Tag: jesus

Divine Affection: The Holiness of God’s Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I don’t even know how to begin, except to say thank You. Thank You God for Your love.

Thank You God that Your love is not like human love—fleeting, conditional, broken—but that it is holy, steadfast, unshakable, and pure. I’ve been meditating all day on Isaiah 54:10:

“The mountains and the hills may crumble, but My love for you will never end…so says the LORD who loves you.” — Isaiah 54:10 (GNT)

That verse has wrapped around my heart like a blanket. Honestly, I needed it today. I’ve been feeling really stretched in some areas of my life—spiritually, emotionally, and even physically—and I found myself questioning some things. Not questioning You, Lord, but questioning if I’m walking right, if I’m missing something. Sometimes I wonder why things are so hard when I’m trying so hard to follow You.

But You reminded me today that Your love is holy love.

It’s not the kind of love that always feels soft or comfortable. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes it breaks before it builds. Sometimes it wounds before it heals. I’m slowly realizing that holy love doesn’t just comfort—it corrects. It doesn’t just protect—it purifies.

And I guess that’s what You’ve been doing in me lately: purifying. You’re removing idols I didn’t know I had. You’re calling out insecurities that I’ve buried under productivity. You’re showing me that surrender isn’t a one-time prayer but a daily sacrifice. And through all of it, I can feel Your holy love—strong, fierce, yet full of mercy.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” — Psalm 103:13-14 (NIV)

I love that verse so much. I cried when I read it earlier. Sometimes I think I have to be strong for You, like I need to show You how committed I am by pushing through on my own. But You know I’m dust. You’re not asking me to be strong—you’re asking me to be surrendered.

Even when You allow trials—especially when You do—You’re not being cruel. You’re being holy. Your love doesn’t overlook the cancer of sin in me. You fight it, even when I cling to it. And it hurts, Lord. It hurts when You pull things away that I once found identity or comfort in. But I trust You. I trust that Your discipline is not punishment—it’s love.

“The Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as his child.” — Hebrews 12:6 (NLT)

I read that and I just paused. I looked at my life and said, “Wow, God—you really must love me.” Because You haven’t let me go. Even when I drift. Even when I numb myself with distractions or withdraw because I’m tired. You keep pursuing me. And You keep pruning me.

I heard a sermon the other day that said: “Love that doesn’t confront sin isn’t love—it’s tolerance.” And I know now that You don’t tolerate me, You treasure me. And that’s why You won’t let sin take root in me. You are holy, and Your love is holy too. You love me too much to let me be less than who You created me to be.

And I’m beginning to see that trials are not punishment—they’re invitations. Invitations into deeper trust, deeper dependency, deeper intimacy with You.

“Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to the children of men.” — Lamentations 3:32-33 (NIV)

That verse undoes me. You don’t delight in my pain. You’re not standing far off watching me struggle. You’re here. You’re near. You suffer with me. You are Emmanuel, God with me, even in the storm. Maybe especially in the storm.

It’s in the furnace that You refine. It’s in the fire that You reveal. It’s in the crushing that You produce oil. And I don’t want to resist the process anymore. I want to embrace it—even if I don’t understand it fully—because I know You. And I trust Your heart more than I fear the heat.

“The Lord binds up the bruises of his people and heals the wounds he inflicted.” — Isaiah 30:26 (NIV)

That is such a strange verse when I first think about it—You inflict wounds, yet You are also the one who heals them. But I get it now. You’re not causing pain for pain’s sake. You’re a surgeon, not a sadist. You wound to remove infection. You break to reset what was broken in the wrong way. You crush to restore.

Your love is fierce, Father. But it is good. It is not reckless—it is righteous. It is not wild—it is wise. It is not passive—it is powerful. It doesn’t leave me as I am, and for that, I am forever grateful.

I used to want a love that just made me feel safe. Now, I want a love that makes me holy.

“Real love seeks the well-being of the loved one. It warns to prevent more harm. It disciplines to create more growth.”

That’s You. That’s what You’ve been doing all along. And even though it’s been hard, I see the fruit. I see how You’re growing my patience, my humility, my prayer life. I see how You’ve used disappointments to draw me closer to You. I see how You’ve used closed doors to redirect me toward better ones. You’re not being cruel—you’re being kind.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” — James 1:17 (CSB)

You don’t change. Not with my moods, not with my mistakes, not with my questions. Your love stays constant when everything else shifts. Even when the world is loud and my own heart is confused, You remain. And Your love remains. And it’s holy. And it’s healing me.

A Prayer of Response:

Heavenly Father,

Thank You that Your love for me never ends. Thank You that it’s not based on my performance but on Your perfect nature. Thank You that when I fall short, You don’t walk away. Instead, You move closer. Thank You for the trials that lead me back to Your heart. Thank You for the pruning that prepares me for fruitfulness. Thank You that Your love confronts, corrects, and restores.

Lord, help me to trust You in the middle of refinement. When it hurts, remind me that You are near. When I’m tempted to believe that You are distant or angry, whisper again the truth that You are holy, and so is Your love. Help me to welcome Your discipline, knowing it is evidence that I am Your daughter.

Make me more like Jesus. Shape me with Your holy love. I surrender again tonight. Take everything that is not of You, and replace it with truth, with grace, and with fire.

And even if the mountains crumble, I will rest in the truth that Your love for me will never end.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Is Heaven Listening? The Power of Prayer is Real

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Tonight, my heart feels so full and so fragile all at once. The world outside my window is quiet—just the soft hum of the fan and the occasional chirp of a cricket. But inside me, it’s anything but quiet. I feel stirred. Not anxious exactly, just… aware. Aware that I need God more than ever, and somehow, even when I whisper the tiniest prayer, I know—really know—that Heaven is listening.

But some days I do wonder. I’m not proud of that, but it’s honest. Is Heaven listening? When my voice cracks under the weight of what I can’t even put into words, is God really hearing me? And more than that—does He care?

Tonight, I opened up to Psalm 34:17:

“The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles.”

I held onto that verse like it was oxygen. Because today I cried—not out loud, but in that quiet way where you hold your breath so no one hears, but your soul is screaming. I didn’t have the strength to pray long or with eloquence. All I could manage was: “Jesus, I need You.”

And that was enough.
It had to be enough.

Lately, prayer has felt less like a ritual and more like my lifeline. It’s not about pretty words anymore. I don’t even bother with formalities. I talk to Him like I’d talk to my best friend. Because He is.

He’s the only one who’s been with me through everything—the bad breakups, the confusion after college, the loneliness I didn’t expect at this age. Everyone told me life would feel more settled by 24, but honestly? It just feels like more questions, more pressure, more waiting.

But prayer reminds me I’m not waiting alone.

A Little Prayer Tonight:

Jesus, thank You for listening even when my words are few. Thank You for not being distant, even when I feel far away. Draw me back to You tonight. Remind me that my prayers are not in vain and that You’re doing something in the silence—even when I can’t see it. Amen.

I remember something my grandma used to say: “You don’t always need to hear from Heaven to know that Heaven hears you.” I never understood that until now. I think about the times I’ve prayed for things that didn’t happen the way I wanted—but somehow, it worked out better later. Maybe unanswered prayers are God’s mercy in disguise.

1 John 5:14 brings me comfort, especially on days like this:

“This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.”

I keep asking for clarity—about my future, about my purpose, about whether I’m doing this life right. But maybe what I need more is courage. The courage to keep praying even when the answers feel far away.

Earlier today, I journaled this prayer (before I even opened my Bible):

Lord, I don’t want to treat prayer like a last resort. I want it to be my first move. Even when I don’t see immediate results, remind me that You’re always working behind the scenes. Let me trust the process and trust Your heart, even when Your hand feels hidden.

When I think about prayer, I don’t just think about asking. I think about connecting. Like, deep soul-to-God connection. And that changes everything. It’s not about wish lists—it’s about presence. His presence. And when I feel that, even just a little, I’m okay again.

I think of Philippians 4:6-7 so often:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

That verse has literally carried me through panic attacks. I read it out loud when my heart races, and it’s like the Word itself becomes a balm over my chaos. I still struggle with fear sometimes, but prayer has become my shelter.

Tonight’s final prayer:

Abba, You are my refuge. When everything feels uncertain, Your love remains. Help me to not just pray out of desperation, but out of devotion. Remind me that every whispered prayer reaches You. That not one word falls to the ground. That You’re near. I surrender my need to understand, and I choose to trust that You are good, always. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

So, is Heaven listening?

Yes. I believe that with every fiber of my being—even on the days when I don’t feel it. Faith isn’t about always feeling—it’s about choosing to believe, even in the silence.

And tonight, I choose to believe. I choose to believe that the Power of Prayer is real. That my small, trembling voice matters to a big, powerful God. That my tears don’t go unnoticed. That even now—right now—Heaven is not just listening, but leaning in.

Goodnight, Jesus. I love You.
Thank You for loving me first.
More than anything else in this world, I belong to You.

God’s Guardrails Are Not Just a List: How the 10 Commandments Keep Me Grounded

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

More than ever before I feel God’s presence like a warm light wrapping around my soul—just comforting enough to remind me I’m not alone. I’ve been thinking deeply about something a new friend said at small group over the weekend: “God’s guardrails are more than just a list.” How true that is! The Ten Commandments—they’re not rules meant to chain me; they’re loving boundaries from a Father who wants the best for me.

When I first encountered the Ten Commandments as a kid, I thought of them as a little pile of “thou shalt nots,” like rules that threatened punishment if broken. But over the last few years—especially now at 24—I’m discovering they’re liberating guardrails. Ironically, these boundaries don’t limit me; they protect me. They keep me grounded in truth, love, and purpose.

📖 “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” —2 Timothy 1:7. This tells me He didn’t give those commandments to scare me. He gave them so I could walk in confidence, rooted in His love, free from fear of “messing up.”

💕 Commandment by Commandment: How They Guide Me

  1. “You shall have no other gods before me.”
    — It’s a daily reminder that when I idolize my career ambitions, relationships, or even comfort, I’m drifting away from Him. I pray: “Lord, You alone are worthy of my highest devotion. Teach me to keep You at the center.”
  2. “You shall not make for yourself a carved image…”
    — In this age of comparison on Instagram and TikTok, it’s easy to idolize trends, aesthetic, or image. I whisper: “Help me focus on who I am in You, not what I look like to others.”
  3. “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.”
    — I catch myself sometimes saying God’s name in frustration. I repent: “Father, forgive my careless words. Let my tongue speak life and honor.”
  4. “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”
    — Oh, how I struggle with rest! My heart races at the thought of doing nothing. But Sabbath reminds me that rest is holy and necessary. “God, grant me peace in stillness and remind me You are enough.”
  5. “Honor your father and your mother.”
    — This one has softened me. My parents have taught me so much about faith and grace. I pray: “Thank You for them. Help me honor them in word, deed, and heart.”
  6. “You shall not murder.”
    — It’s about more than physical harm—it’s about words. I’ve let frustration boil into bitterness. “Lord, guard my heart and my words; let me speak life, forgiveness, and grace.”
  7. “You shall not commit adultery.”
    — My future spouse deserves holiness. I guard my eyes, my thoughts, my purity—heart, mind, and body. “Keep my mind pure and my heart faithful, Lord.”
  8. “You shall not steal.”
    — It’s more than property—what about time, attention, honor? Do I “steal” someone’s right to feel seen? “Give me a generous heart, not a selfish one.”
  9. “You shall not bear false witness.”
    — Gossip is insidious. “Help me speak truth in love and defend those who can’t defend themselves.”
  10. “You shall not covet.”
    — That ache in my chest when I scroll and feel less-than? That’s covetousness. “Lord, cultivate contentment in me. Teach me to delight in Your provision.”

🌺 Guardrails or Gateways?

This morning, I was running late and my heart thundered in my chest—fear, worry, frustration. My to-do list rolled on. And then I caught the whisper: “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10). In that moment I realized, the guardrails aren’t barriers; they’re gateways. The guardrails offer a route back to Him when I’ve drifted into chaos. They invite me into shelter.

When I honor the Sabbath, I actually find joy in rest. When I guard my speech, I build up others. These commandments protect me from self-destruction and evil influences.

🙏 Prayer of the Heart

Heavenly Father,
I thank You that You are not distant or cold. You are a loving Father who set these commandments to guide my heart, not condemn it. When I was younger, I saw them as burdens. Now, I’m seeing them through the lens of redemption and transformation. Please:

  • Root me in Your love and not in fear.
  • Illuminate the times I drift without realizing it.
  • Guard my heart from idols—money, approval, even my own agenda.
  • Help me offer rest to my soul and mercy to others.
  • Shape my speech to be truth-laden and life-giving.
  • Give me contentment so covetousness has no foothold.

Thank You that Jesus fulfilled the law and that in Him, I don’t walk in condemnation. Instead, I walk in grace. When I fail, I remember “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us…” (1 John 1:9).

✨ Real-Life Glimmers

This week, I saw the power of the commandments in real life.

  • At work, when gossip bubbled up, I chose to change the subject. My coworker thanked me later—it felt like a mini-mission moment.
  • In a friendship, I offered a listening ear rather than advice. Took the commandment against taking from someone else’s time personally.
  • Internally, I noticed less comparison when I devoted ten minutes of prayer each morning. It’s subtle, but oh, so sweet.

It’s like each commandment is a little lamp lighting my path. They’re not legal chains—they’re kind directions that help me walk with clarity.

💞 My Prayer for You

If you’re reading this and wondering, “Do I really need these ancient rules?” I’d say yes—because they’re not ancient limits, but divine love letters. In a world that tells us to define our own truths, the commandments are like a Compass pointing us back to our Creator.

I pray that you find freedom in each guardrail:

  • Let the first two commandments remind you who you are in Christ and who God is—evoking awe, worship, and alignment.
  • Let the middle commandments shape your rhythms: rest in Him and honor family.
  • Let the last ones guide your ethics: how you speak, act, love, desire.

💌 Nighttime Prayer

Lord Jesus, You are the fulfillment of the law. At night, when the world quiets down, You whisper rest to my soul. Help me to rest not from work but in You. Remind me that I am not defined by my performance or perfection. You see me, You love me—even when I fall short. Thank You for sending Your Spirit to convict, guide, and empower me. May I live tomorrow tethered to Your truth. No cultural trend, no fear, no strife can unmoor me when You are my anchor.

“The Lord will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun‑scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well‑watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” —Isaiah 58:11

With all that I am and all that I will become, I place my trust in You. I want Your commandments to be written on my heart (Jeremiah 31:33), not out of obligation, but out of love.

Amen.

🌙 Final Thought

As a 24-year-old who stumbles, dreams, hopes, and seeks, the Ten Commandments aren’t obsolete—they’re so relevant. They guard the digital spaces where I dwell, the relationships I treasure, and the dreams I chase. They’re not just a list—they’re a lifeline.

So tonight, I tuck into bed, whispering, “Goodnight, Lord. Thank You for Your guardrails. Keep me grounded—and free—in You.” And I rest with that sweet sense of being deeply, truly, unconditionally loved.

Loving God with All Your Heart: What True Devotion Looks Like

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I feel both full and convicted. Full—because You’ve (GOD) been so present in my life lately. Convicted—because I realize there’s so much more of my heart I haven’t truly surrendered to You.

I keep coming back to this verse:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.”
— Deuteronomy 6:5 (NIV)

All. That word has been echoing in my spirit lately. Not some of my heart. Not most of my soul. Not when it’s convenient. But all. Every part of who I am. Every moment. Every breath. Every hidden corner.

And if I’m honest with myself—painfully honest—I don’t know if I’ve really loved You with all my heart. I love You deeply, passionately, with a reverence that shapes my life. But I also know that sometimes I hold pieces of myself back. I cling to control, pride, comfort, and even fear.

This morning during my quiet time, I asked myself a tough question:
What does true devotion to God actually look like?

It’s not just going to church. It’s not just reading my Bible every morning. It’s not even just avoiding sin.

True devotion looks like love in action. It’s consistent surrender. It’s obedience even when it’s hard. It’s valuing Your voice over everyone else’s—even my own. It’s daily saying: Not my will, Lord, but Yours be done.

“If you love me, keep my commandments.”
— John 14:15 (KJV)

That verse wrecks me. Because it shows that love for You isn’t just emotional—it’s practical. Tangible. Expressed through obedience. You’re not asking me for a warm feeling. You’re asking for my life.

And I want to give it to You. Not just on the days I feel “spiritual,” but on the days I feel messy, distracted, or tired. Because You never asked for perfect—You asked for all.

Lord, teach me what it really means to love You with all my heart. I don’t want to be lukewarm. I don’t want to follow You halfway. I want to burn with devotion for You. I want my life to scream, “Jesus is worth everything.”

You showed me something today during my walk. As I passed this tree, I noticed how deeply its roots had grown into the ground. I felt You whisper, “That’s what I want your love to look like—deep, anchored, unshakable.”

I want roots like that. I don’t want to be the girl whose love withers in the heat of trial. I want to be found faithful, even when no one’s watching. Even when it costs me comfort or approval. Even when You’re asking me to do something I don’t understand.

That’s what loving You with all my heart looks like:
Loving You when I don’t feel You.
Loving You when prayers go unanswered.
Loving You when obedience is painful.
Loving You more than my own desires.

I think about Abraham and how he was willing to sacrifice Isaac. That’s what You call true devotion. That story always stretches me, but it also inspires me. Abraham trusted You so much, he was willing to give up the one thing he loved most. I want a heart like that.

“You shall have no other gods before me.”
— Exodus 20:3 (ESV)

No idols. Not relationships, not comfort, not success, not self. Nothing before You. That’s the challenge of true devotion—it requires an undivided heart. And some days, I realize how much work I still have to do.

Lord, search my heart. Tear down anything that competes with You. I don’t want to say I love You while secretly placing my trust in lesser things.

Right now, I want to offer You this simple, sincere prayer:

Father God,

You are worthy of my whole heart. Forgive me for the times I’ve given You only pieces of myself—when I’ve been half-hearted in worship, distracted in prayer, or hesitant in obedience.

Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a right spirit within me. Teach me to love You more deeply, more honestly, more fully. Help me to love You with all my heart, all my soul, all my strength—and not just in theory, but in how I live, speak, and choose each day.

Let my love for You be proven in the quiet places, not just the public ones. Make my heart soft to Your voice, and my feet quick to follow it.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Something I’ve learned lately is that love without discipline doesn’t go very far. That’s why I’ve been asking the Holy Spirit to help me build spiritual habits that reflect devotion—not obligation. It’s not about performing for You. It’s about being near You. Staying close.

So here’s what I’ve been working on:

  • Intentional time with You (not just checking a box)
  • Fasting distractions that pull my heart in different directions
  • Saying yes to uncomfortable obedience—like reaching out to someone I’d rather avoid
  • Choosing purity in how I talk, what I watch, and how I date
  • Praising You first—even before I ask for anything

None of these things earn Your love. But they flow from it. They’re the fruit of a heart that’s in love with You.

True devotion isn’t flashy. It’s steady. It’s showing up every day and saying, “Here I am, Lord. All of me. Again.”

“Blessed are those who keep His testimonies, who seek Him with the whole heart.”
— Psalm 119:2 (NKJV)

With my whole heart. That’s what I want, God. Not half. Not 80%. All.

I know I’ll fall short. I’ll have moments when I waver, when my heart gets pulled by shiny distractions or loud opinions. But even then, I pray You’ll pull me back. Redirect me. Remind me of the cross. Remind me of grace. Because the beautiful thing about loving You is that it’s not about perfection—it’s about pursuit.

And I’m pursuing You, Jesus. Day by day. Thought by thought. Step by step. I want to finish this life having poured it all out for You, with no regrets, no holding back.

So tonight, I’m making a quiet vow:
To love You not just with my words, but with my life.
To love You when no one else sees.
To love You with all my heart—even when it breaks.

Because You are worthy of all of me.

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.

Faith on Display: Is It Meant to Be Shared?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Last night I sat in the corner booth of a cute little mom and pop coffee shop with my Bible open, my journal beside me, and a peppermint tea in hand—just like every Wednesday pretty much. But something about last night felt… different. Not in a dramatic or supernatural way, just a subtle stirring in my spirit that I couldn’t ignore.

There was a girl sitting two tables down. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger. Alone. Earbuds in, but she wasn’t really focused on her phone. She glanced at my Bible more than once. Not judging—more like curious.

I felt this nudge in my spirit—one I’ve felt before and honestly, too often ignored.

“Say something. Smile. Ask her if she wants to talk or pray.”

But I didn’t.

I froze. I told myself, “Maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered,” or “She probably thinks I’m weird.” And then, like a coward, I packed up and left early.

God, I’m sorry. Truly.

I’ve been thinking about this question for weeks now: Is my faith meant to be shared? And the answer is always yes. A loud, resounding yes. But I still hesitate.

Why?

I guess I don’t want to come off as “that girl”—the one who forces faith into every conversation. But then again… why shouldn’t I be that girl if I truly believe this is life-saving truth?

Romans 1:16 says, “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes.”

Am I ashamed? I don’t think so. But maybe I act like I am sometimes. That hurts to write out.

When I really sit with the thought, I think I’m more afraid of rejection than I am of disobedience. That’s heavy.

But Jesus never called us to comfort. He said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

Denying myself includes denying that fear. That worry about awkwardness. That instinct to self-protect.

I think about the early church—how they risked everything to share the gospel. Not just reputation, but their very lives. And me? I can’t even risk an awkward moment in a coffee shop?

Lord, forgive me for my silence.

I remember reading 1 Peter 3:15—“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” But it doesn’t stop there. It says to do this “with gentleness and respect.”

So maybe it’s not about being loud or invasive. It’s about being available. Present. Willing.

What would it look like if I made it a point to be more intentional? Not to push Jesus on people, but to present Him—in how I speak, how I love, how I show up in everyday moments?

Honestly, it’s easy to talk about Jesus when I’m with other Christians. At church, youth group, Bible study—we’re all speaking the same language. But outside those circles, I shrink. And that’s something I desperately want to change.

I don’t want a compartmentalized faith.

I want a faith that overflows. One that people can see and feel, even without a word—but especially with one.

Jesus said in Matthew 5:14-16:
“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden… let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

What good is a light if I’m constantly hiding it under the weight of my own insecurity?

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring out what it looks like to live a bold faith in a quiet, unassuming world. But I know this: I don’t want to live a life that keeps Jesus a secret.

So tonight, I’m praying this prayer.

A Prayer for Boldness and Compassion

Father,
You see every part of me—the parts that want to shout Your name from the rooftops, and the parts that whisper when I should speak boldly. I thank You that You’re patient with me. That You don’t condemn me for my hesitations, but gently invite me deeper.

Lord, give me courage. Not the kind the world gives, but the holy, Spirit-filled kind that can only come from You. The courage to speak when it’s uncomfortable. To offer a word, a smile, a prayer—even when I don’t know how it will be received.

Let me never be ashamed of the Gospel, because I know it’s the power of salvation. Remind me that sharing You isn’t about perfection or performance—it’s about love. Help me love people enough to risk my own pride.

And Lord, make me sensitive. Let me listen well. Let me follow Your nudges. Let me be a light—not a spotlight, not a floodlight—just a gentle, warm flame that points to You.

I surrender my fear, my image, my comfort. Use me, Lord. Not someday. Not when I feel ready. But now.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

So that’s where I was last night. A mix of conviction, hope, and longing. I don’t want to be silent anymore. My faith isn’t just mine—it’s a gift meant to be shared.

Next Wednesday, I’ll go back to that same coffee shop. Maybe she’ll be there again. Maybe she won’t. But either way, I’ll be ready this time.

And even if I’m not, God will be.

Faith Isn’t Just Positive Thinking, It’s Trusting God When It’s Hard

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I feel the weight of a question that’s been whispering in the back of my mind for a while now: What’s the real difference between faith and optimism? At first, I thought maybe it was just semantics—two pretty words that kind of meant the same thing. But after what’s happened this past month—between losing my part-time job, watching Mom go through another round of treatment, and waking up every day with that strange heaviness—I’m beginning to realize they’re definitely not the same.

Optimism says, “Things will work out.”
Faith says, “Even if they don’t, I will still trust Him.”

I think optimism is born from hope in circumstances. But faith? Faith is born from trust in a Person—Jesus. It’s more than a positive outlook. It’s an anchor. And I’m learning that faith doesn’t always come with good feelings or sunny thoughts. Sometimes, it feels like standing in the rain with nothing but a promise to hold onto.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” – Hebrews 11:1

This verse hit me hard today. I’d read it so many times before, but it felt brand new in light of what I’m walking through. Faith isn’t pretending things are okay—it’s believing God is still good, even when everything else is not.

Prayer 1:

Lord Jesus, help me not to confuse Your promises with my preferences. Teach me to walk by faith, not by feelings or favorable outcomes. Let my heart rest in Your faithfulness, even when my world feels uncertain. Amen.

Earlier this morning, I talked to Ava about it over coffee. She said, “Faith is like walking blindfolded, knowing God’s the one guiding your steps. Optimism just hopes you don’t trip.”

That made me laugh—but it also stuck. I’ve been blindly hoping things would just get better. I wanted the storm to pass. But now I’m starting to ask God, “How are You shaping me in this storm?”

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” – 2 Corinthians 5:7

It’s easy to be optimistic when your bank account’s full, when your prayers are answered fast, and when the people you love are thriving. But when none of that is true—when your heart feels like it’s unraveling—what’s left?

Faith.

Raw, unpretty, real faith.

Faith that keeps you praying when it feels like nothing’s changing.
Faith that opens your Bible when your heart feels numb.
Faith that says, “Even here, He is with me.”

Prayer 2:

Father, I don’t want a faith that depends on how I feel or what I see. I want a faith rooted in who You are—unchanging, unfailing, always near. Help me trust You, even in the silence. Amen.

This afternoon I sat by the lake near campus, just watching the water ripple and listening to the breeze. And I thought: optimism stares at the surface and says, “Look how calm it is today.” But faith knows, “Even if the storm comes, I’m in the boat with Jesus.”

It reminds me of when Peter walked on the water. He was fine until he took his eyes off Jesus and looked at the wind. I do that a lot. I let my eyes settle on the news, my bank statement, my fears. And that’s when I start sinking.

“But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink, cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’” – Matthew 14:30

And you know what? Jesus didn’t shame him. He reached out and saved him. That’s the kind of God I have—not a distant judge but a present Savior.

Prayer 3:

Jesus, when my faith falters, be quick to catch me. Remind me to keep my eyes on You—not the waves. I trust that Your hand is never too far from mine. Amen.

Something else came to me tonight. Optimism says, “It’s going to be okay.”
But faith says, “Even if it’s not okay, He is still with me.”

That changes everything. It means I don’t have to fake a smile when my heart aches. I don’t have to pretend I’m strong when I’m tired. I can bring every fear, every doubt, every raw thought straight to Him—and He won’t turn me away.

“Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7

That word “cares” is so gentle. God isn’t annoyed by my tears or overwhelmed by my anxiety. He wants me to come closer, not clean myself up first.

Prayer 4:

God, thank You for being a safe place for my soul. When I feel fragile and weary, help me to remember You care about every detail. Draw me near when I want to run. Amen.

So tonight, here’s where I land:
Optimism looks for signs.
Faith trusts the unseen.

Optimism might help me survive the day, but faith teaches me how to thrive, even in the dark.

And you know what else? Faith doesn’t mean I’ll never feel afraid. It means fear doesn’t get the final say. It means I believe God is doing something good, even when I can’t understand it yet.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” – Romans 8:28

That “all things” part isn’t just the sweet moments. It’s the hard ones too. The heartbreaks. The waiting seasons. The losses. All of it. God doesn’t waste anything.

Prayer 5:

Lord, make my heart brave—not because I know the future, but because I know You. Let my faith grow deep roots, so even when storms come, I won’t be shaken. Use this season for Your glory, even when I don’t understand it yet. Amen.

Well, I think I’ll close this page and sit with Him a little longer tonight. Maybe read a Psalm, maybe just sit in the quiet. I’m learning that silence isn’t always emptiness. Sometimes, it’s where God speaks the loudest.

Please Lord, redeem California And protect this country from Gavin Newsom

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd


I am so frustrated right now. I can hardly focus on anything else but this heavy, burning weight in my heart about what’s happening in California—and what could happen to this entire country if people don’t wake up. I just need to pour it all out here, because I can’t yell it from the rooftops the way I want to, and I’m honestly too angry to speak to people about it without it turning into a fight. So I’m going to give it to You, Lord, raw and real.

Click Here to Watch How Disgraceful Gavin Newsom Really Is

Scripture #1 – Psalm 94:16
“Who will rise up for me against the wicked? Who will take a stand for me against evildoers?”
Lord, I feel like this verse is my whole mood lately. Who is standing up against the wicked policies in California? Who’s fighting for the unborn? For the children? For families who just want to raise their kids without the government shoving perversion, confusion, and chaos into their homes? I’m begging You to raise up leaders in California who love You, who fear You, and who will stand up against Gavin Newsom and everything he represents.

Prayer #1
Father God, I pray right now for the people of California. Open their eyes. Tear the veil off their faces. Show them what’s really happening. Give them wisdom to vote out Gavin Newsom. Let truth pierce through the deception and emotional manipulation. Raise up godly voices with courage. Silence the voices of confusion and darkness. Amen.

I look at what California has become under Newsom, and it makes me sick. Literal sanctuary for abortion—even pushing for full-term and post-birth killing. Schools hiding gender transitions from parents. Drag shows for kids. Skyrocketing crime. Taxes. Fires. Homelessness. People fleeing the state because they can’t take it anymore. And what does Gavin do? Smile for the cameras and pretend it’s all part of some glorious progressive utopia. It’s delusional. It’s evil.

And what’s worse is that he thinks he deserves to be President. President of the United States?!? God, I can’t even stomach the thought.

Scripture #2 – Isaiah 5:20
“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness…”
Yes, Lord. That’s exactly what’s happening. They’re painting sin as virtue. They’re labeling righteousness as bigotry. And this man is leading the charge with his fake smile and soft voice, acting like he’s some moral hero when he’s literally spitting on Your Word and leading people astray.

Prayer #2
Jesus, I pray You would block Gavin Newsom from ever becoming President. Shut every door. Let the plans of the wicked be exposed and fall apart. Guard our nation from even entertaining the idea. Don’t let charisma or polished words deceive people. Give voters discernment. Give us courage to say “No.” We don’t need another puppet of darkness in the White House. Amen.

I know anger isn’t supposed to rule me. I’m not proud of how intense this is, but how can I not feel furious? He uses religion when it benefits him—quoting Jesus to justify killing babies. Quoting scripture to support policies that break Your commandments. It’s blasphemy. And people eat it up because it’s coated in political correctness and “tolerance.”

Scripture #3 – Proverbs 29:2
“When the righteous are in authority, the people rejoice: but when the wicked rule, the people mourn.”
That’s what California is doing—mourning. Silently, loudly, desperately. People are mourning their neighborhoods, their safety, their faith, their families, their very sanity under the weight of wicked leadership.

Prayer #3
God, raise up righteous leaders. We need bold men and women who are rooted in Your truth and not afraid to speak it. I pray for local elections, school boards, governors—let there be a holy uprising of people who are not ashamed of the Gospel. And may California, of all places, be a place where revival breaks out—not just spiritually, but politically and morally. Amen.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone else my age even cares. Most of them are either totally brainwashed or too afraid to say anything because it’s “unpopular.” But silence is complicity. And I’m not staying silent. I won’t. If that means losing friends, fine. If that means being the “crazy Christian girl” in the group chat, so be it. I care more about pleasing God than fitting in.

Scripture #4 – Galatians 1:10
“Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
That hits hard. I am a servant of Christ. I will speak truth, even when it costs me. Even if I’m mocked or labeled “intolerant.” Jesus wasn’t crucified for being politically correct. He was crucified for being right.

Prayer #4
Jesus, give me the boldness to speak the truth in love. Help me to not be ruled by anger, but to let it drive me toward action. Give me grace and clarity. Let my words reflect Your heart, even when I’m confronting darkness. And help others my age to rise up too. Light a fire in this generation. Amen.

I keep praying for California. It’s where so much influence comes from—media, tech, culture. If it stays under corrupt leadership, the rest of the nation suffers. And Gavin Newsom is a huge part of the problem. He’s not just a symptom—he’s a driver. A slick, dangerous one.

Scripture #5 – Ephesians 5:11
“Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.”
I will not pretend like he’s just “a different opinion.” This is about life and death, truth and lies, freedom and oppression. I will expose the lies. And I’ll keep praying that others will too.

Prayer #5
God, expose Gavin Newsom for who he truly is. Let the media spin fall flat. Let people see the spiritual truth behind his policies. Don’t let deception win. And please—PLEASE—do not let this man ever become President. Protect this country. Wake us up before it’s too late. In Jesus’ powerful name, Amen.

I know You’re in control, Lord. That gives me peace, even when I feel overwhelmed. I trust You. I do. I just needed to vent. To process. To cry out. Because I don’t want to see America fall deeper into darkness. I don’t want my future kids growing up in a nation run by leaders who mock Your design.

Please, Lord… redeem California. And protect this country from Gavin Newsom.

Evil Los Angeles Rioters: 4 Prayers for America’s Police Officers

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I saw another clip today—more fires, more screaming, more broken glass and broken people. It’s all happening in Los Angeles again, and other cities too. I feel this awful weight in my chest, like I’m watching the heart of our country bleed out in slow motion. I just want to run somewhere quiet and safe, where the world isn’t upside down.

But most of all, I just keep thinking about the police officers—those men and women who go into the chaos every single day with a badge on their chest and targets on their backs. God, help them.

It feels like no one is praying for them anymore. Or maybe they are, but not loud enough. The world is shouting with so much anger that I wonder if our quiet prayers even get heard. But I have to believe they do. I have to.

Tonight, I prayed harder than I have in weeks. Not for myself, or even for peace in general—but specifically for every police officer in this country. The good ones. The tired ones. The scared ones. The brave ones. The ones who still show up even when they’re hated for just putting on the uniform.

I wrote down five prayers to keep in my Bible, and maybe I’ll print them and put them in my car or post them somewhere. Maybe someone else needs to pray them too.

Prayer 1: For Divine Protection
Dear Lord, please place Your heavenly protection around every police officer tonight. Whether they’re on duty in Los Angeles or in a quiet rural town, cover them with Your shield. Let no weapon formed against them prosper. Hold them close when they walk into danger, and guide their steps away from traps set by evil. Let them come home to their families safely. Please, Father, be their armor.

Prayer 2: For Peace in the Midst of Chaos
God, bring peace into the hearts of officers who are facing hostile crowds and terrifying situations. Let them feel Your presence in the noise. When bricks are thrown, when sirens scream, when their hands shake from adrenaline, remind them that they are never alone. Be their calm, their stillness in the storm. Let them breathe You in when everything around them feels like it’s falling apart.

Prayer 3: For Moral Strength and Discernment
Father, give officers the strength to do what is right even when it’s hard. Let them be just, wise, and merciful. Help them discern truth in a world full of lies and deception. May they reflect Your light in dark places, and make decisions with courage and integrity. Lord, we know not every officer is perfect, but help them strive to be righteous in every moment.

Prayer 4: For Their Families
Lord, please bless the families who say goodbye every morning not knowing if they’ll say hello again. Comfort the wives, husbands, parents, and children who wait by the door or the phone. Give them peace that surpasses understanding. Let them feel Your arms wrapped around them when anxiety creeps in. Protect not just the officers—but everyone who loves them.

Sometimes I feel silly writing things like this down, like maybe people would roll their eyes if they knew how much I care. But I do. I care so much it hurts. And I think part of that is because I’ve seen the other side. I’ve had friends in law enforcement. I’ve prayed with them, cried with them, and once even went to a funeral for one of them. He was only 30. Shot trying to help someone who was being robbed.

People don’t see that side. They see uniforms and headlines. They forget the tears. They forget that officers have hearts, that they go home and kiss their kids goodnight just like everyone else. And now, in this season of riots and rage, it feels like we’ve stopped listening. We’ve let hate be louder than hope.

But I won’t stop praying. Even if I’m the only one in my circle who does. Even if people think it’s old-fashioned or naive. I believe that prayer moves mountains. I believe that Jesus walks with our police officers, especially in the middle of the fire. And if no one else will say their names in prayer—I will.

So tonight, as my candles flicker and the wind blows outside, I lift every officer’s name up to heaven. The ones I know, and the ones I don’t. The ones who feel invisible. The ones who are barely holding on. The ones who still believe in protecting and serving, even when it costs everything.

Lord, hold them close. Don’t let go of them.

And maybe—just maybe—heal us too.

Jehovah-Jireh: Relax and Never Forget That God is Always in Control

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This was a very difficult post for me to write, although it may not seem like it while reading, but this is my 5th draft, and I’m still not sure if it’s as polished as I hoped it would be, but I started writing this a few weeks ago, and have decided to hit “PUBLISH”. I do hope it’s worthy of your eyes. God bless!

Please enjoy………

If you were to ask me which name of God means the most to me, I wouldn’t even hesitate. Without a doubt, it’s Jehovah-Jireh — “The Lord Will Provide.” It’s one of those names that has become deeply personal over the years. Not just a theological concept or something I read about once in a devotional, but a truth that I’ve had to cling to through real-life moments of fear, uncertainty, and waiting.

The first time this name shows up in Scripture is in Genesis 22, and honestly, every time I read that story, it hits a little different. It’s the one where God tells Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac — the very child God had promised him. Like, imagine that. You finally get the promise you’ve waited years and years for, and now God asks you to lay it on the altar? That’s intense.

So Abraham and Isaac climb up Mount Moriah. And somewhere along the way, Isaac notices something’s off. He looks around and goes, “Hey Dad, we’ve got the fire and the wood, but where’s the lamb for the burnt offering?” (Genesis 22:7). And Abraham, in what I imagine was a mix of steady faith and a trembling heart, answers, “God will provide for Himself the lamb for the burnt offering, my son.”

Spoiler alert (but also Bible history): just as Abraham is about to sacrifice Isaac, God stops him. An angel of the Lord calls out to him, and Abraham looks up to see a ram caught in a nearby thicket. God had already placed that ram there — ahead of time, before Abraham or Isaac even started their climb. Abraham ends up naming that place Jehovah-Jireh, saying, “On the mountain of the Lord it will be provided” (Genesis 22:14).

That phrase — Jehovah-Jireh — literally means “The Lord will provide,” but there’s something deeper in the original Hebrew. It carries the idea of seeing ahead of time. God doesn’t just provide in the moment; He sees your need before you even know you have one. He’s already made a way. He’s already put the ram in the thicket.

That gets me every time.

Because here’s the thing: life is hard. I’m 24, and while I’m still learning and growing (a lot!), I’ve already been through enough to know that life rarely goes according to plan. The economy is wild. Friendships change. Health scares show up out of nowhere. Doors close without warning. Sometimes it feels like everything is spinning, and I’m doing my best to hold it all together with coffee, prayer, and a halfway decent Spotify worship playlist.

But in the middle of all that chaos, I come back to Jehovah-Jireh. I come back to the God who provides — the God who sees me and knows what I need, even when I don’t know how to ask for it.

If I’m being honest, one of my biggest struggles is control. I like to have a plan. I like to know what’s next. I’m that girl with the color-coded planner, the backup plans, and the contingency ideas just in case things don’t go perfectly. Letting go and trusting in God does come naturally for me, but trusting in others does not. It’s like getting on an airplane and handing over control to a pilot I’ve never met. I have no idea what they’re doing, how they’re navigating, or what turbulence is coming — but I have to trust they’ll get me safely to my destination.

That’s what walking with God is like. He sees the storm clouds before we even feel the raindrops. He knows which paths are dangerous and which ones will grow us. And He knows exactly when to bring the ram into view.

I’ve had seasons where provision looked like a last-minute job offer I didn’t expect. Other times, it was a friend texting at just the right moment to pray with me. I’ve seen God provide financially when I didn’t know how I’d pay rent. I’ve seen Him provide peace that didn’t make sense and guidance when I felt totally lost.

Provision isn’t always flashy. Sometimes it’s quiet — a small shift in your heart, a whisper of hope, a sense that even though you don’t have the full answer yet, you’re not alone. Jehovah-Jireh shows up in the details, in the waiting, and even in the heartbreak.

We tend to think that provision always means getting what we want — the dream job, the healing, the breakthrough. But sometimes, God provides in the not yet. Sometimes, His provision is the strength to endure. The grace to wait well. The peace that doesn’t come from circumstances, but from knowing He’s near.

God is never surprised. Like, ever. Nothing catches Him off guard. That test result? He saw it coming. That sudden layoff? He already had a plan. That friendship that fell apart? He knows what it means, and He knows how to heal you. He’s not distant. He’s not panicking. He’s not playing catch-up.

He is Jehovah-Jireh.

So here’s what I’m learning to do (imperfectly, but intentionally): I’m learning to take my hands off the wheel. I’m learning to stop trying to run the show and instead, trust that God is already ahead of me. I don’t have to manipulate things into working out. I don’t have to stress myself sick trying to make sure everything goes perfectly. My job is obedience and trust. His job is provision and timing.

If you’re in a season where you don’t see the ram yet — where you’re climbing the mountain and you’re tired and confused and wondering what in the world God is doing — take heart. He’s not late. He hasn’t forgotten you. The thicket is closer than you think.

Maybe the provision won’t look like what you expected. Maybe it’ll stretch your faith and require more waiting than you planned for. But you can trust that God will provide. Because it’s not just what He does — it’s who He is.

So today, even if your world feels unstable and your heart feels heavy, remember the God of Abraham. Remember the God who sees in advance. Remember Jehovah-Jireh.

And take a deep breath — He’s already gone ahead of you.