John 10:10 – The Christian Tech-Nerd

Dear Jesus,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John 10:10 says:

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

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

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

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

Romans 8:28 reminds me:

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

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

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

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

Let me pray it out loud:

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

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

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

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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

As I sit down to write this, I can still feel the tension in my shoulders from all the stress I carried around like a badge of honor. I didn’t sleep well last night. My mind kept spinning with “what ifs”—what if this doesn’t work out? What if that falls through? What if I’m not enough? The future felt like this giant foggy unknown pressing in on me like a weight.

But then, the Holy Spirit gently whispered to my soul this morning as I opened my Bible to Matthew 6:34:

“Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

And I felt that Word hit me like a wake-up call.

Jesus commanded us not to worry. Not suggested. Not advised. Commanded. That’s where I feel the rub—how often we act like worry is just a personality trait instead of a form of disobedience. We normalize anxiety and stress like they’re part of being human, but Jesus calls us to a higher standard. I felt convicted, not condemned. He doesn’t shame us for worrying, but He definitely doesn’t coddle our excuses either. That’s love. Real love.

It’s almost like I heard Him saying to me: “Daughter, I didn’t design you to carry the weight of tomorrow. I give you strength for TODAY. Walk in it.”

Later, I was drawn to Psalm 68:19, where it says:

“Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”

Daily. Not weekly. Not monthly. Not “when it gets really bad.” DAILY. That means today. That means now. That means He’s not ignoring the things that keep me up at night or the pressures I pretend don’t bother me. He’s right here, ready to carry the weight I keep trying to muscle through alone. Why do I keep forgetting that?

I also reflected on Matthew 6:11, part of the Lord’s Prayer:

“Give us today our daily bread.”

Today’s. Not tomorrow’s. Not next month’s. Not “bread for when I’m married” or “bread for when the job comes through” or “bread for when everything makes sense.” TODAY’S bread. That’s what I’m supposed to pray for. That’s all I’m promised.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: sometimes I don’t want just today’s portion. I want to see the whole staircase. I want certainty. I want control. And God, in His mercy, denies me that because He’s more interested in my trust than my temporary peace of mind.

There’s a quote I came across today that punched me in the gut (in the best way):

“Do not let the worries of tomorrow affect your relationship with God today.”

That hit hard. Because how often do I do exactly that? How often do I let anxiety put distance between me and the One who’s holding it all together? I’ll skip prayer time because I’m “too overwhelmed,” not realizing the very thing I need is time in His presence.

So here’s what I did today: I put down my phone. I got on my knees. And I prayed this:

Lord Jesus, I surrender my illusions of control. I place today in Your hands, fully, completely, with trembling trust. Help me to stop dragging tomorrow’s troubles into today’s grace. Help me to see You clearly in the chaos, to believe You’re good even when I’m uncertain. Give me strength for today’s battle, joy for today’s blessings, and peace for today’s journey. You are my portion. You are enough. Teach me to live one day at a time, walking step by step with You. Amen.

I don’t have all the answers. But I don’t need to. That’s the beauty of this walk. I just need to hold His hand.

To anyone reading this, maybe you’re like me—overthinking, overfunctioning, overstressing. Hear me when I say this with love and a bit of holy boldness: Stop it. Jesus died for more than your eternal salvation; He died to give you abundant life today (John 10:10). Not someday. Not “when things calm down.” Today.

So, what’s stealing your joy today? What’s trying to rob your peace? Is it a deadline? A diagnosis? A disappointment? A delay? Bring it to Him. All of it. He can take it. He wants it.

You don’t have to fake peace. You can receive it.

You don’t have to carry the weight. He already did on Calvary.

You don’t have to know the whole plan. Just know the Planner.

I’m learning that living one day at a time isn’t about laziness or apathy—it’s about radical faith. It’s about saying, “God, I trust You with what I cannot see, and I will be faithful with what I can.”

And if all I do today is love Him well, lean on Him deeply, and walk with Him closely—then that is more than enough.

So, here’s to tomorrow… whenever it comes. But for now?
Today belongs to Jesus. And so do I.

Tag: John 10:10

One Sunrise at a Time