi 3:6

That’s who He is. He doesn’t shift with the trends. He doesn’t leave when we mess up. He doesn’t grow tired of us when we’re in our feelings. We’re not consumed because His mercy remains. That alone should drive us to our knees in gratitude.

Today I had a conversation with a friend—well, maybe more like a confrontation. She’s been drifting, and I love her too much to stay silent. She said, “God just feels so far right now,” and I asked her straight up, “Did He move, or did you?” I wasn’t trying to be harsh, but I’m so done watching people trade in the unshakable for the temporary and then wonder why their life is in shambles.

We have a generation obsessed with “finding themselves,” chasing vibes, and redefining truth—but Jesus doesn’t need rebranding. He is who He has always been. He is not a trend. He is not an option. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6). Period.

Personal Prayer:

Jesus, my anchor, thank You for never changing. When everything around me shifts, You remain the same. When I am inconsistent, You are faithful. When I am weak, You are strong. When my heart is confused, Your truth is clear. I repent for the times I’ve tried to find stability in things that were never meant to hold me. Remind me every single day that You are the same God who walked with Abraham, sat with the woman at the well, healed the blind, and conquered death. You are the same God who walks with me. Thank You, Lord. In Your name I pray, amen.

The truth is, consistency is rare now. Even people’s morals shift depending on the crowd they’re with. But God’s Word doesn’t change to fit in. It changes us so we no longer fit into the brokenness of this world.

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” — Isaiah 40:8

Why do we chase what fades, when we have the eternal? Why do we keep putting our security in people who change like the weather, in trends that evaporate, in status that can disappear with one mistake? It’s a trap. And I’ve fallen into it too. But I’m learning—slowly, painfully, beautifully—that nothing satisfies like Jesus. And He is exactly who He’s always been.

Even when I questioned Him.
Even when I doubted myself.
Even when I let anxiety win.
Even when I ran.
Even when I shut everyone out.

He stayed.

“If we are faithless, He remains faithful—for He cannot deny Himself.” — 2 Timothy 2:13

It’s not just comforting—it’s confronting. Because if Jesus never changes, then my excuses fall flat. I can’t say, “God understands my sin because I’m going through a lot right now.” I can’t say, “Well, things are different now, it’s a different culture.” He’s not a passive spectator. He is holy, and He calls me to be holy too (1 Peter 1:16).

This doesn’t mean perfection. But it does mean pursuit. Pursuit of righteousness. Pursuit of truth. Pursuit of Him. Because I know who He is—and He has never changed His pursuit of me.

There’s such rest in knowing that Jesus isn’t moody. He doesn’t ghost me when I’m messy. He doesn’t roll His eyes at my prayers. He doesn’t withhold love because I didn’t perform right. No. That’s human behavior, not divine.

And when I feel overwhelmed by all that’s broken—my family, my community, the world—I remember that He’s already seen it all. And He hasn’t changed His plans.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” — James 1:17

Lord, You are the gift I don’t deserve.
You are the peace I can’t explain.
You are the strength when I can’t get up.
You are the fire that never goes out.
You are my stillness when the world spins wild.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll outgrow this faith. That someday I’ll become numb or indifferent like so many others. But then I remember—it’s not about me holding on to Him. It’s about Him holding on to me.

And He never lets go.

To anyone reading this—maybe years from now, maybe when I’m not even here anymore—if you ever feel lost, if you ever feel like you can’t trust anyone or anything… remember this:

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.
He was enough for me.
He is enough for you.
And He will be enough, even when everything else fades.

Closing Prayer:

Father God, in a world full of instability, thank You for being the Rock I can stand on. Thank You for Your Son, Jesus, who never changes, who never fails, who never stops loving me. Give me courage to live boldly, love deeply, and speak truthfully. Help me be a reflection of Your consistency in an inconsistent world. Let me never forget what You’ve done, who You are, and that You are not finished with me yet.
In Jesus’ unchanging name, amen.

Even when the world is unrecognizable, I can recognize Him.
Even when I don’t know what tomorrow looks like—I know who holds it.
Even when I am not enough—He is.

Jesus Christ never changes. And that changes everything.

Why Do the 10 Commandments Scare Liberals and Atheists?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can’t seem to stop thinking about the world around me and how far we’ve drifted from God. I was scrolling through the news this morning while sipping my coffee, and I saw another story about how public schools are being pressured to ban displays of the Ten Commandments. Again. It breaks my heart. What’s happening to our nation?

I’m 25. I was raised in a Christian home. I’ve never doubted that the Bible is the Word of God and that Jesus Christ is Lord. But more and more, I feel like I’m living in a world where loving God openly is seen as controversial—or even offensive.

Why do the Ten Commandments scare liberals and atheists so much? Why do they fight so hard to keep them out of schools, out of courthouses, off of walls, and out of sight?

The Ten Commandments are not hateful. They don’t incite violence. They don’t promote division. They are a simple, powerful list of God’s moral expectations for us. They’re good. They’re righteous. And I truly believe they are exactly what our nation needs right now.

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“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.” — Proverbs 9:10

I keep going back to that verse, and I wonder: is that what this is really about? Are people afraid of the wisdom that comes from fearing God? Maybe they don’t want to be reminded that there is a higher authority—Someone greater than themselves. We live in a culture that tells us to be our own gods. To follow our truth. To reject anything absolute. But God’s commandments are absolute. They don’t change with the times. They don’t bend to public opinion.

“You shall have no other gods before Me.” — Exodus 20:3

Isn’t that the first issue? We’ve created a society that worships self. We idolize fame, success, sexuality, independence, and human reasoning. That’s probably why the Ten Commandments feel like a threat to people who don’t believe in God or who follow secular or liberal ideologies. God’s commandments call out sin. They expose the parts of ourselves we’d rather keep hidden. And no one likes to be told they’re wrong.

Even for me—someone who believes wholeheartedly—there are times when God’s commandments are convicting. I read them and realize how far I fall short. But that’s the point. They’re meant to lead us to repentance and to Jesus, who fulfilled the Law perfectly.

A Prayer:

Lord Jesus, thank You for Your perfect law that teaches us right from wrong. Thank You that when we fall short, You offer us grace and salvation through Your sacrifice. Help me, Lord, to never be ashamed of Your Word. Give me courage to stand for truth even when the world mocks it. Amen.

I think liberals especially see the Ten Commandments as “imposing religion.” They argue that schools are supposed to be neutral, but the truth is, they’re not neutral anymore. They promote secular ideologies all the time—like gender identity theory, moral relativism, and humanism. Those are belief systems. They just don’t want God to have a place.

Atheists, on the other hand, often argue that morality doesn’t require religion. But I wonder—if there’s no God, then what’s the foundation for good and evil? Who gets to decide what’s right and wrong? Without an objective standard, everything becomes subjective. That’s what we’re seeing now. A generation of young people raised to believe there are no absolute truths—and we wonder why society feels chaotic.

“Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” — Judges 21:25

That verse feels like a perfect summary of modern culture. When people reject God’s commands, they end up creating their own. And those man-made rules constantly shift based on feelings, trends, and popular opinion.

I remember learning the Ten Commandments in Sunday school as a little girl. I still remember the colorful poster on the wall:

  1. No other gods
  2. No idols
  3. Don’t misuse God’s name
  4. Keep the Sabbath holy
  5. Honor your parents
  6. Don’t murder
  7. Don’t commit adultery
  8. Don’t steal
  9. Don’t lie
  10. Don’t covet

There is nothing harmful in these commands. In fact, if everyone just lived by even half of them, the world would be a better place. Less crime. Less cheating. Less greed. Less selfishness.

“For this is the love of God, that we keep His commandments. And His commandments are not burdensome.” — 1 John 5:3

God never gave us these laws to control us or to make us feel small. He gave them because He loves us. He wants to protect us—from each other and from ourselves.

So when I see people fighting so hard to remove the Ten Commandments from public view, I don’t see that as strength—I see it as fear. They’re afraid of truth. Afraid of conviction. Afraid of accountability.

But more than anything, I think they’re afraid of surrender.

Because once you admit there’s a God, you have to reckon with the fact that you are not Him. And that means you need saving.

A Prayer:

Father God, I lift up this nation to You. We’ve strayed so far from Your truth. So many hearts are hardened. So many minds are deceived. But I know nothing is too hard for You. Lord, open the eyes of the lost. Let Your Word go forth boldly in schools, in homes, in churches, and in government. Let revival begin, even if it starts with just a few faithful hearts. Let it start with me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I don’t write all this because I think I’m better than anyone else. I’m not. I’m just a sinner saved by grace. But I can’t stay silent anymore. I can’t keep watching the world fall apart while Christians are told to stay quiet, to be “tolerant,” to keep our beliefs to ourselves.

The Ten Commandments aren’t hate speech. They’re God’s loving boundaries. And the more we ignore them, the more damage we cause. That’s not just theory—I see it in the brokenness around me. Broken families. Confused kids. Violence. Addiction. Anxiety. So much of it is spiritual.

God’s law isn’t outdated—it’s timeless. He knew what humanity would need, even thousands of years later. We keep trying to reinvent the wheel, but all we do is make it wobblier.

“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people.” — Proverbs 14:34

We need righteousness again. We need to lift up God’s truth—not hide it away like it’s shameful.

So tonight, I’m praying boldly. I’m asking God to give Christians courage. To give school leaders wisdom. To give lawmakers conviction. And to give lost hearts a hunger for something real.

Because nothing is more real than God.

Final Prayer:

Lord, I know You are still on the throne. No court ruling, no social trend, no political movement can dethrone You. Help me trust in Your plan. Help me be a light in this dark world. And help me never be ashamed of the gospel or the commandments that reflect Your holy character. Give me grace to speak truth in love. And give me strength to stand, even if I stand alone. I love You, Lord. I trust You with my life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.