Tag: jesus christ

Stop Abusing Grace

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Prayer

Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, I refuse to treat Your grace casually.
Break every chain of sin in my life.
Expose every lie my flesh has believed.
Give me a holy hatred for sin and a fierce love for righteousness.
Strengthen me by Your Spirit to reject every temptation and stand boldly for Your truth.
Jesus, thank You for Your sacrifice—teach me to honor it with my life, my choices, and my obedience.
I choose holiness. I choose surrender. I choose You.
Amen.

We talk a lot about grace—Christ taking our punishment, ending the need for sacrifices, shielding us from the wrath of a holy God. But somewhere along the line, people twisted that truth into an excuse to live however they want.
Let me be blunt: grace is not your permission slip to sin.

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Some people ask, “Well, if God won’t punish us anymore, why not just sin as much as we want?”
Because that’s a foolish, flesh-driven mindset. Yes, God still loves His children—but sin will wreck you. It will chew up your life, harden your heart, and make you spiritually deaf and blind (Hebrews 3:13). Grace may remove eternal punishment, but it does not remove consequences.

The Bible doesn’t sugarcoat this:
Whatever you obey, you become a slave to—sin leading to death or obedience leading to righteousness (Romans 6:16). There’s no neutral ground. If you’re indulging your flesh, you are willingly chaining yourself back to the very thing Christ died to free you from.

Sure, God can love someone sitting in a jail cell. But the bars are still there. Their crimes still destroyed lives. Sin always hurts someone—sexual immorality destroys families, addictions destroy bodies and relationships, lies destroy trust, covetousness opens the door to even worse evil. Sin is not harmless; it’s weaponized self-destruction.

That’s why Scripture says we have an obligation—not to the flesh, but to put it to death (Romans 8:12–13).
If you keep feeding your old nature, you will die. Spiritually. Emotionally. Sometimes physically. Grace doesn’t change that.

And let’s be honest—if we truly understand how deeply the Father loves us, we wouldn’t dare treat His grace like a cheap loophole. To use the cross as an excuse to sin is to spit on the sacrifice of Jesus. It’s spiritual arrogance, plain and simple.

Yes, we’re under the law of love now (Romans 13:8–10). Yes, we’re freed from the curse of the Law because Christ became the curse for us (Galatians 3:13). But freedom from the Law was never meant to give us freedom to rebel. It was meant to free us to love, to obey, to walk in the Spirit.

God’s intention has always been for humanity to accept His love. But we rejected it, chased evil, and proved we were utterly incapable of saving ourselves. That’s why a Savior had to come—not so we could go back to our filth, but so we could finally walk in the life, purity, and power He paid for.

Grace is a gift—but it’s also a call to fight your sin, not flirt with it.

“I am Jesus…now get up and go… “

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Recently something shifted in my spirit. It was quiet—no thunder, no lightning—but it was undeniably God. He interrupted my comfort, my silence, my prayer… with five words that feel like fire under my skin:

“I am Jesus… now get up and go.” (Acts 9:5 AMP)

I don’t even know where to begin, Lord. You’ve been pressing that verse on my heart all week. It’s been waking me up at 3AM. I’ve read it before, studied it, even quoted it. But this time it wasn’t just a story about Saul on the road to Damascus. This time, it was personal. Like… it was me lying there, blind, wrecked by Your holiness, trembling in the dust.

God, You called Saul by name. You stopped him mid-mission and gave him a brand new one. And You didn’t even explain everything right away. You just told him to “get up and go into the city”—and he obeyed, even though he couldn’t see.

Why does obedience feel so risky sometimes?
Why is comfort so seductive when calling is so clear?

I sat in my room tonight with worship music playing, tears falling down my face, Bible in my lap… feeling You. Feeling You so close I didn’t want to move. That mountain top moment—you were there, like You were with Peter, James, and John when You transfigured before them.

But like them, I have to come back down.

The mountaintop is beautiful, Jesus. I love the clarity, the closeness, the holy hush of it all. But the valley is where the work is. And You didn’t save me so I could sit. You saved me so I could serve. You called me not just to be comforted but to carry something—Your truth, Your gospel, Your name.

God, I’m scared sometimes. I won’t lie.

There are days I feel like Saul—wrecked, confused, unqualified. I’ve messed up. I’ve doubted. I’ve let my fear speak louder than my faith. I’ve avoided people You sent me to love. I’ve chosen silence over truth. I’ve sat in the rocking chair of comfort when You were saying, “Get up and go.”

But tonight You shook me.

You reminded me: You don’t call the qualified, You qualify the called.
And I am called.

Just like You told Saul, You’re telling me:

“I am Jesus…”
That’s it. That’s the authority. That’s the reason. That’s all I need to hear.
Not explanations. Not blueprints.
Just You.

You don’t owe me clarity. You’ve already given me the cross. That should be enough.

God, I don’t want to just talk about You—I want to walk with You. I want to move when You say move, even if I’m trembling. Even if I’m blind to what’s next.

I want to obey You without delay.

I’m done waiting for the “right moment.”
You are the moment.

I’m done acting like faith is a feeling.
Faith is movement. Faith is steps. Faith is getting up and going when You say so.

Jesus…
My Jesus.
I kneel in this quiet moment knowing You’re calling me higher and deeper. I know this fire in my chest isn’t hype, it’s Holy Spirit conviction. Don’t let me sit here any longer, playing it safe, praying for signs, waiting for ease. Let me trust You like Saul did. Let me get up blind but bold, broken but obedient.

Forgive me for loving comfort more than calling.
Forgive me for hoarding the mountaintop when You’ve called me to the mission field.

Fill me with courage, God.
Let me be a woman of action, not just emotion.
Let me carry Your name, even when it costs me mine.

Give me eyes to see the hurting, hands to heal, and a voice that doesn’t shrink back from the truth.
Let me not just be changed by You—let me be used by You.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Scriptures I’m Holding On To Tonight:

Acts 9:5 (AMP) – And Saul said, “Who are You, Lord?” And He answered, “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.
Matthew 17:1-9 – The transfiguration – “It is good for us to be here…”
Isaiah 6:8 – “Here I am. Send me!”
Luke 9:23 – “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”
2 Timothy 1:7 – “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”

I know tomorrow I’ll have to step back into hard places, hard conversations, and hard obedience. But tonight I’ve been reminded: He is Jesus. That’s enough.

So I will get up and go.

Not perfectly. Not always confidently.
But always with Him.

Wrestling with Doubt as a Christian

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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The weight of the world feels almost unbearable some days. Everything seems flipped. Right is called wrong. Wrong is celebrated. Sin is dressed up in sequins and paraded in the streets, while righteousness is mocked and silenced. I used to think we’d have more time before it got this loud—this twisted—but here we are. And I know You’re not surprised.

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness…” — Isaiah 5:20.


Your Word warned us, Lord. And now we are living in the middle of that woe.

Sometimes I just want to scream. Not because I hate people—I don’t. I ache for them. For the blind leading the blind. For the influencers raising a generation on relativism and emotion, not truth. For the silence of the church where there should be a shout. For my own weariness in holding the line.

I feel the tension in my soul every single day. To go along or to speak up. To be silent or to be that “annoying Christian girl” who just has to bring Jesus into everything. But how can I not? He is everything to me. He pulled me from darkness. He healed parts of me no one saw. He made me new. If I deny Him, I deny myself.

But today was hard.

I watched another celebrity mock believers. “Y’all still believe in that sky fairy?” she laughed. Thousands of likes. Thousands of cheers. I cried. Not because I’m weak, but because I know what it’s like to live without hope—and I know what it’s like to meet Jesus. And I want that for them, even if they spit in my face. Even if they call me brainwashed. Because Christ said they’d do all of that.

“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first.” — John 15:18

Jesus, You knew this would happen. You promised this walk wouldn’t be easy, but You also promised You’d walk with me. I guess that’s what I’m clinging to right now: that I’m not alone, even when it feels like I’m walking upstream in a river of compromise.

It’s hard to hold on when it feels like faith itself is on trial.

Every time I open social media, the battle is louder. The culture says be “politically correct,” while You’ve called us to be morally correct. There’s a war raging, not just around us, but inside of us. The culture war is just a symptom of the deeper spiritual war, and I can feel it tearing at hearts. Mine included.

But Lord, I believe. Even when it’s hard. Even when I don’t feel You the way I used to. Even when my prayers feel like they’re bouncing off the ceiling.

I still believe.

I still believe You are the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6).
I still believe the Bible is Your living, breathing Word (Hebrews 4:12).
I still believe You died and rose again, defeating death and hell (Revelation 1:18).
I still believe the cross is not foolishness, but the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18).
I still believe You are coming back, and soon.

So help me, Jesus.

Help me keep my eyes on You, not the headlines.
Help me keep my ears tuned to Your voice, not the noise of the crowd.
Help me to stand, even if I’m the last one standing.
Help me to speak when You say “speak,” and be silent when You say “wait.”
Help me to love, even when I’m hated.
And help me to never confuse compassion with compromise.

The world follows Carl Sagan’s voice—”The cosmos is all that is, or ever was, or ever will be.” But I hear Your whisper through the ages: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” — Genesis 1:1.

Sagan saw a godless void. Calvin saw a stage for Your glory. I choose to see what Calvin saw—what You showed us. Creation is Your theater, and we’re living in the final act. I’ve read the end of the script. I know who wins. You do. So I will not be afraid.

But Lord, give me wisdom. There’s so much deception. And it’s subtle. The devil isn’t dumb. He disguises lies as “love.” He paints sin with glitter and slogans like “your truth” and “just be you.” But Your truth is the only truth that saves. And it breaks my heart that so many will miss it because it doesn’t feel good or sound trendy.

Jesus, revive Your Church. Shake us. Wake us up. We were not called to blend in. We were never meant to be lukewarm or “cool.” We are salt and light—meant to sting and shine. Forgive us for choosing comfort over conviction.

I want to be bold, God. But not rude. I want to be loving, but not compromising. I want to reflect You, even when people reject me. Because this world is not my home. I’m not living for likes. I’m living for “Well done.”

So tonight, I lay my weariness before You. I pour out the ache, the confusion, the heartbreak, the loneliness. I give it all to You. And I pick up peace. I pick up faith. I pick up the cross.

Because You’re worth it.

Every tear.
Every rejection.
Every label.
Every loss.

Jesus, You’re worth it.

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Your Life Has Purpose — God Doesn’t Make Mistakes

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Jesus,

Today hasn’t been tragic, nor exciting, just… painfully ordinary. Dishes in dishwasher. Texts left on read. My reflection staring back in the mirror like, “Is this it?” But then I stumbled upon 1 Peter 1:3-4:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade.”

And that phrase—“a living hope”—hit me like a wave.

Screenshot

It’s not a future dream or some vague, ethereal promise. It’s here. Right now. A living, breathing, pulsing hope in the middle of my very blah life. I’ve read that verse before, but today, it confronted my forgetfulness like a friend yanking back the blinds and letting the light pour in.

This hope isn’t based on vibes, feelings, or circumstances. It’s rooted in the resurrection—the single most powerful event in human history. Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb, and neither does my purpose.

Still, I let my thoughts run wild far too often. When I scroll social media and see everyone else “living their best lives,” I start to question mine. My mind spirals:

“What am I even doing?”
“Why hasn’t this happened for me yet?”
“God, did You forget me?”

But those thoughts? They’re not grounded in truth. They are not rooted in hope. They’re whispers from the enemy trying to blur my focus and blind me from the inheritance already mine through Christ.

God has not forgotten me. And He is certainly not wasting my life.

John 10:10 says:

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

Abundantly. Not passively. Not fearfully. Not merely surviving.
Jesus didn’t die so I could exist in emotional limbo. He came to bring me life to the full, even when my circumstances feel like less.

That’s why I have to fight for this truth. I’m done with passive Christianity. I love people deeply, but I won’t shrink to keep them comfortable. I won’t tiptoe around the fact that without Jesus, there’s no hope. No purpose. No life. I’d rather be misunderstood for standing in truth than adored for blending in. Because the gospel offends before it transforms. That’s just how it works.

But my compassion is real. I want people to taste what I’ve tasted. To see what I see. To know what I know—that God does not waste anything. Not our tears. Not our waiting. Not our quiet seasons. Not our heartbreaks. He weaves all of it together to display His glory, even if we don’t understand it in the moment.

Romans 8:28 reminds me:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

If that verse is true (and it is), then everything I walk through is filtered through His love and will be used for His good. Even this season I don’t understand.

But here’s the catch: I have to be willing to see through the lens of faith, not feelings. Hope requires confrontation—confronting my doubt, my laziness, my comparison, and replacing them with truth.

So today, I’m choosing to take my thoughts captive, like Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians 10:5. I’m rejecting the ones that lead me to despair, and I’m clinging to the ones that speak life. I’m not waiting to “feel” full of purpose—I already have it in Jesus.

Let me pray it out loud:

God,
Thank You for not wasting my life. Thank You for your mercy, for giving me new birth into a living hope through Jesus. Remind me that hope is not an emotion; it’s a reality I live in because You are alive. Help me stop entertaining thoughts that are not from You—thoughts of failure, comparison, and fear.

Teach me to recognize Your hand in the quiet seasons, to lean in when the world tells me to run. I surrender my timing, my dreams, and even my disappointments to You, because I know You never waste anything. Even when I can’t see it, You’re moving.

Strengthen me to walk confidently in the purpose You’ve placed on my life. Let my heart remember daily that I have an eternal inheritance that will never spoil, fade, or disappoint.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

So, today, I refuse to believe that my life is on hold. I’m not stuck. I’m not forgotten. I’m exactly where God wants me—and that means He’s working.
I’m going to live like it.

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Father God,

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

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

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

In Jesus’ holy name,
Amen.

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

I’m reminded of Psalm 91:

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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.

Why Atheists Age Quicker

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Have you noticed that some people age quicker?

They are in their 30s and they have gray hair.

Or they are in their 50s and they have trouble walking

When people are constantly anxious, they damage their health and their souls.

(Even if they don’t realize it).

However, the opposite is also true.

Some people don’t seem to age.

They stay young even in their 70s or 80s.

They move around easily

And their minds work as well as when they were younger.

Why does this happen?

Well, it’s no secret.

People who remain youthful have let God into their existence.

Take, for example, the story of Moses. 

Despite his age, he remained strong and vigorous as he led the Israelites through the desert.

His unwavering faith in God and his commitment to fulfilling his divine mission kept him energetic and strong.

Most people nowadays focus solely on their physical health.

But what they don’t realize is that you can’t stay healthy if your spirit is sick.

As Christians, we don’t fall into this trap.

When we live according to God’s design, everyday problems don’t seem so difficult anymore.

We can just pray to God and ask for guidance.

Philippians 4:6 says “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God”

We know that we are not alone.

We don’t stress over every little thing.

So our systems function at their optimal level.

Our heart becomes filled with love, joy, and forgiveness.

And we feel young and alive even in older age.

By letting go of bitterness, anger, and resentment, we make room for the healing power of God’s love to flow through us.

The key lies not in chasing after fleeting, superficial results, but in embracing spiritual depth and inner peace.

Let us strive to live in accordance with God’s plan for our paths.

We will be happier.

We will age slower.

And we will help our friends and family experience God’s grace and love.

This Is The Key To Unwavering Faith

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Everyone has experienced doubt at some point.

Yes, even as believers, we may sometimes find ourselves wrestling with questions.

And perhaps, feeling just a little bit like Doubting Thomas.

The disciple who, when told of Jesus’s resurrection, responded, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (John 20:25).

In his story, lies the key to overcoming doubt.

But before we go any further, let’s clear something up.

Having doubts doesn’t mean you’re a bad Christian.

It simply means that your faith is maturing. It’s an indication that you are not afraid to ask difficult questions and seek the truth.

The story of Thomas teaches us a profound lesson, one that can help us mature and reinforce our faith in God.

The vital moment in that story comes a week after Jesus’s resurrection. 

Jesus appears before his disciples once more.

And this time, Thomas is present. 

He sees the wounds of Christ, hears His voice, and Jesus lets him reach out and touch his wounds.

“My Lord and my God!” Thomas exclaimed.

This moment of recognition, of truly seeing Jesus, triggers a complete transformation in Thomas.

And therein lies our lesson.

The key to unwavering faith is not in eliminating doubts, but in seeking a personal, transformative encounter with Christ.

Everyone’s journey is unique.

We each encounter Christ in different ways.

And it is through these encounters that we, like Thomas, come to recognize Jesus for who He is. Our Lord and our God.

So if you ever wrestle with doubts, don’t despair. 

Remember the story of Thomas. Reach out to Christ. Seek a personal encounter with Him.

He is always there.

And He is more patient than most people think.

God’s Answer To Overthinking

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dozens and dozens of people have opened up to me about the same subject…

Their minds are constantly focused on everything that can go wrong.

They can’t sleep as well as they’d like…

They doubt every decision they make…

And they can’t enjoy themselves.

Overthinking is something that a lot of people struggle with.

If you also have this concern, make sure you read on.

Because I’m about to tell you how I helped these people eliminate it for good.

Without using any fancy techniques or having to spend a fortune on therapists.

Before I tell you what you can do, we need to make something clear,

Overthinking is nothing but an adapting mechanism.

That’s right.

By considering every potential hazard, our ancestors were able to escape trouble and live in the wild.

In modern times, however, this mechanism can hinder our experiences.

Especially if the part of our mind that’s responsible for analyzing threats becomes overactive.

We have more complex problems nowadays than running from animals or staying safe from the cold.

If we try to analyze everything that might go wrong, we will eventually burn ourselves out.

Overthinking can overtake everything else, and keep us constantly worried.

It sounds terrible, and it is for most people.

But as Christians, we have a way to eliminate overthinking.

And replace it with positive and happy feelings.

The answer is praying.

When we pray, we communicate our worries and concerns with God.

This allows us to shift our minds from planning, from thinking, from anticipating possible emergencies.

To being present.

This is what’s missing from a lot of people nowadays.

They either think about past decisions, or about future problems they might have to face.

But rarely are they present.

Present in their conversations.

Present in their family meals.

Or present in their experiences.

Praying can completely reverse that.

It can remind you that God is in control of everything, and that your job is to be happier and engaged in the present.

So if you struggle with overthinking,

Try praying more often.

It can solve it for good.

What Atheists Don’t Realize About Forgiveness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

There’s an old saying that goes, “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

I see it constantly in the world around us. 

People hold on to grudges, resentment, and anger for weeks, months, even years.

They may have a very good reason to do so

But they are just harming themselves in the long run.

As Christians, we lead different lifestyles.

Jesus taught us the importance of forgiveness, both for the sake of our own souls and for the benefit of others.

He reminds us in Matthew 6:14-15, “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”

Forgiveness isn’t always easy

But it is an incredible path towards inner peace, enhanced relationships, and even improved health.

Forgiveness can lead to lower blood pressure, reduced stress levels, and a more robust immune system.

It can also improve our mental health and overall well-being.

So how can we cultivate forgiveness in our daily experiences?

The answer is simple

Pray for those who have wronged you. 

Praying for your enemies can be a transformative experience, as it shifts your perspective and allows you to see them as God sees them.

This is something that not a lot of people can do nowadays

They are too blinded by resentment.

And they don’t realize that by staying angry, they are hurting themselves and those around them.

But we have ways to overcome that resentment.

We are not alone.

We can seek support from our community. 

Sharing your struggles with fellow believers can provide encouragement and aid you in finding the strength to forgive.

Remember, forgiveness is not something you do once. It has to be a part of your character.

You have to be a forgiving person.

Both for yourself, and your loved ones.

It takes time and effort, but the rewards are immeasurable.

As we journey through God’s path, may we always strive to practice forgiveness.

And may we receive God’s aid.