Tag: Holy Spirit

Angels at My Side: Divine Protection in Psalm 91

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

There’s something about psalm 91 that grips my soul so tightly — like God Himself is wrapping me in His arms and saying, “You’re safe here.” And honestly, I needed that reassurance today.

The world feels… loud. Chaotic. Dangerous even. Fear has been creeping around the edges of my mind lately — fears about the future, my safety, the unknown. But then I read:

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”
— Psalm 91:1

That line stopped me in my tracks. There’s a secret place with God — a place not everyone chooses to live in, but it’s always available to us. A place of peace that the world can’t touch. And the word “abide” — it’s not a temporary visit. It’s home. God wants me to dwell in Him, not just run to Him in crisis.

Lately, I’ve been rushing through my time with Him, praying with distracted thoughts, reading Scripture with one eye on my to-do list. But Psalm 91 isn’t about quick, surface-level faith. It’s about abiding. Living. Resting. Trusting.

Prayer #1: A Prayer to Dwell Deeply in God

Father,


I want to dwell in Your secret place — to live, move, and breathe in Your presence daily. Pull me in deeper. I don’t want to just visit You on Sundays or when I’m afraid. I want to abide under the shadow of the Almighty every moment of my life.


Teach me to build my home in You, not in the comfort of circumstances or the illusion of control.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I continued reading, and my heart leapt again:

“I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.’”
— Psalm 91:2

My God. My refuge. My fortress. Not someone else’s. Not a distant deity, but a personal protector.

And yet, sometimes I still struggle to fully believe I’m protected. That I’m safe. Not because God isn’t able — I know He is — but because I wrestle with feeling worthy of His protection.

But He’s never asked me to be worthy — only willing to trust.

Prayer #2: A Prayer of Trust

Lord Jesus,


I choose to say it out loud today: You are my refuge and my fortress. I trust You. Even when I feel afraid. Even when the world shakes. Even when the enemy whispers lies.
You are stronger. You are greater. You are my shield.


Cover me in Your truth and help me walk in confidence, not fear.


In Your mighty name, Amen.

As I kept reading, I felt a blanket of peace fall over my heart:

“He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler.”
— Psalm 91:4

The image of God having wings — it’s so tender, so gentle. Not just powerful, but safe. Like a mama bird guarding her babies, fierce and loving all at once.

I closed my eyes and pictured myself under those wings — hidden, unseen by danger, wrapped in love.

Truth is, I’m not immune to fear. Some nights I wake up and feel the weight of anxiety pressing on my chest. But Psalm 91 reminds me that God’s presence is more than a comforting idea. It’s a fortress. A place I can physically retreat to in my spirit.

“You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day…”
— Psalm 91:5

Those verses feel like they were written for me.

Prayer #3: A Prayer for Nighttime Peace

Heavenly Father,


When the night feels long and fear creeps in, let me rest under Your wings.
Silence the voice of anxiety and remind me of Your truth.


Cover my mind with peace and let me sleep knowing I am loved, seen, and protected.
You do not slumber, so I can.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Sometimes I wonder: How many battles has God fought for me that I never even saw?

How many accidents were prevented, how many spiritual attacks deflected, how many close calls diverted — all because of His hand over my life?

Psalm 91 says:

“For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways.”
— Psalm 91:11

God commands angels concerning me. That blows my mind. Not because I’m special — but because He is. Because His love is that intimate. That fierce. That real.

I’ve felt moments — strange moments — where I know something unseen was watching over me. A delayed flight that saved me from something I’ll never know. A gut feeling that kept me from driving a certain route. A narrow escape from a toxic relationship. I see His fingerprints all over my past, even when I didn’t recognize them at the time.

Prayer #4: A Prayer of Gratitude for Protection

Heavenly Father,


Thank You for protecting me — in ways I see, and in countless ways I never will.
Thank You for sending angels to guard me. For orchestrating divine detours. For being ahead of me and behind me, hemming me in with Your love.
I’m safe, not because I’m lucky, but because I’m Yours.


Thank You, Jesus. Amen.

The final verses of the psalm are God’s direct promise — and they took my breath away:

“Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My name.”
— Psalm 91:14

“He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him.”
— Psalm 91:15

“With long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation.”
— Psalm 91:16

These verses are God’s voice — not David’s. Not a psalmist. God Himself is speaking. And it’s so personal. Because she has set her love upon Me… because she knows My name… because she calls on Me…

That’s me. That’s my story. I know His name. I love Him. I call upon Him. And He promises to answer.

He never said trouble wouldn’t come. He said, “I will be with her in trouble.” And honestly, that’s even better. Because I don’t want a life without trouble if it means a life without Jesus.

Prayer #5: A Prayer to Know God’s Presence in Trouble

Loving Father,


You never promised a life without pain, but You promised never to leave me in it.
You promised to be with me in the fire, in the storm, in the valley.


So even when trouble comes, I won’t fear. You are my Deliverer, my Defender, my Salvation.
Draw near to me. Let me feel Your presence more than I feel the pressure around me.


I trust You with my life — now and forever.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.

I feel wrapped in something holy. Not because my circumstances changed — but because I remembered who God is.

Psalm 91 is not a magic shield from all harm. It’s a promise of God’s presence, God’s priority, and God’s peace in my life. It’s about knowing where to run, not just when danger strikes, but every single day.

It’s about trusting not just in what God can do, but in who God is.

He is my secret place.
He is my shadow.
He is my refuge.
He is my wings.
He is my home.

Scriptures to Reflect On Tonight:

  • Psalm 91 (the whole chapter — it’s that good)
  • Proverbs 18:10 — “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.”
  • Isaiah 41:10 — “Fear not, for I am with you…”
  • Romans 8:31 — “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

Thank You, God, for the angels at my side, the peace in my soul, and the secret place where I am always known, always safe, and always loved.

Loving the Unlovable (Help Me God)

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord,

Some days I wonder why You allow certain people in my life — the ones who seem to make my spirit cringe, who mock what is sacred to me, or who just constantly seem… difficult. The ones I might never say it about out loud, but who I sometimes label in my heart as unlovable.

Tonight, I’m asking myself a question I’ve been avoiding:
If I refuse to love the unlovable… do I really love You?

That’s a hard thing to admit. But Your Word is direct, and You don’t allow me to sit comfortably in my “good intentions.” You ask for my whole heart — including the way I treat the people who test it the most.

Your Word in 1 John 4:20-21 pierced me again tonight:

“If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from Him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.”

God, I say I love You — and I mean it. I really do. My whole life is Yours. But if I’m being honest, there are people I’ve emotionally written off. I avoid them, criticize them in my mind, get irritated every time I see them or hear their voice. They don’t know You, and some even mock You openly — and it makes me feel awkward, angry, or even afraid.

But You didn’t give me permission to retreat from them.

You didn’t call me to love only when it’s easy.
You didn’t say, “Love your neighbor unless they disagree with you.”
You didn’t say, “Be kind only to those who understand you.”

You said:

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” – Matthew 5:44

You said:

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” – Luke 6:36

You commanded me to love — not because they deserve it, but because You loved me first, undeservedly.

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

So Lord, how can I withhold love from someone else when You never withheld it from me?

I think what scares me is how much I still let my emotions lead. When someone offends me or behaves in a way that feels “godless,” I immediately feel this wall go up. I want to protect myself. I want to distance myself. But maybe You allow these people into my life not to torment me — but to transform me.

God, shape my heart into Yours.

Let me not be quick to take offense, but quick to offer grace.
Let me not retreat into silence, but speak with patience and wisdom.
Let me not feel superior, but humbled that I even know You at all.

Because the truth is, the only difference between me and someone who irritates or mocks or rejects You… is grace. That’s it. I didn’t earn it. I didn’t achieve salvation. I was rescued. And I want others to be rescued, too — even those who right now feel impossible to love.

Soften my heart, Lord.

Help me remember that people are not projects or problems — they are souls. Souls You formed. Souls You long to save. Even the rude ones. Even the loud ones. Even the dismissive, arrogant, or sarcastic ones.

“The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise… He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” – 2 Peter 3:9

If You are patient, how can I not be?

Lord, here is my prayer tonight:

Father,
Help me to love those who test me.
Help me to see them through Your eyes.
Not as obstacles in my day, but opportunities for grace.
Let my irritation become intercession.
Let my distance become compassion.
Let my judgments be replaced with prayers.

I surrender the “right” to be offended.
I surrender the tendency to retreat.
I surrender my pride that tells me I’m better.
I just want to love like Jesus.

Let my heart be soft but strong.
Let my words be gentle but rooted in truth.
Let me reflect You, not just when it’s easy — but especially when it’s not.
Amen.

Lord, loving the unlovable might be one of the greatest tests of true discipleship. You said people would know we are Yours not by how much we know, or how well we argue, or how holy we look — but by how we love.

“By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” – John 13:35

I want to be Your disciple. I want my life to bear the fruit of Your Spirit, not just when I’m alone with You, but in the tension of real relationships — in the messy, uncomfortable, unpredictable places.

Because honestly, that’s where Your love shines brightest — in the places where mine falls short.

I may never feel a natural affection for some people. That’s okay. You’re not asking for fake smiles or surface-level niceness. You’re asking for sacrificial love — a choice. An obedience. A heart posture that says, “I will love them because You love me. I will love them because You love them.”

It’s humbling, but I think that’s the point. The more I die to myself in these small, daily acts of love, the more I reflect the image of Christ.

So tomorrow, Lord, help me take one step closer to that kind of love.

Help me:

  • Speak kindly when I want to be silent.
  • Stay present when I want to walk away.
  • Pray instead of grumble.
  • Offer grace instead of sarcasm.
  • Remember that loving the unlovable is not weakness — it’s warfare.

Holy Spirit, fill me. I cannot do this on my own. I will burn out quickly without Your help. But with You, I can become more than just a “nice person” — I can become a light in darkness, a living testimony of Your mercy, and a vessel of Your love.

And maybe… just maybe… my love, flawed and growing as it is, might point someone toward You.

Let that be my legacy.
Not perfection.
Not popularity.
Just love.
Love rooted in You.

Living Without Lies: A Christian’s Duty to Speak Truth

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can feel the Lord’s presence, and it comforts me more than I can explain. My heart is full, but there’s also this lingering conviction I can’t ignore. God has been pressing something on me all day, through my quiet time this morning, my conversation with a friend over coffee, and even during that awkward moment at work when I laughed at something I knew I shouldn’t have. I think I’m finally understanding: God is calling me to a deeper honesty. Not just the absence of lying… but full, raw, truthfulness—in all things.

I don’t know why it hit so hard this morning. Maybe because I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty honest person. I don’t steal, I don’t tell outrageous lies, I don’t deceive people—at least not on purpose. But honesty isn’t just about not lying, is it?

It’s about integrity. Transparency. Vulnerability.
And I think I’ve been cutting corners with all three.

Ephesians 4:25:
“Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.”

That verse wouldn’t let go of me. It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command. If I’m part of Your body, if I represent Christ, then I don’t have the option to hide behind half-truths, people-pleasing, or pretending I’m okay when I’m not. You’ve commanded me—not recommended—to speak truthfully.

I think about how often I smile and say “I’m good” when I’m not. How I keep things from my family so they won’t worry. Or how I try to clean myself up emotionally before I come to You in prayer, like I need to get my act together first. But that’s not what You want, is it?

You want me real. And raw. Even messy.

Prayer:
God, forgive me for the ways I’ve hidden behind niceties or avoided uncomfortable truths. I want to be honest—with You, with the people I love, and even with myself. Thank You that I don’t have to pretend with You. You already know me inside out (Psalm 139:1-4). Help me walk in truth, even when it costs me pride or comfort. Amen.

I think the hardest thing for me right now is being honest with myself about where I’m still growing. About the areas I try to gloss over or rationalize. Like how I sometimes water down conversations about You when I’m around people who don’t believe. Or when I make excuses for not spending time in the Word because I’m “too tired” when really, I just don’t feel like facing conviction.

But You’ve reminded me over and over again: Honesty is the foundation of relationship.
You can’t have intimacy with someone you’re constantly trying to impress or hide from.

That’s why being honest with GOD matters so much. Because if I can’t be truthful my creator… how could I ever expect to be truthful with others about God’s presence in my life?

I remembered what David wrote in Psalm 51:6:
“Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.”

Truth in the inward parts. That’s deep.
That’s not just honesty in what I say—it’s honesty in how I live. Honesty in my motivations. In my worship. In my repentance.

And the amazing part is… when I bring that truth to You, You don’t reject me. You refine me. You heal me.

Prayer:
Jesus, You are the Truth (John 14:6). Make me like You. Let truth dwell so deeply in me that it transforms how I live and love. Guard my mouth from deceit. Teach me to love truth even when it’s hard. Give me courage to speak it in love to others (Ephesians 4:15), and grace when others speak truth to me. Amen.

I talked to Sarah about this over coffee today. She admitted she’s been struggling too—especially with how hard it is to be honest with non-Christian friends about what we believe. It’s tempting to soften the edges of the gospel to make it more palatable. But You didn’t call us to be popular, Lord. You called us to be faithful.

Proverbs 12:22 says:
“The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy.”

I want to be someone You delight in. Not someone who plays it safe or dances around truth to avoid awkwardness.

I think about how Jesus spoke truth everywhere He went. And not just comfortable truth. He called out hypocrisy. He told people to repent. He even challenged His closest friends when they were out of line. And yet, people still followed Him—because He was full of grace and truth (John 1:14). I want that balance in my own life.

I don’t want to be harsh or self-righteous. But I don’t want to be lukewarm or vague either. The world doesn’t need another nice girl who’s too scared to talk about Jesus. The world needs light. The world needs truth. The world needs You.

So Lord, help me to be honest—really honest—about who You are, what You’ve done in my life, and what it means to follow You. Let my testimony be filled with truth, even if it’s messy. Even if it’s awkward. Even if it makes people uncomfortable. Because the truth is the only thing that can set people free (John 8:32).

Prayer:
God, give me holy boldness. Make me brave enough to be honest when I share the gospel. Help me love people enough to tell them the truth, even if it costs me something. Fill my heart with compassion, not compromise. Let my life point to You in truth and love. Amen.

I can’t believe how much God has shown me today. God never stops pursuing my heart. And even when God corrects me, it feels like love. Thank You for being so patient with me Lord. Thank You for caring more about my soul than my comfort.

I know this journey won’t be easy. There will be moments I’ll want to shrink back or stay quiet. But I also know God promised to be with me.

Isaiah 41:10 says:
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

That’s all I need to keep walking in truth.
The Lord will strengthen me.
God helps me.
God holds me up.

So here I am, Lord.
All of me.
The good, the messy, the in-between.

No pretending. No performing.
Just me.
Just truth.
Just Yours.

Final Prayer:
God, thank You for calling me to truth—not to shame me, but to free me. Thank You that honesty leads to healing, intimacy, and growth. Make me a woman of integrity. A woman of Your Word. A woman unafraid of truth because I know who holds it. Use my honesty to glorify You and to point others to the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. In Jesus’ holy name, Amen.

Thank you, Lord.
I love You more than anything.
And today… I love You with honesty.

Trusting in God’s Delay: A Journey of Waiting

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve said it out loud a few times already this week, and today especially, by whispering it in my head more times than I can count, but waiting on God can be hard.

It’s not just hard — it’s exhausting, confusing, and sometimes even painful. I think today it hit me more than usual because I’ve been trying to keep it all together, to not let the heaviness of waiting seep into everything else I’m doing. But it’s there. Quiet, lingering, heavy.

I read Galatians 5:5 again this morning, and something about it gripped my heart in a fresh way:
“For through the Spirit we eagerly await by faith the righteousness for which we hope.”

Through the Spirit. By faith. That’s it. That’s the key that I keep forgetting in all of this.

It’s not up to me to muster up the strength to wait with grace. It’s not about how “strong” I am or how long I can grit my teeth through stubborn family issues or unanswered prayers. The Holy Spirit enables me to wait. HE gives me the power to endure, to trust, and to stay grounded when everything in me just wants to fix things or run away from the tension.

Waiting is hard. But it’s also holy.

Today I thought a lot about my family — the situations that have been going on for years. The ones that never seem to budge. The same arguments. The same silence. The same hurt passed back and forth like it’s inherited. These are the places in my life where waiting feels the most unbearable. Not because I don’t believe God can move — I do — but because the wait has been so long, and I can’t see how it ends.

And yet…
Romans 8:25 says, “But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”

I’m trying, Lord. Truly. I want to wait patiently. But sometimes I feel like I’m barely hanging on.

It’s strange how waiting has become its own form of spiritual training. Like God has invited me to sit in this invisible classroom where the Holy Spirit is the quiet Teacher, whispering truth to me when I want to scream, “Is it time yet?”

I keep being reminded that waiting isn’t wasted. Waiting is an invitation to stillness — to lean into His presence rather than constantly asking for His provision. It’s like He’s saying, “Be still, daughter. I’m working, even when you can’t see it.”

Stillness.
That word has taken on new meaning lately.

Stillness isn’t passive. It’s not “doing nothing.” It’s active surrender. It’s choosing not to run ahead of God, not to manipulate outcomes, not to pick up what I’ve already laid down at the altar a hundred times.

I want to be a woman who waits well — not because I have the strength on my own, but because the Spirit of God in me is doing the deep, refining work of shaping my character in the waiting. That’s where the transformation happens. Not after the miracle, but before, in the soil of patience, trust, and surrender.

Lord,
I don’t want to waste this wait.
Help me not just to survive it, but to let it sanctify me.
Help me to see You in the silence.
Help me to remember that Your timeline is good, even when mine is screaming, “Now!”

Psalm 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
I feel the Lord reminding me that “taking heart” is not ignoring how I feel — it’s choosing to trust Him through those feelings.

So tonight, here’s my honest prayer:

A Prayer While I Wait

Holy Spirit,
Thank You for dwelling within me — for being my Helper when I feel helpless. You see my heart, my struggles, my questions, and my tears. You know how deeply I long for restoration in my family, for peace that doesn’t feel forced, for healing that lasts. I lay all that before You again tonight. Not with clenched fists, but open hands. Because I’m learning that surrender doesn’t mean giving up — it means giving to You.

Jesus, be my strength in the wait. Teach me to lean on You, to grow in grace, and to draw near to You when everything around me feels stuck or silent. I don’t want to wait in bitterness. I want to wait in faith. Let this waiting not just shape my circumstances, but shape me into the woman You’ve called me to be — humble, patient, and full of Your Spirit.

Amen.

There’s something so comforting about the fact that Jesus waited too. He waited 30 years before He began His public ministry. He waited for God’s perfect timing. He didn’t rush ahead or try to impress people into believing who He was. He trusted.

And the more I reflect on that, the more I realize that waiting is deeply tied to trust.

If I say I trust God, then I also have to trust His timing — even when it feels unbearable. Even when it looks like nothing is changing. Even when people I love are stuck in cycles of dysfunction that I can’t rescue them from.

And the wild thing is… while I wait, He’s working.
Always.
Even in the silence.

Isaiah 64:4 says, “Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.”

That’s who He is. He acts on behalf of His children. He doesn’t forget us in the waiting room. He sits with us there.

Tonight, as I stare out my window and look up at the night sky, I’m reminded that the stars don’t scream for attention. They just shine. Quietly. Faithfully. Like they know the One who placed them is still watching over them.

Maybe that’s what waiting looks like too — shining quietly in the dark, holding onto faith, trusting that morning will come.

So, if this season is long — and it has been — I want to believe that it’s also full. Full of His grace. Full of His Spirit. Full of His nearness, even if I can’t always feel it.

I’m going to keep waiting. Not with frustration (though I may have days where I wrestle), but with hope.

Because through the Spirit, I eagerly await by faith the righteousness for which I hope.
Not by my strength.
Not by my emotions.
But by Him.

And that… that is enough.

Still waiting,
Still trusting,
Still His!

God’s Got This: Resting in His Faithfulness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I needed to write tonight (Sunday June 22nd). My heart feels heavy, not with hopelessness, but with questions, confusion, and honestly—this overwhelming need to let go and trust You. It’s just… hard sometimes. My mind knows the truth: You are good, You are faithful, You are in control. But my emotions? They don’t always catch up.

Today was one of those days that tested me. Work was chaotic, and I felt like nothing I did was enough. I tried my best—stayed online late, double-checked everything in my project case, fake-smiled through it all. But deep down, I felt anxious. Not because of the project itself, but because I’m scared. Scared that I’m failing. Scared that You’re disappointed in me. Scared that maybe I’m not where I’m “supposed” to be.

But You reminded me of something powerful today.

Right in the middle of my anxious spiral, a verse popped into my head—like You whispered it gently to my spirit:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV)

I’ve read that verse probably a hundred times. I’ve memorized it. Quoted it. But today… today it hit differently. I realized I’ve been leaning so hard on my own understanding. My own logic. My five-year plan. My checklist of how things should be going by now. And in doing that, I’ve subtly told You that I trust my own ability to figure life out more than I trust You.

That stung.

God, I’m sorry. I truly am. I know You don’t expect perfection from me, but You do want my trust. You want my surrender. And that doesn’t mean giving up—it means handing over the steering wheel and saying, “God, drive. I’ll go wherever You take me.”

So tonight, I’m choosing to say it again: God, You’ve got this. Whatever “this” looks like—my career, my relationships, my finances, my emotions, my future—I’m giving it to You. I want to be like David when he said:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”
— Psalm 56:3 (ESV)

Even David, a man after Your own heart, felt fear. But he didn’t stay there. He put his trust in You. Actively. Intentionally. That’s what I want to do too.

Here’s the truth, Lord. Trusting You isn’t always a one-time thing. For me, it’s like… a million little moments every single day. I trust You when I pray. I trust You when I let go of what I can’t control. I trust You when I stop rehearsing worst-case scenarios in my head. I trust You when I choose peace over panic.

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Honestly, it’s humbling. I’m 24, and there’s so much I thought I’d have figured out by now. But maybe that’s part of the journey. Maybe You’re allowing this space of “not knowing” to teach me how to walk by faith and not by sight.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:7 (KJV)

Lord, that verse has been my anchor lately. It’s so countercultural to walk by faith. The world screams, “Have a plan. Be in control. Know what’s next.” But You whisper, “Follow Me. Trust Me. I know the way.”

Tonight, I needed to write all this out to remind myself—and maybe even to declare to You again—that I do trust You. Even when it’s messy. Even when my heart trembles. Even when I can’t see two steps ahead.

You’ve been too faithful for me to doubt You now.

I remember when I prayed for this job. You opened the door. I remember when I prayed for peace during Mom’s surgery. You flooded me with it. I remember when I asked You to show me if that relationship wasn’t from You—and You did, even though it hurt. You’ve always been there. Always come through. Always held me when I felt like I was falling.

So if I believe that You were God then, I need to believe You’re still God now.

Here’s a little prayer I want to pray tonight before bed:

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for being patient with me when I waver. Thank You for holding me when I’m tired of trying to hold everything together. I lay down my need to control, my fear of failure, my doubt, and my anxiety at Your feet.
You are the Author and Perfecter of my faith. I trust that You are writing a beautiful story, even if I’m only on a confusing page right now. Help me to rest in the truth that You see me, You know me, and You love me more than I can comprehend.
Teach me to trust You more tomorrow than I did today.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

I think about Peter walking on water sometimes. The second he looked at the waves instead of Jesus, he sank. And yet—You didn’t let him drown. You reached out and pulled him back up. That story gets me every time.

You didn’t shame him for looking away. You didn’t abandon him when he got scared. You just reached out and saved him.

That’s who You are, Lord.

You’re not waiting for me to be perfect. You’re just waiting for me to trust You.

So tomorrow, I’m going to my best to wake up and remind myself: God’s got this.

Somewhere between heartbreak and holy fire

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

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

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And honestly? I’m furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

The Final Word: Why the Bible Still Speaks Today

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Today, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude as I opened my Bible—the living Word of God. It’s not just ink on paper. It is breath and truth, sharper than any two-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12), and it still speaks with clarity, authority, and compassion into every broken, confused, and distracted corner of our world.

There’s a lot of noise around us—so many opinions, ideologies, and distractions fighting for our attention. But in a world spinning ever faster into chaos and confusion, the Bible remains a steady voice. It is the voice of God. It doesn’t shift with cultural tides or bend to human preference. It stands. It convicts. It comforts. It corrects. And ultimately, it reigns as the final Word on all that is truly glorious.

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

This morning, I sat in the quiet before sunrise, coffee in hand and Bible open, reading from John 1. The words leapt off the page: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” My heart stirred. Jesus is not only the fulfillment of the written Word—He is the Word made flesh. And what God has spoken through Him will never pass away (Matthew 24:35). He alone defines truth, beauty, and what is worthy of praise.

The world, however, seems to be on a different path. So many are quick to dismiss the Bible as outdated, irrelevant, or intolerant. My heart aches for them. Not out of superiority—but out of sorrow. Because without the truth of God’s Word, how will they know the way to life? Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). That’s not a suggestion. It’s a final word.

As believers, we cannot afford to be silent about this. We are called to be salt and light (Matthew 5:13–16). We must hold firm to the authority of Scripture in a world that desperately wants to rewrite truth. God’s Word isn’t just a good book—it is The Book, divinely inspired and profitable for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness (2 Timothy 3:16). It tells us what is glorious—what reflects the heart and holiness of our Creator.

When I look around and see what society now calls “glorious,” it grieves me. So often, it exalts pride, self-expression without boundaries, sexual immorality, greed, and rebellion against God’s order. But the Bible makes it clear: “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil” (Isaiah 5:20). What God calls sin is not a matter of personal interpretation or cultural evolution—it’s eternal truth. And truth has consequences.

This is where my heart becomes burdened for the lost—those who don’t believe, those who reject or ignore God’s Word. The Bible is not ambiguous about the fate of those who die without Christ. Hebrews 9:27 says, “It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” That is sobering. That is real. And while God is rich in mercy and slow to anger (Psalm 103:8), He is also just. There is a day coming when every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord (Philippians 2:10–11). For some, that day will be one of eternal joy. For others, one of eternal regret.

I don’t write these things from a place of condemnation. Lord knows, I too once wandered far from Him. But His Word found me. It cut through my sin, my pride, my pain, and called me home. His grace changed everything. That’s why I believe the Bible still speaks today. Because I am living proof of its power. It rescued me. It guides me. And it anchors me when the world tries to shake my foundation.

Prayer:

Father, thank You for Your Word. Thank You for its unshakable truth, for its power to heal, convict, and restore. Help me, Lord, to treasure it more deeply and obey it more faithfully. Give me boldness to speak its truth in love, even when it’s unpopular. Open the hearts of those who have not yet received You. May they see the beauty of Your Son, Jesus, and surrender their lives before it’s too late. Let Your Word go forth and not return void, just as You promised in Isaiah 55:11. Amen.

If anyone happens to read this article one day, I want them to know this: There is only one voice that has the final say over life and death, over right and wrong, over what is glorious and what is not. That voice is the voice of God, revealed in His Word.

The invitation is still open. While we have breath in our lungs, we can turn to Him. He is patient, not wanting any to perish, but for all to come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9). But let us not mistake His patience for permissiveness. The day of the Lord will come like a thief.

So to the one reading this who may still be on the fence—don’t wait. Open your heart. Open His Word. He is calling. And His Word will always be the last word.

“Forever, O Lord, Your word is firmly fixed in the heavens.” – Psalm 119:89

Feeling Lost? Here’s How God Is Still Guiding You

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This morning, I came across something so uplifting that I just had to sit down and write about it. It was one of those little moments where the world shows a glimpse of Your greater plan, and my heart just overflowed with gratitude and awe.

I was reading a new study about mental health in older adults—specifically people in their mid-to-late 70s and early 80s. Honestly, with all the stress, chaos, and discouragement that seems to fill our headlines lately, you’d expect their mental well-being to be declining. But to my surprise, the study found that people in this age group today actually have better mental health than those of the same age 30 years ago!

Isn’t that amazing?

The study reported fewer symptoms of depression and higher levels of satisfaction and contentment in these older adults. In a world that often feels like it’s spinning faster and losing its way, this was a refreshing reminder that not everything is falling apart. Some things—quietly and steadily—are actually getting better.

And you know what? That’s not just coincidence or chance.

This is proof—beautiful, reassuring proof—that God has a plan for us, and that His plan is still unfolding, still active, and still working for our good.

Jeremiah 29:11 immediately came to mind:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

So often, we focus on the things that are broken, the struggles that weigh us down, or the pain we carry. But every now and then, we get a glimpse of restoration—of God slowly stitching things back together in ways only He can. This study, to me, is one of those glimpses. It’s a small but powerful reminder that He is not distant or passive. He is active, present, and intentional.

These improvements in mental health among older adults don’t happen at random. Of course, the scientists have their theories—better healthcare, improved communication, stronger community resources—but I see something greater behind it all. I see a God who is gently guiding us forward, even when we don’t always notice.

Romans 8:28 tells us, “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.”
Yes, in all things. Even in the silent progression of aging minds and hearts being uplifted—God is there, working behind the scenes.

Lord, thank You for showing us these quiet signs of hope. Thank You for the ways You restore and redeem, even when we aren’t looking. You are always faithful, and Your plans never fail. Teach us to notice the subtle beauty of Your work in the world.

I think sometimes we only expect to see God’s plan in the big, miraculous moments. But His work is just as present in the everyday things—the slow healing of a heart, the steady growth of a community, or the renewed joy in someone who has weathered many years. This study is a testimony that God continues to grow us and guide us through every season of life.

And here’s what really struck me: these older men and women, who’ve lived through wars, pandemics, economic hardship, and cultural upheaval, are now entering their twilight years with greater peace than generations before them. That can’t be explained by science alone. That’s grace. That’s divine provision.

We should celebrate these victories. We should rejoice when we see fruit in the lives of others—especially when that fruit reflects God’s promise of flourishing, even in later years.

Psalm 92:12-14 says:
“The righteous will flourish like a palm tree… They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, ‘The Lord is upright; He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him.’”

Isn’t that what we all long for? To bear fruit even in the latter seasons of life—to remain rooted, strong, and full of peace?

But God’s plan isn’t just something we observe—it’s something we’re called to participate in.
Yes, we rejoice in the good, but we also respond to it.

We’re called to be active vessels of His grace, to support one another, to build up communities of love and encouragement, and to help each other stay rooted in Christ.

Lord, help me not just to see Your plan, but to walk in it. Give me the courage to play my part, whether it’s offering a kind word, encouraging someone who feels forgotten, or simply living with faith in a world that often doubts. Let my life reflect the hope You have planted in me.

There’s so much darkness in the world, but I believe more than ever that God is raising up lights in unexpected places. We may not always understand the “why” or the “how,” but we can trust the Who behind it all.

And sometimes, God shows us His faithfulness through studies like this one—reminders that He is still working in hearts and lives across generations.

Let us be encouraged, then. Let us be filled with hope and strengthened by these quiet victories. They are reminders that God is not finished—with this world, with our stories, or with our souls.

So today, I choose to trust in God’s plan. I choose to believe that He is guiding us, healing us, and growing us—even when we don’t fully see it. I will rejoice in every piece of evidence that His love is active and alive.

And I will keep pressing forward, one prayer at a time.

Unwelcome Convictions: How Progressive Ideology Intolerantly, and Hatefully, Targets Christians

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Today, my heart is heavy.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the world I’m living in. The way things are shifting — so quickly, so radically. It seems like each time I open my phone or scroll through headlines, there’s a new attack — not just on Christianity in general, but on those of us who actually try to live by the Word of God.

I’ve seen it in the classroom, in the workplace, even in family conversations. There’s this growing hostility — a sharp edge in the air — toward people who hold to biblical convictions. Somehow, we’ve gone from being seen as “old-fashioned” to being labeled as hateful, bigoted, even dangerous.

The irony is painful. The very people who preach tolerance and acceptance can’t seem to tolerate us. Not when we speak truth. Not when we draw lines. Not when we stand on the authority of Scripture rather than the ever-changing winds of cultural approval.

But Jesus told us this would happen.

In John 15:18-19, He said:

“If the world hates you, know that it has hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world… therefore the world hates you.”

It still stings though. I’m not made of stone. I don’t enjoy being misunderstood or misrepresented. I don’t like being called names just because I believe God created two genders, that marriage is between a man and a woman, that life begins in the womb, or that Jesus is the only way to salvation.

But those are the “unwelcome convictions” that make progressive ideology bristle. They want a Christianity that conforms. A Jesus who agrees with their worldview. A Gospel stripped of repentance and truth. But that’s not real Christianity. That’s a counterfeit.

I read Isaiah 5:20 this morning, and it hit hard:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil,
who put darkness for light and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!”

That’s exactly what’s happening. We’re watching good be labeled as evil. Biblical love — the kind that tells the truth, even when it hurts — is being rebranded as “hate speech.” And evil is paraded in the name of “progress.” But it’s not progress if it walks away from God — it’s rebellion.

I had a conversation yesterday that’s still sitting with me. A friend from college messaged me out of the blue and asked why I “support oppression” because I’m still vocal about my faith. She said Christianity has caused pain and should evolve to reflect modern values. I tried to answer with gentleness and grace, but she wasn’t interested in a dialogue — just a monologue of outrage.

I wanted to cry afterward. Not because she disagreed with me — but because she’s blind and doesn’t even know it. And because deep down, I know the more I stand firm, the more opposition I’ll face.

But I can’t compromise truth just to be accepted. That’s not what Jesus did. That’s not what the apostles did. That’s not what faithful believers have ever done.

2 Timothy 3:12 warns us:

“Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.”

It’s not an if, it’s a when. And honestly, the more I reflect on that, the more peace I find. If they hated Him, they’ll hate us too. If they nailed truth to a cross, why would we expect to be applauded for proclaiming it?

This world isn’t our home. We’re ambassadors. Pilgrims. Salt and light in a culture that prefers decay and darkness.

Still… it hurts.

So tonight, I brought all of this before the Lord. I lit a candle, opened my Bible, and just sat quietly. And I prayed:

“Lord, give me courage. Not the kind that shouts or fights, but the kind that stands firm in the storm. Help me love those who hate what I believe. Help me speak truth in a world addicted to lies. Forgive me for the moments I’ve been silent to avoid conflict. Let me never be ashamed of the Gospel. Remind me, Jesus, that You were rejected first — and that in You, I have everything I need to endure. Let my life be marked not by fear, but by faithfulness. Amen.”

I feel calmer now. Not because things are better, but because I’ve laid them at His feet.

This isn’t the first time in history Christians have been despised. The early church faced imprisonment, exile, and even death. And yet the Gospel spread. Light always overcomes darkness.

I think about Paul and Silas singing hymns in a prison cell. About Stephen forgiving those who stoned him. About Jesus praying for the ones who nailed Him to a cross. That’s the spirit I want. Not bitterness. Not fear. Just bold, beautiful obedience.

It’s tempting to retreat. To go silent. To blend in. But then I remember Romans 1:16:

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes…”

This is why I have to keep speaking. Keep loving. Keep living in such a way that even those who hate my convictions will see something different — something divine.

If progressives can’t tolerate Christians, it may not be because we’re doing something wrong… but because we’re finally doing something right.

So I’ll press on. With truth in my mouth. Love in my heart. And Jesus at my side.

This world may reject me. But He never will.

And that’s enough.

Faith and Friendship: Christian Verses to Speak Life and Hope

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Lord, I felt You stirring my heart today to reflect on the kind of friend I am—and the kind of friend You’ve called me to be. In a world that often feels heavy and uncertain, I want to be someone who brings light and life to those You’ve placed in my path.

I opened my Bible this morning and found myself soaking in verses that speak truth and hope over relationships. Your Word is alive, and I felt You nudging me to share these promises—not just in texts or cards, but in how I live and love.

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17

This reminds me that true friendship is not about convenience. It’s about being present, especially when it’s hard. Help me be that kind of friend, Jesus.

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10

I want to be someone who lifts others up, not just with words, but with prayer, presence, and patience.

“Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” — 1 John 3:18

God, let my love for my friends be more than sentiment. Let it be active and true.

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11

When someone feels like giving up, let me be the voice that reminds them of their worth in You.

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2

There is something holy in simply showing up. Help me carry the weight when someone can’t carry it alone.

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” — Proverbs 27:17

Lord, give me friendships that challenge me to grow, not just feel good. And help me do the same for others.

“Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.” — Romans 12:10

Forgive me when I make it about me. Humble me. Teach me to serve and honor those I care about.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” — John 15:12

Your love was selfless and sacrificial. That’s the standard—not what’s easy.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” — John 15:13

Jesus, You laid down Your life for me. Let me lay down my pride, my time, even my comfort if it means loving others well.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.” — Numbers 6:24–25

I want to speak these words over the people I love. May they feel Your favor on their lives.

Prayers for Friendship and Faith

  1. Lord Jesus, thank You for the gift of friendship. Help me be the kind of friend who reflects Your love, grace, and truth. Let every word I speak bring encouragement and life.
  2. Father God, remind me that my friends are not mine to fix, but Yours to carry. Teach me to intercede for them in prayer before I offer advice or opinions.
  3. Holy Spirit, guide my conversations. Let my words be gentle, timely, and soaked in Scripture. Use my life to point others back to You.
  4. Gracious God, when my friends are hurting, let me be a vessel of comfort. May I show up not with answers, but with presence and peace.
  5. Faithful Lord, knit my friendships together with trust, patience, and forgiveness. Help me love even when it’s not easy, and speak hope when others feel hopeless.

Lifting Up One Another: A Christian Call to Encourage in Times of Need

Life has a way of bringing seasons we never asked for—loss, illness, heartache, or just deep weariness that words can’t fix. And when those seasons come, one of the greatest gifts we can give each other is the gift of encouragement. As Christians, we’re not only called to love God but to love people—and that love must show up when it matters most.

The Bible reminds us again and again that we were never meant to walk through pain alone. “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). This isn’t just a suggestion—it’s a calling. When someone we love is hurting, our presence, prayers, and words can be the very lifeline God uses to sustain them.

I’ve been on both sides—lifting others up and being lifted myself. I remember a time when I faced a painful loss. No one could fix it, but a few dear friends showed up with simple kindness: meals, scripture texts, or just silence and a hand to hold. Those moments helped me breathe again. They reminded me that even in the valley, I wasn’t alone—and neither was God.

Encouragement doesn’t have to be fancy. Sometimes it’s as simple as a phone call or a handwritten note that says, “I see you. I’m praying. You’re not forgotten.” Or maybe it’s sharing a Scripture that has carried us through our own storms. “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18) is one I’ve whispered over many aching souls, including my own.

We are the Body of Christ, and when one part suffers, we all feel it (1 Corinthians 12:26). That’s why comfort isn’t optional for us—it’s part of how we reflect the heart of Jesus. He didn’t run from sorrow; He stepped into it. He wept with the grieving. He noticed the hurting. And He called us to do the same.

Let us be women who show up. Let us be people who don’t just say “I’ll pray,” but actually do—right there, in the moment. Let’s be vessels of hope in a world that desperately needs it.

And when we don’t know what to say, that’s okay. Sometimes, being present is enough. Just our faithfulness in those hard moments can point someone to the faithfulness of God.

Friend, who in your life needs encouragement today? Ask the Holy Spirit to show you. Send that text. Write that card. Offer that prayer. Because when we lift others, we’re not only easing their burden—we’re reflecting the very love of Christ.

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” —1 Thessalonians 5:11

As I close this entry tonight, I’m reminded that You are the truest Friend, Jesus. You never leave, never tire, never fail. Thank You for loving me, so I can love others. Help me walk in this calling—with humility and with joy.

With a full heart,
—Christian Tech Nerd