Tag: jesus

The Final Word: Why the Bible Still Speaks Today

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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 So many are quick to dismiss the Bible as outdated, irrelevant, or intolerant.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

Unlike the Racist Left, God’s Image Knows No Skin Tone

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Yesterday I saw something that made my heart sink—not because I didn’t expect it, but because deep down I had hoped for better. News broke that President Trump is allowing in 58 white refugees from South Africa, and instead of celebrating the rescue of human beings—God’s creations—the Left is up in arms about it. Not because they’re against refugees per se, but apparently, because these particular refugees are white.

I had to sit with that for a moment.

For years, I’ve heard the Left shout that “refugees are welcome,” that “America is a land of immigrants,” and that “no human being is illegal.” So why is it different now? Is mercy only righteous when it aligns with a political narrative? Is compassion only acceptable when it checks the right identity boxes?

“For God shows no partiality.” —Romans 2:11

Lord, You are not swayed by skin tone, nationality, or social class. You see the heart, the need, the soul. Why can’t we do the same?

I’m not here trying to defend every decision Trump has made. But what I can’t ignore is how quickly compassion is questioned when the recipients are white. It’s like being white disqualifies you from pain or persecution in the eyes of this world. But persecution doesn’t ask for skin color—it strikes where evil thrives.

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” —Galatians 3:28

People talk about equity and fairness, but they don’t want fairness—they want revenge disguised as justice. It’s heartbreaking. What happened to just loving people?

Prayer 1:
Lord Jesus, open my eyes wider and cleanse any bias within me. Help me love like You, without filters, without conditions. Give me discernment in a world full of lies.

What I’m seeing is the fruit of a culture that has lost its moral compass. It’s not even about politics anymore. It’s about spiritual decay. When people hate mercy, something’s wrong. When people cheer for destruction, we’ve left the Gospel far behind.

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness.” —Isaiah 5:20

They say they want love, but then hate those who look a certain way. They say they want inclusion, but then exclude people for being the wrong kind of oppressed. It’s all backwards.

Prayer 2:
Father, I lift up this nation to You. We are confused, divided, and sick with pride. Humble our hearts and bring repentance to this land. Let Your truth shine through the noise.

I keep thinking about how Jesus would respond. He wouldn’t care about the politics. He’d care about the person—the refugee mother trying to protect her children, the man fleeing violence, the family seeking a safe home. And yes, that includes white people too.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18

Why does the world want to assign value based on melanin instead of mercy?

I feel a deep ache in my spirit. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in this culture anymore. The values I see shouted from the rooftops—sexual confusion, identity politics, hatred of faith, and open disdain for biblical truth—make me feel like a stranger in my own country.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” —Romans 12:2

I want to be bold in love but also bold in truth. It’s not loving to remain silent while people celebrate sin or weaponize compassion.

Prayer 3:
Jesus, help me be a voice of clarity in a foggy world. Give me strength not to compromise, and courage not to stay silent. Make me more like You.

This isn’t about defending whiteness—God help us if that’s what it becomes. This is about standing for what’s right even when it’s unpopular. If it were 58 black refugees, I would feel the same. If it were 58 Muslims fleeing war, I would still say: protect them. Because they are human beings. Because they are loved by God. Because Christ died for all.

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

But instead of seeing God’s mercy reflected, I see people getting upset simply because mercy was shown to the “wrong” race. If this isn’t a heart problem, what is?

Prayer 4:
Holy Spirit, break the chains of racism in every direction—black, white, left, right. Only You can purify hearts and restore true unity. Let Your church rise up in holiness and love.

This is why I cling to Scripture more than ever. The world’s values are shifting sand, but God’s truth is my anchor. I can’t afford to let culture define what’s good and evil. Only God can.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” —Psalm 119:105

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” —Matthew 5:9

“Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.” —Romans 12:9

“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” —Galatians 6:9

I pray that we don’t lose sight of what mercy really means. That we remember Jesus died not for categories, but for souls. That we hold the line on righteousness, even when the world mocks us.

Prayer 5:
Lord, keep my heart soft but strong. Let me not be desensitized by hatred or fear. Help me shine for You, even when the darkness feels loud.

Today I cried—not because 58 white refugees were rescued, but because people were mad about it. The world needs Jesus, desperately. But we have Him. And I won’t let go.

—Amen.

The Exodus from the Pews: What’s Driving the Decline of U.S. Christianity?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I don’t even know where to begin today, Lord.

It feels like my heart is breaking in slow motion every time I look around and see what this country has become. I’m only 24, but it already feels like the America my parents and grandparents told me about is fading right before my eyes. Churches are emptier. Faith seems optional now—like a cute accessory people pull out for weddings or Christmas, not something that defines their soul.

What happened, God?

Growing up, I thought most people believed in You. I thought prayer before meals, purity, honesty, and honoring marriage were normal things. But now, when I speak about Your Word or choose to live differently, people look at me like I’m a fossil. They laugh at purity. They mock modesty. They reject truth in the name of “tolerance.”

I can’t lie—sometimes I feel completely alone.

“For the time will come when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions.”
—2 Timothy 4:3

That verse hits home more than ever. People don’t want Your truth, Lord. They want watered-down, feel-good nonsense that demands nothing and affirms everything—even sin. I watch people abandon church because it’s “too judgmental,” but really, they just don’t want to be told they’re living wrong.

PRAYER #1:
Lord Jesus, give me strength not to conform to this world. Help me stand firm, even when I stand alone. Remind me that Your approval matters more than the world’s applause.

Sometimes I wonder what’s driving this exodus from the pews. Is it pride? Is it because people love their sin too much to let it go? Social media preaches louder than the pulpit now. Instead of pastors, influencers are shaping beliefs. Instead of Bibles, people scroll endlessly, filling their minds with lies dressed up as “progress.”

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.”
—Romans 12:2

Everything feels upside-down. Good is called evil. Evil is celebrated like it’s a badge of freedom.

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.”
—Isaiah 5:20

I can’t unsee the drag queens in elementary schools, the rainbow flags flying higher than the cross, and the celebrities mocking God with no shame. Sin has become entertainment. And worse, many churches have compromised just to “stay relevant.”

PRAYER #2:
Father, purify Your church. Expose the false teachers and cowardly shepherds who twist Your Word. Raise up a generation that will not bow to Baal, but only to You.

I don’t say all this out of hate. I say it out of deep sorrow. People are lost. They’re dying spiritually. And yet, the gospel—the only thing that can save—is being silenced. Christians are afraid of being “cancelled,” so they say nothing.

But how can we stay silent when we know the truth?

“If anyone is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when He comes.”
—Mark 8:38

The decline of Christianity isn’t just numbers. It’s souls. It’s families without fathers. Children without identity. Women trading worth for lust. Men abandoning godly manhood. It’s moral decay rotting the nation from the inside out.

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

Sometimes I feel like Jeremiah—watching a nation crumble while pleading for it to turn back.

“Return to Me, and I will return to you, says the Lord.”
—Malachi 3:7

PRAYER #3:
Jesus, send revival. Let hearts be convicted again. Let knees bend again. Let altars be filled with repentance again. Don’t let this country fall away without a fight.

The truth is, we stopped fearing You, God. We stopped believing that You are holy. Now it’s all about self-love, not self-denial. People treat You like a distant cosmic buddy, not the righteous King of Kings.

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”
—Proverbs 9:10

PRAYER #4:
God, restore holy fear in Your people. Break our pride. Teach us to tremble at Your Word again.

I know You promised that the gates of hell wouldn’t prevail against Your church (Matthew 16:18), but sometimes it feels like they’re pounding hard. Still, I believe. I believe You’re purifying Your bride, even through this shaking.

Maybe this decline is really a refining.

“Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.”
—Hebrews 12:26

Even if only a remnant remains, I want to be in it. I want to be part of the faithful few who never bow to this culture. I want my life to be a light in this darkness—even if I’m mocked, misunderstood, or rejected.

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.”
—Matthew 5:14

PRAYER #5:
Lord, use me. Even if I’m just one voice, let it be loud with truth and love. Make me bold like Esther, like Daniel, like Paul. Let me live unashamed.

I still believe revival is possible. I still believe the gospel is power. I still believe Jesus is the only hope for this nation.

So tonight, even with tears in my eyes and heaviness in my heart, I choose to trust You.

Because no matter how far the world drifts, You are still God. You are still holy. You are still worthy.

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

Until every knee bows, I’ll keep standing.

Sacred Heartbeats: Lifting the Unborn in Prayer

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

So I started praying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And lastly, I prayed for myself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because I believe it matters.

And I believe they matter — every single one.

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, I feel heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Including mine.

A Prayer for Newborn Babies

Heavenly Father,

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

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

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

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

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

In Jesus’ holy name we pray,
Amen.

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

1. Praise – Start with who He is.

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

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

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

2. Confession – Clear the air.

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

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

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

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

3. Thanksgiving – Gratitude shifts everything.

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

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

Today, I thanked Him for:

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

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

4. Intercession – Praying for others.

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

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

Tonight I prayed for:

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

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

5. Petition – Bring your needs to Him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight’s Prayer:

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

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

From Hurt to Healing: 10 Powerful Bible Verses on Forgiveness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When God Whispers: Finding Faith in the Silence

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I remembered Psalm 46:10:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

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

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

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

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

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

There’s something beautiful and hard about that.

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

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

It reminded me of Isaiah 30:15:

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

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

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

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

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

You whisper, and that’s enough.

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

A Prayer Before I Sleep:

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

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

What Atheists Miss About the Power of Grace

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Heavenly Father,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there’s healing in the obedience.

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

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

First, we pray.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even loneliness can separate you from Him.

And that, sweet friend, is everything.