Tag: Lord

Whispers of the Savior: Learning to Listen For Jesus

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Lord, I need to speak to You tonight—not in the quiet polite way, but with my whole heart. Sometimes I get so frustrated, so angry that I can’t hear You clearly, and I hate that about myself. I know You’re there. I know You’re calling me. Jeremiah 33:3 says, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.” And yet, I feel like I’m shouting into a void sometimes. Why is it so hard for me to hear You when You promise so clearly that You will speak?

Christian Tech Nerd Quick Quiz!

Let’s see who can answer the below question correctly…..

If a woman has an abortion, can she still get into heaven?

TAP HERE FOR “YES, SHE CAN STILL FIND A WAY TO REDEMPTION”

TAP HERE FOR: “UNFORTUNATELY NO, YOU’LL SPEND ETERNITY IN HELL FOR HAVING AN ABORTION”

I think the real struggle is my own mind. It’s chaotic. It’s noisy. I worry about bills, relationships, the future, what other people think of me, and in the middle of all that, how am I supposed to hear You? How am I supposed to know Your will when my thoughts are scattered and my heart is restless? Lord, forgive me. Forgive me for letting my mind wander away from You. Forgive me for letting the world’s distractions drown out Your voice.

Today, I tried to sit quietly with Your Word, really look at it, not just skim. I opened my Bible and landed on Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Be still. It sounds so simple when You say it, but it is the hardest thing in the world to do! I want to be still, Lord. I want to quiet my thoughts and listen. But the world is loud, and I am stubborn, and my emotions get the better of me. I get angry at circumstances, at people, at myself. But You—You are still. And You are perfect.

I know that hearing You isn’t about an audible voice. I’ve read that many times, but sometimes I catch myself hoping for it anyway, like I need a tangible sign to validate that You’re really speaking to me. And maybe that’s pride. Maybe I don’t trust You enough to believe Your guidance comes quietly, deep in my inner being, as a soft nudging, a conviction in my soul. Help me trust that, Lord. Help me to be sensitive to the ways You speak, whether through Your Word, through other people, or through the stirring of my own heart.

Sometimes I get frustrated because I feel like I try, Lord. I really try. I pray. I read. I meditate. I focus. But it still feels like I miss You. Am I looking in the wrong places? Am I impatient? I know You don’t work on my schedule, and yet my human side wants immediate answers, clear directions, step-by-step guidance. I want You to show me the path like a neon sign. But Your ways are higher than my ways, Lord, and Your thoughts are beyond me (Isaiah 55:8-9). So I have to let go of my need to control, to micromanage, to demand clarity, and just listen. Really listen.

Lord, I pray for discernment. Teach me to recognize Your voice among all the noise. Teach me to respond with obedience, even when Your guidance doesn’t make sense to my human mind. Teach me to trust that You are guiding me, even when the path looks uncertain or scary. I want to hear You. I need to hear You. Not just when it’s convenient, not just when it aligns with what I already want, but all the time. In my mundane moments, in my moments of anxiety, in my anger, in my sadness. I want You to be my constant.

Sometimes I feel angry at myself for not hearing You clearly before. I think, “Why did I ignore that prompting? Why did I question Your guidance?” And then I remember that You are patient with me. Your love is relentless. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Lord, I’m broken, and I am crushed in spirit at times, and yet You are still here. You are not distant. You are not silent. You are close. And that should be enough to make me listen harder, to make me pay attention with everything in me.

I need You, Jesus. I need Your guidance, Your wisdom, Your comfort, Your correction. I don’t want to walk this life relying on my own understanding because I see where that leads me—it leads me to confusion, to bitterness, to anger, to disappointment. But walking with You leads to life, leads to peace, leads to clarity. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “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.” I want that trust, Lord. I want to submit fully, even when it stings or when it’s hard.

Father, I pray that You sharpen my ears. Not just my physical ears, but my spiritual ears. Tune my heart so I can hear Your gentle whispers guiding me in decisions big and small. Help me recognize the ways You are speaking through Scripture, through prayer, through other believers, through the circumstances of my life. Help me to act, Lord. I don’t want to hear and do nothing. I don’t want to be passive. I want to follow. I want to obey. I want to respond in faith, not hesitation.

And Lord, if I have to be angry, let it be a holy anger—anger at sin, at injustice, at fear that clouds my hearing, at myself when I resist You. But let that anger drive me to You, not away from You. Let it sharpen my desire to listen, not distract me from it. Let it strengthen my resolve to stay in Your Word daily, to call out to You without ceasing, and to open my heart to the guidance You provide, even when it challenges me.

Jesus, I want to hear You more. I want to love You more. I want to follow You more. Help me to be attentive, to be quiet, to trust. Let me call on You and actually wait for the answer, knowing that You will speak great and unsearchable things into my life if I am willing to listen. Jeremiah 33:3 reminds me that You are not silent. You are ready to answer. You are ready to reveal. I just have to open my ears, open my heart, and not run from Your voice.

Thank You for being patient with me. Thank You for never leaving me, even when I am stubborn, distracted, or angry. Thank You for being my constant guide, my anchor, my Father, my Savior. Lord, help me hear You today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Help me live a life tuned to Your voice, obedient to Your guidance, and full of love for You. Amen.

My Fellow Christians, Trust in the Lord Always, Please

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This morning I come to these pages with my heart twisted in a tangle of compassion, disappointment, and a simmering anger I keep trying to hand over to God. I feel like I’m watching people I love drift toward fear—fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of not fitting into some man-made standard. And I want to shake them and hold them all at once. I want to cry, “My fellow Christians, trust in the Lord always, please.” Every time I open Scripture, God reminds me that fear of people leads only to chains. “Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe.” (Proverbs 29:25) Yet so many of us still build our lives around pleasing other people instead of pleasing Him.

Jesus warned us about this so clearly. In Luke 12:4–5, He tells us not to fear those who can only harm the body but to fear God, who holds our eternity. And I know this in my mind. I repeat it in prayer. I speak it out loud when my thoughts get noisy. But then something happens—someone’s comment, someone’s threat, someone’s disapproval—and suddenly even the strongest believers I know shrink back, worried about what mere humans think. And I get frustrated, not because I feel superior, but because I know that prison all too well. I lived in it for years. I remember molding myself like clay in other people’s hands just so they wouldn’t judge me. It nearly crushed my soul.

Christian Tech Nerd Quick Quiz!

Let’s see who can answer the below question correctly…..

If a woman has an abortion, can she still get into heaven?

TAP HERE FOR “YES, SHE CAN STILL FIND A WAY TO REDEMPTION”

TAP HERE FOR: “UNFORTUNATELY NO, YOU’LL SPEND ETERNITY IN HELL FOR HAVING AN ABORTION”

Sometimes I still feel that old pressure creeping back. When I sense someone’s disappointment in me, something inside me tenses. But then the Holy Spirit nudges me gently and sometimes not-so-gently: Stand firm. Trust God. Don’t give them your peace. I whisper Psalm 56:11 to myself: “In God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?” It steadies me when everything else is shaking. But why does it feel like so many of my brothers and sisters forget this the moment life gets loud? Why do we crumble the second the world pushes back?

I guess what frustrates me most is watching believers exchange the shelter of God for the false safety of people’s approval. It’s like standing in the shadow of the Almighty, then running out into a storm because someone outside called your name. We act like we’re safer relying on human praise than divine protection. And it breaks my heart. It angers me. It exhausts me. Because the Lord offers us freedom, but fear makes us kneel before people as if they hold our future in their hands. They don’t. They never have.

Be The First to Subscribe to my YouTube Channel!

And yet—even in my frustration—compassion rises in me. I know how hard it is to trust God when everything feels uncertain. I know what it’s like to feel exposed, misunderstood, or judged. I know what it’s like to worry that obedience might cost you relationships, comfort, or opportunities. But I also know the sweetness of God’s protection. I know the strength that blooms when you finally surrender the need to please everyone. I know the peace that settles into your bones when you decide His voice is enough.

Last night I prayed for the church with a heaviness I couldn’t shake. I asked God to wake us up, shake us free, burn away our fear, and restore our reverence for Him alone. I asked Him to give courage to the timid, reassurance to the anxious, and holy stubbornness to those who need to stand their ground. I asked Him to remind us that safety is not found in blending in but in abiding in Him. And I asked Him to keep my own heart from falling into the same traps I see in others. Even in frustration, I know I’m not above the very struggles I grieve.

So here is my prayer for this morning, simple and raw:


Please keep me safe, O LORD, from those who oppose me and would do me harm. Guard my spirit from the fear of people. Make my life a holy praise to honor You. Strengthen every believer who is tempted to bow to the opinions of others. Break every chain of fear that keeps us from trusting You with our whole hearts. Remind us that You alone are our refuge, our fortress, our forever safety. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

And may tomorrow find me trusting You more than today.

Be The First to Subscribe to my YouTube Channel!

Where’s God?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can’t stop asking it, and I hate that I do—Where are you, God? I feel myself screaming this into the void sometimes, my chest tight, my hands trembling. I know the answer, of course. I believe it with every fiber of me. Yet believing and feeling are not the same thing, are they? And my feelings? They’re tired. They’re frustrated. They’re angry.

Christian Tech Nerd Quick Quiz!

Let’s see who can answer the below question correctly…..

If a woman has an abortion, can she still get into heaven?

TAP HERE FOR “YES, SHE CAN STILL FIND A WAY TO REDEMPTION”

TAP HERE FOR: “UNFORTUNATELY NO, YOU’LL SPEND ETERNITY IN HELL FOR HAVING AN ABORTION”

Isaiah 55:8–9 keeps whispering in my mind: “My thoughts are not like your thoughts. Your ways are not like my ways. Just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

I underline the word like every time I read it. It burns. God’s thoughts are not like mine. They’re not even in the same neighborhood. I worry about my body. He worries about my soul. I want a promotion at work, a little more stability. He wants to raise the dead. I avoid pain and long for comfort. He uses pain to bring peace. I want to live before I die. He says, die so you can live. We rejoice at our wins. He rejoices at our confessions.

I want to scream sometimes because I can’t see this plane He operates on. I’m here, stumbling over potholes in my life, getting cut by people I thought I could trust, struggling with sins I can’t seem to conquer, and I feel like I’m drowning. But He? He’s in a different dimension. His throne is higher than my mess. And I hate that I have to trust that without seeing it.

Lord, forgive me for the anger. Forgive me for the doubt. I feel it in my chest like fire and ice at the same time. Yet I know that even my anger is not outside your knowledge. Even my fury is not beyond your control.

What controls me doesn’t control Him. What troubles me doesn’t trouble Him. What fatigues me doesn’t fatigue Him. An eagle does not flinch at traffic. A whale does not panic during a hurricane. A lion does not cower at a mouse. And yet I am quaking at so much less. How much more, then, is God able to soar above, plunge beneath, and step over the troubles of this earth? Matthew 19:26: “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

I can’t help but ask: How can God be everywhere at once? How can He hear all the prayers whispered in crowded churches, shouted in bedrooms, whispered in car rides? How can He be Father, Son, and Spirit, all at once? And yet, perhaps it’s because heaven runs on different physics than this messy, broken earth. Perhaps our understanding is simply too small.

So I pray. I pray with trembling hands but with faith as well. I pray because He is above, and yet bends low. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” And that’s the paradox that keeps me alive: He is everywhere above, yet He bends close enough to touch my tears.

I confess, Diary, I want certainty. I want to see the blueprint, the grand design. But I know better. I know that trusting God’s dimension, His plane, His realm, is all I can do. And that is enough. He does not need my understanding. He needs my faith.

Lord Jesus, remind me today that you are the ruler of the universe. Remind me that even when I cannot trace your steps or comprehend your ways, you are working. Remind me to lift my eyes, to see your hand in the small things, to rejoice in confession, to bend my knee in humility.

I want to stop my petty measuring of life against my own desires. I want to stop resenting the pain that He allows. I want to trust that what seems like chaos is just a shadow of His greater plan. I want to rest, Diary. Truly rest, in the knowledge that He bends near, that He hears, that He sees, that He loves.

God, I entrust you with my future. I entrust you with my life. Protect my soul, guide my feet, teach me patience, refine me through this fire. I don’t want just comfort—I want endurance. I don’t want just temporary peace—I want eternal joy. Help me to remember that Your thoughts are not mine, and yet they are good. Help me to remember that Your ways are not mine, and yet they are righteous.

Amen.

And so I close my eyes tonight, clinging to the truth, even when my heart thrashes: God is in heaven, God is in control, and God is bending close to me. I don’t have to see the whole picture to know that it is perfect. I don’t have to understand every step to know that He is faithful. And somehow, that is enough to keep breathing, to keep praying, to keep living in hope—even when the world is loud, and the pain is raw, and my anger is real.

Lord, help me trust your higher ways.

God’s Love Is Unconditional

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today I sat quietly with my Bible open to Luke 15:11–24. I’ve read the parable of the prodigal son many times, but somehow, this morning it settled on me in a deeper, more personal way. Maybe it’s because lately I’ve been wrestling with guilt that lingers like a shadow—guilt from mistakes I’ve made, expectations I haven’t met, and moments when I’ve wandered farther from God than I ever intended to. And yet, in this story, I see a Father who does not measure out His love according to my behavior, my consistency, or my ability to keep everything together. I see a Father whose love rushes toward me even when I feel least deserving of it.

As I read, I could almost picture the younger son rehearsing his speech on the long road home—practicing the words he hopes will soften his father’s disappointment: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” I imagine his voice trembling as he tries to prepare for rejection or punishment. But the part that grips me most is that he never gets to finish that speech. His father doesn’t even let him. Instead, Scripture says, “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.”

Every single time I read that, something in me breaks open. The Father ran. He ran toward the one who squandered everything, toward the one who had been reckless and selfish, toward the one who betrayed his love. And He didn’t hesitate—not for a moment.

Lord, why is it so hard for me to believe You treat me like that? Why do I fall into the same trap of thinking I need to earn Your affection, compensate for my failures, or prove that I’m worth loving?

Sometimes I project onto You the reactions I’ve experienced in people—conditional acceptance, approval that hinges on performance, affection that can shift without warning. But You’re not like that. You never have been. “I will be a Father to you, and you shall be My sons and daughters,” You tell me in 2 Corinthians 6:18. You don’t say, “I might be your Father if you behave.” You declare Your love as a certainty, a settled truth. Today I needed that reminder more than anything.

As I sit with this parable, I feel You gently exposing the way I’ve been approaching You—not as a beloved daughter, but as a servant who thinks she has to earn back her place. I come with apologies, promises, and anxiety, hoping You’ll let me back in. But You don’t negotiate. You don’t stand at a distance with crossed arms. You run toward me with compassion. You wrap me in Your love before I can even explain myself.

God, thank You that Your love doesn’t depend on me. Thank You that You welcome me back even when I’ve wandered off the path You set for me. The prodigal son didn’t earn his father’s embrace, and I can’t earn Yours. This truth brings such freedom, and yet I still struggle to fully accept it.

Sometimes I wonder if the son hesitated at the edge of the property—if he felt fear knotting in his stomach, if he paused before taking those final steps. That hesitation feels familiar. There are moments when I’m ashamed to come to You because I think my sin or my inconsistency has somehow changed Your heart toward me. But You remind me again and again that nothing I’ve done can dim Your love. “For I am convinced that neither death nor life… will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Lord, I want to rest in that truth. I want my heart to stop striving for a place it already has.

Father, today I bring You all the parts of me that feel messy, broken, or lost. I lay before You the mistakes that still echo in my mind, the moments when I chose my own way, and the fears that make me hesitate to trust Your goodness. Please help me to see myself the way You see me—not as a servant trying to earn a place at the table, but as a daughter who already belongs there.

I imagine what it must have been like for the son to be robed in his father’s best garment—to feel the fabric wrap around him like dignity restored. I picture the ring sliding onto his finger, the sign of authority, belonging, identity. The sandals placed on his feet, the feast prepared in his honor, the music beginning, and the household rejoicing. All for someone who expected rejection. All for someone who felt unworthy. That kind of love feels almost too extravagant, too overwhelming, but that’s exactly the point. You don’t love as the world loves. Your love is perfect, unconditional, and unchanging.

Jesus, I think about the times I’ve wandered—maybe not into physical places of rebellion, but into emotional and spiritual ones. Times when I’ve let anxiety lead me away from Your peace. Times when I’ve allowed discouragement to push me into self-reliance. Times when I’ve sought affirmation from people instead of from You. And each time, You’ve waited for me with patience that humbles me. You’ve whispered truth into my confusion, reminded me of who I am, and drawn me back with kindness.

Lord, I praise You because even when I feel lost, You never lose sight of me. Even when I distance myself, Your love remains steady. And even when I fall short, You restore me gently without hesitation.

Father, today I come before You with a grateful heart. Thank You for the reminder of Your unconditional love. Thank You that Your arms are always open, always welcoming, always full of compassion. Help me let go of the fear that I have to work for Your affection. Teach me to receive Your grace with humility and joy. Remind me that I am Your daughter—not because I earned it, but because You chose me. Lord, help me to live in the freedom of being loved without condition. And when I wander, please bring me home quickly. Amen.

As I reflect, I realize how often I focus on my failures, while You focus on my identity. You don’t look at my past and call me unworthy. You look at me and call me Yours. You see not the mess I’ve made, but the person You created me to be—the woman You’re shaping, the daughter You delight in.

That truth settles over me like warmth. It softens something inside me that has been tense for too long.

I think of the joy in the father’s voice when he said, “For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” That joy wasn’t cautious or restrained. It was full. It was loud. It was overflowing. Sometimes I forget that You rejoice over me—not reluctantly, not quietly, but gladly. “The Lord your God… will rejoice over you with singing.” It amazes me that Your love is not just patient but celebratory.

Lord, thank You that my story is never too broken for redemption. Thank You that no matter how far I drift, You always make a way back. Thank You that Your love doesn’t fade with my failures or strengthen with my successes. It simply is—constant, steady, true.

Tonight, as I prepare for rest, I want to carry the image of Your open arms with me. I want it imprinted on my heart so deeply that when guilt or fear tries to whisper lies, I will remember the truth of who You are. A Father who runs. A Father who embraces. A Father who restores. A Father who celebrates my return every single time.

Lord, let my life reflect that love—toward myself, toward others, and toward You. Help me walk in the confidence of a daughter who knows she is cherished. Help me show compassion the way You’ve shown it to me. And help me rest, truly rest, in the security of Your grace.

Amen

Let Jesus Inspire and Motivate You Today

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Are you feeling overwhelmed by the weight of life? Do you sometimes feel lost, burdened, or simply in need of a reminder that you’re not alone? If so, take heart—you are not forgotten, and you are deeply loved. In the middle of the noise, stress, and uncertainty that life often brings, there is still a voice that speaks peace, truth, and purpose into your life. That voice is Jesus Christ.

Right now, wherever you are, take a moment to pause. Just breathe. Let everything else fade into the background, if only for a moment. You don’t need to have everything figured out, and you don’t need to pretend to be strong when you’re not. Jesus meets you exactly where you are—not where you think you should be. He understands your struggles, your pain, your questions, and even your doubts. And still, He calls to you with open arms.

Please Watch this Inspirational Video of Jesus that Will Make You Feel Better!

(CLICK THE IMAGE ABOVE TO GET INSPIRED TODAY!)

The message of Jesus is simple, yet powerful: You are loved beyond measure. You are not alone. You have a purpose. God sees your heart, hears your prayers, and walks with you through every high and low. Even when you feel like giving up, He offers you rest, hope, and new strength.

In just one minute of quiet reflection, you can reconnect with the truth that matters most—that God is near. He is not a distant figure or an abstract idea. He is a personal, living Savior who cares deeply about your story. His words are timeless, relevant, and full of life. And the good news is, He’s still speaking. Right now, in this very moment, He’s speaking to you.

Take encouragement from His own words in Matthew 11:28:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
This is not just a verse—it’s an invitation. It’s a promise of peace for the anxious, strength for the weary, and love for the brokenhearted.

If today’s message has touched your heart, don’t keep it to yourself. There are others just like you who need a reminder of God’s love and truth. Share this message. Let someone else know they’re not alone.

Remember: No matter what you’re facing, Jesus is near. He hasn’t forgotten you. He hasn’t given up on you. Let His voice guide you, inspire you, and give you strength today.

You are seen. You are loved. And you are never alone.

I Don’t Know Who Needs This—But Here Are 10 Prayers That Helped Me

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

(PLEASE SHARE A PRAYER WITH ME IN MY COMMENTS IF POSSIBLE 🙏)

The past two weeks have been heavy, sad, and honestly, very tough for me.

A kind of emotional weight that’s hard to explain, but easy to feel.

Everything looks normal on the outside, but inside? I feel off. Sad. Tired in a way that rest doesn’t quite fix. Spiritually dry, mentally cluttered, and emotionally worn down.

Time has felt slow. People feel distant. And my thoughts? Loud.
Like I can’t turn them down, and I can’t pray them away either.


I’ve been trying so hard not to let my emotions lead my faith.

But the truth? I feel a little disconnected from God right now.
Not because He’s moved. He hasn’t. He never does.
It’s me. I’m tired—emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Just tired.

It’s not burnout from one big thing. It’s the accumulation of a hundred little things. Disappointments. Delays. Distant friendships. Sleepless nights. It feels like I’m showing up everywhere half-full, but pretending to be overflowing. And I’m not proud of it, but lately, I’ve been running on autopilot spiritually.

Still—I know this: when the world gets heavy, prayer becomes oxygen. Even when I don’t have fancy words. Even when all I can do is sit with God and cry. Even when it feels like I’m praying to a ceiling, I know my words still reach Heaven.

Over this past weekend I decided to stop overthinking and just write ten short prayers. That’s it. No filters. No performing. Just my honest heart in the presence of a faithful God.

And as I wrote them… I exhaled for the first time in days.

I don’t know if these prayers are for anyone else—but I know they helped me. They reminded me that I’m not invisible. That God sees me even when I feel unseen. And maybe… they’ll help carry me into next week with a little more hope.

1. When I Feel Overwhelmed

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” – Psalm 46:1

God, I’m juggling too much. I feel like I’m failing in all the areas that matter. Work. Friendships. Faith. I need You to be my calm in the chaos. Help me breathe, slow down, and remember You never asked me to carry this alone. Amen.

2. When Loneliness Creeps In

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” – Psalm 34:18

Jesus, today feels extra lonely. Everyone else seems busy, and I don’t want to be “too much” for anyone. But You… You see me. Sit with me. Let me feel Your nearness tonight. Amen.

3. When I’m Just Exhausted

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

Lord, I’m tired—deep in my bones kind of tired. I don’t need just sleep. I need rest. True, soul-deep rest. Please give it. Please hold me. Amen.

4. When Anxiety Takes Over

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” – 1 Peter 5:7

Father, my mind won’t stop racing. I feel like I’m spiraling. Please speak peace over me. Quiet the fear. Be my anchor. Remind me who I belong to. Amen.

5. When I Feel Far From God

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” – James 4:8

Jesus, I’ve felt distant. Distracted. Disconnected. Not because You moved—but because I did. I miss You. Please draw me back. Amen.

6. When I’m Tired of Waiting

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage.” – Psalm 27:14

God, the waiting is hard. Everyone else seems to be moving forward while I’m stuck. Help me trust that Your timing is still perfect. Strengthen my heart in the pause. Amen.

7. When Guilt Won’t Let Go

“There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” – Romans 8:1

Lord, I’ve messed up again. I feel ashamed. But I know You already saw it—and You still love me. Remind me that grace isn’t earned. It’s already mine in You. Amen.

8. When I Want to Choose Gratitude Over Bitterness

“Give thanks in all circumstances.” – 1 Thessalonians 5:18

Jesus, bitterness has crept in. Help me refocus. Open my eyes to what’s good, even now. Thank You for the breath in my lungs, the roof over my head, and the grace that covers me daily. Amen.

9. When I Need Strength to Keep Going

“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” – Isaiah 40:29

Father, I want to quit. But I know You’re not done with me. Renew my strength. Fill me again. Remind me I don’t walk alone. Amen.

10. When I Need Hope for Tomorrow

“For I know the plans I have for you…” – Jeremiah 29:11

Lord, thank You for being near this weekend. Even when it didn’t feel like much, You were here. As I walk into a new week, help me go with hope, not fear. Amen.

That’s all I had in me over the weekend. But somehow, it felt like enough.

And that’s what grace looks like sometimes—just enough to get through today. One honest moment with God. One breath of faith when everything else feels heavy.

I’m starting to believe that these low moments can still be sacred. Maybe not the kind of sacred that makes it into a worship song, but the kind that heaven notices. The kind where nothing about me feels put together, but God shows up anyway.

Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’m going to church—whether I feel it or not. Because obedience is still obedience, even when it’s quiet. Sometimes faith isn’t loud—it’s just faithful.

And maybe that’s what healing actually looks like.

Triumphant Over Temptation: Shielding Your Soul from The Devil

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Dear Lord,

This morning I woke up with a spark in my soul. It wasn’t just coffee or sunshine—no, it was something deeper. It was You. I felt Your whisper in the quiet: “Daughter, you are not fighting for victory; you are fighting from victory.” That truth struck my spirit like a bell. Loud, clear, and unshakeable.

But even with that promise, I know the battle still rages. Not a battle we can see with our eyes, but a spiritual war over our minds, our choices, our holiness. And the enemy—Satan—is subtle. He doesn’t come waving red flags. He slithers in like a suggestion, a craving, a “just this once.” He’s got tricks, but God, You’ve got truth.

Today, I want to talk about temptation—not in theory, but in reality. This isn’t just about resisting chocolate or scrolling too long. I’m talking about the kind of temptation that tries to snatch your soul little by little. The kind that chips away at your calling and numbs your convictions. And I’m writing this not to condemn, but to confront with compassion, because it’s real and it’s relentless.

What Are the Temptations of the Devil, Really?

Let’s not sugarcoat it: The devil studies us. He watches for weak spots. But he’s not original—he’s been recycling the same three temptations since Eden.

1 John 2:16 lays it out:

“For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but is of the world.”

Let’s unpack that gently but clearly:

  • Lust of the Flesh: These are desires that target our physical urges—sexual temptation, laziness, gluttony, addiction. Things that feel good but leave us empty.
  • Lust of the Eyes: This one’s crafty. It’s what we see and start to crave—bigger homes, perfect bodies, relationships we weren’t meant to have. It’s envy dressed as ambition.
  • Pride of Life: Maybe the most dangerous of all. It’s that inner voice that says, “I’ve got this. I don’t need God’s input.” That pride, beloved, is spiritual poison.

If we don’t name these for what they are, we won’t recognize when they knock.

How Do We Overcome Temptation?

Now here’s where we rise—not in our strength, but in His. The devil may be loud, but God is louder. And He didn’t leave us defenseless.

1. Know the Strategy of the Enemy

Ignorance is not holiness. We are called to be alert. 2 Corinthians 2:11 says:

“…so that Satan will not outsmart us. For we are familiar with his evil schemes.”

Satan thrives when we underestimate him. So learn his patterns. Don’t fear him—expose him. And do it by immersing yourself in the Word. Scripture isn’t a trophy. It’s a weapon.

2. Keep Your Eyes on Jesus

Peter only sank when he looked at the storm instead of the Savior (Matthew 14:30). We do the same. When we obsess over the temptation, we empower it. But when we fix our eyes on Jesus? That’s when we walk on water.

Hebrews 12:2 reminds us:

“Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…”

Look up. Not around.

3. Pray Like It’s Life or Death

Because honestly—it is. Temptation doesn’t knock politely; it barges in. Jesus said in Matthew 26:41:

“Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Prayer isn’t last resort. It’s first response. Don’t wait until you’re drowning—start praying before your feet even touch the water.

A Prayer for the Tempted Heart

Heavenly Father,
I come before You with humility, knowing that my flesh is weak but Your Spirit is mighty within me. Strengthen me when temptation whispers. Remind me that sin never satisfies and that holiness is worth the fight. I submit my desires to You, Lord—make them holy. Fill the spaces where sin used to knock with Your peace, Your power, and Your presence.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

What to Do In the Moment of Temptation

Let’s be practical here. When that moment hits—when you’re alone, vulnerable, or discouraged—do this:

  • Pray for help. Cry out. God’s not afraid of your desperation.
  • Resist and flee. James 4:7 says: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
  • Turn away—literally. Close the laptop. Exit the room. End the conversation. Temptation grows when we linger.
  • Speak Scripture out loud. Jesus did it. We should too. (Matthew 4:1–11)

Replace the Thought—Immediately

2 Corinthians 10:5 says:

“We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”

Don’t entertain sinful thoughts. Don’t replay them like a movie trailer. Replace them with God’s truth.

  • Temptation: “Nobody will know.”
    Truth: “The eyes of the Lord are everywhere.” (Proverbs 15:3)
  • Temptation: “Just one more time.”
    Truth: “Make no provision for the flesh.” (Romans 13:14)

Live Holy—On Purpose

We are not just called to avoid sin. We’re called to pursue righteousness. That means taking proactive steps:

  • Avoid triggers. Don’t go where sin is easy.
  • Armor up daily. Ephesians 6:11 reminds us: “Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”
  • Choose godly community. You weren’t meant to fight alone.
  • Stay humble. Don’t flirt with pride. It will take you down fast.

Final Thoughts: Grace and Grit

Sister, brother—temptation is real. But so is our victory. And hear me clearly: Temptation is not sin. Jesus was tempted. Giving in is the sin. And if you’ve slipped—there’s grace. God’s mercy isn’t fragile. He doesn’t cancel His children when they fall. He lifts us. He restores. He loves.

But let us not use grace as a crutch to keep sinning. Let’s use it as a weapon to rise higher. The devil wants you distracted, discouraged, and defeated. But Christ already won. So let’s live like it.

Romans 8:37 says:

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”

Not barely surviving. More than conquerors. That’s who we are.

So today, let’s fight—not with fear, but with faith. Let’s live—not with shame, but with strength. And let’s walk—not in compromise, but in conviction.

God’s Love Is Always and Forever

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

My heart is heavy, but full. I’ve been sitting with Psalm 138:8 all morning:

“The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever.”

It hit me like a wave. God’s love endures forever—even when mine wavers, even when I don’t understand, even when I feel like I’ve messed up beyond redemption. His love remains. Unshaken. Unfailing. Unconditional.

I don’t know why, but lately, I’ve been questioning it—not with my mouth, but in the deepest corners of my heart. I still sing, “Jesus loves me, this I know,” but sometimes it feels like I’m just mouthing the words. Why is it so easy to say God loves us and yet so hard to believe it when life caves in?

Let’s be real. People don’t like to talk about doubt. Especially Christian women. We’re supposed to be pillars of faith, right? Sweet, smiling, always believing. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t wrestle. I’m a warrior of faith, yes, but I’m also a human woman with battle scars. Faith doesn’t mean I don’t question—it means I bring my questions to the throne.

And this week, I asked God why. Why I still wrestle to believe He loves me when I already know so many Scriptures, when I serve in my church, when I try to do what’s right. And He answered me in that quiet whisper that cuts through all the noise:

“Daughter, you’re trying to feel My love through your circumstances, not through My covenant.”

Whew.

Screenshot

God reminded me that His love isn’t proven by my painlessness. That’s where we go wrong. We believe this lie: “If God really loves me, He won’t let me suffer.” But Jesus never said that. In fact, He promised the opposite:

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33

If Jesus—God in the flesh—wasn’t exempt from suffering, why do I think I should be? I’ve been holding God to a promise He never made. He didn’t promise ease. He promised presence. He didn’t promise comfort; He promised Christ-likeness.

And it wrecks me to realize how often I’ve measured His love by my pain level. As if tears mean abandonment. As if suffering equals distance. But in truth, the pain draws me closer to His heart. I’ve felt Him in the valley more vividly than I ever did on the mountaintop.

But here’s another lie I’ve battled:

“I don’t deserve God’s love.”

I’ve failed too many times. I’ve said things I shouldn’t. I’ve judged. I’ve envied. I’ve sinned. And in those moments, I tell myself I need to “earn” my way back into His grace. But that’s not the gospel. That’s religion. That’s performance. That’s pride wearing a mask.

The truth is this:

“We are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” — Romans 8:17

We are already loved. Not because of our “good days,” but because of grace. His love isn’t a reward; it’s a reality. A relentless one. A reckless one, even, if I can say that. It runs to me when I’m still a mess. It wraps me up when I feel dirty. It whispers, “You’re Mine,” even when I don’t recognize myself.

But maybe the hardest part is this:

“I don’t feel God’s love.”

And you know what? That’s okay. Feelings are not the thermostat of faith. They shift with sleep, hormones, the weather, a comment someone made on Instagram. My feelings don’t define truth. The Word does.

“But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him.” — Psalm 103:17

Everlasting. That’s not based on feelings. That’s based on who God is.

So if my heart feels numb or dry or disconnected, I’m learning not to panic. I’m learning to tune it. Just like a radio needs the right frequency to catch the music, my heart needs the right focus to catch His voice.

That’s what fearing the LORD and obeying His commandments does—it doesn’t earn His love; it aligns me with it. It clears the static. It sharpens my spiritual senses so I can receive what’s already being poured out.

So today, I prayed a bold, honest, slightly messy prayer. Maybe someone reading this needs to pray it too:

Dear God,


I believe Your love endures forever. But some days, I forget what that even means.
I’ve tried to measure Your love by the good things in my life—and I’m sorry.
I’ve doubted when things got hard.
I’ve run from You when I felt unworthy.
I’ve leaned on feelings instead of faith.

But today, I choose to trust Your Word over my emotions.
Tune my heart to receive Your love.
Break down the walls I’ve built in pain.
Teach me how to fear You rightly—not with terror, but with trembling reverence and wild trust.


Your love is not weak. It’s not small. It’s not moody.
It’s forever. It’s fierce. It’s mine.

And I love You for it. Always and forever.
Amen.

I don’t know who needs this, but maybe you’re like me—compassionate but tired, faithful but frustrated, loved but struggling to believe it. I want to remind you:
You are not beyond His reach. His love is not fragile. His purpose will be fulfilled in your life.

So hold tight. Keep trusting. Keep tuning your heart.
He’s not finished with you yet.

When Faith Hurts: Does God See Christians Who are Struggling?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

God, I need to get this out. I can’t carry it around anymore.

I feel like I’m breaking.

I don’t doubt that You’re real. I never have. But I’m starting to wonder something way more painful—do You see me?

Do You really see me?

I’m not asking this as someone who’s lost faith. I’m asking it as someone whose faith hurts. Like physically aches. Like waiting-for-years, tears-on-my-bedroom-floor, why-do-I-keep-hoping kind of hurt.

I’ve prayed for so long. For healing. For direction. For a spouse. For financial breakthrough. For You to step in and rescue someone I love from addiction. For clarity. For peace. For things that are GOOD. Things I know You care about.

But I keep getting silence. Closed doors. Loneliness. More waiting.

Sometimes I feel like those people in Psalm 94. “And they say, ‘The Lord does not see; the God of Jacob does not perceive.’” (Psalm 94:7) I read that verse and think, Wow. That’s exactly how I feel sometimes. Like You don’t even notice.

And that terrifies me. Because what am I supposed to do when the God I believe in more than anything else feels distant or even—dare I say it—absent?

But then I keep reading…
“He who planted the ear, does he not hear? He who formed the eye, does he not see? … For the Lord will not forsake his people; he will not abandon his heritage.” (Psalm 94:9, 14)

That hits hard.

Because deep down, I know You see. You created my eyes. You crafted my ears. You wired my heart to crave connection with You. There’s no way You’re blind to my pain.

But still. It hurts.

God, why does it take so long sometimes? Why do You ask us to wait so long when You could change things with just a whisper?

Sometimes I feel like You’re just watching from a distance while I struggle to keep my faith intact. And then I immediately feel guilty for thinking that. Because I know it’s not true. I know You’re near. I know Your Word promises You’re “close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18), and that You “collect all our tears in a bottle” (Psalm 56:8).

But there’s a gap between what I know and what I feel. And I think You can handle me saying that.

(CLICK HERE TO PRAY WITH The Christian Tech Nerd)

I think You want me to be honest, even if it’s ugly.

I don’t want to pretend anymore. I’m tired of the “bless and highly favored” church mask. I’m tired of acting like I’ve got unwavering peace when I’m crying in the shower and asking why my prayers seem to evaporate into the ceiling.

I want to trust You even when it feels like You’ve gone quiet. I want to believe—like the psalmist did—that even if deliverance isn’t here yet, it’s still coming.

Because he remembers, God. That’s what shook me when I read Psalm 94 again today. He reminded himself of all the times You had delivered him before. “If the Lord had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in the land of silence.” (Psalm 94:17)

That’s what I need. Remembrance.

You have been faithful before.
You have come through in impossible situations.
You have spoken when I least expected it.
You have saved me from things I didn’t even know were destroying me.

So maybe it’s not that You’re ignoring me now—maybe it’s just that You’re working behind the scenes in ways I don’t see yet. Maybe this “no” or “not yet” is actually a gift. Maybe You’re building something in me that comfort could never produce—like endurance, character, and a fierce kind of hope (Romans 5:3-5).

Still, it’s hard, Lord.

I’m not asking You to make life perfect. I’m not even asking You to take all the pain away (though if You did, I’d be grateful!). I’m just asking You to remind me that You’re near. That You haven’t forgotten. That I’m not crazy for continuing to believe You’ll show up.

Because every time I consider walking away from this faith—You pull me back.
Every time I want to give up praying—You whisper something small that gives me strength.
Every time I think You’ve abandoned me—You send someone to say exactly what I needed to hear.

So maybe that’s what trust looks like in this season. Not pretending I’m okay, but clinging to the truth that You are, even when I’m not.

Lord, I don’t want a fragile, feel-good faith that only works when life is pretty.
I want a real faith.


A rugged, blood-and-tears kind of faith.
A faith that doesn’t break in the silence.
A faith that remembers.

So I’m choosing—again—to believe that You see me.
Even when the job doesn’t come through.
Even when the loneliness lingers.
Even when the healing delays.
Even when my heart keeps breaking.

You see. You hear. You care. You save.

God, I don’t understand this waiting. But I trust You in it.


Help me believe You’re near even when it feels like You’re far.


Help me want You more than I want answers.


And give me peace that surpasses understanding—not peace that comes from things going my way, but peace that comes from knowing You are with me no matter what.
Give me joy in the waiting. Show me glimpses of Your goodness.


And when I get tired of hoping, remind me that hope in You is never wasted.


Amen.

Christian Thought for Today


What if the thing I’m waiting for isn’t being withheld… but being prepared? What if the delay is protection? What if the closed doors are really just reroutes to something so much better than what I even knew to pray for?

God, open my eyes to see what You see.

(Click the YouTube Button Above to Pray with The Christian Tech Nerd)

Lifting Up Loved Ones: Praying for Those You Love

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Last night, I found myself staring at the ceiling again, heart heavy and mind racing. Not because I’m burdened by my own stuff—but because I can feel the weight of the people I love. Their pain. Their questions. Their wandering. Their silence.

And honestly? It wrecks me.
I don’t want to be the girl who watches people I love slip through life without Jesus. I want to be the one who fights on her knees.

But I had to start with a hard question:
When’s the last time I actually prayed for them? Like really prayed?

Not a “Lord, bless them” kind of prayer, but the kind that pulls heaven down to earth.

God doesn’t need my passive prayers. He wants my passion. My persistence. My boldness. So here I am—learning to pray like I mean it.

1. Pray for God to soften my heart first.

This might be the most uncomfortable step—but it’s the realest one. Before I intercede for others, I have to let God break me. I don’t want to pray from a place of pride, frustration, or spiritual superiority. I want to pray from love. Period.

Lord, give me a burden. That’s an old-school word, I know. But I want it. I want my heart to hurt for what hurts Yours. Break the apathy. Remove the judgment. Let me weep for them. Let me care deeply again.

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you.” — Ezekiel 36:26

God, make my heart flesh again. Not cold, not passive, not comfortable. Tender. Ready to move at the whisper of Your Spirit.

2. Pray just to talk about Jesus.

This isn’t about crafting the perfect speech or waiting for the ideal moment. This is about boldness. Godly, humble boldness. I don’t want my conversations to stay surface-level forever. I want opportunities to bring up eternity.

“Pray for us… that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ.” — Colossians 4:3

God, open a door. Not just in their schedule, but in their heart. Give me a moment that can’t be explained by anything but divine timing. Give me courage to walk through it when it comes. Let me be ready, not scared.

No more waiting until “the right time.” The right time is now.

3. Pray that the words of Jesus take off like wildfire.

Sometimes I think we forget just how powerful His words are. When Jesus speaks, things shift. Darkness trembles. Chains break. Hope rises. His words don’t need our help—they just need our obedience to speak them.

“Pray that the Master’s Word will simply take off and race through the country to a groundswell of response…” — 2 Thessalonians 3:1 (MSG)

Lord, let Your Word run wild in their lives. Let it chase them down in the quiet moments. Speak to them in dreams. In songs. In conversations they didn’t expect. Let the name of Jesus echo until it becomes undeniable.

4. Pray for God to heal their hearts.

Hurt people hide behind sarcasm, silence, success, or straight-up rebellion. But when someone’s going through a storm, it’s often because God is softening something deep inside.

So instead of judging their mess, I’m learning to pray into their healing.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

God, bind up their wounds. Speak peace over the chaos. Show them that You’re not afraid of their broken pieces. You’re the God who walks into storms and speaks stillness. Walk into theirs, Lord. Let them feel You.

5. Pray for endurance on my end.

Let’s be honest: it’s exhausting praying for people who seem like they don’t care. It’s frustrating watching them self-destruct while you’re begging heaven for a breakthrough. But I’ve learned this: God doesn’t call me to fix them—He calls me to pray for them.

So I will.

Even when I don’t see it.
Even when they push me away.
Even when it feels pointless.

Because faith doesn’t wait for feelings. It stands. It believes. It persists.

“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” — James 5:16

So I will pray powerful, effective prayers. Not because I’m perfect. But because I’m His. And I believe He moves when His kids pray like they believe He will.

Lord Jesus,
Thank You for placing these people in my life. I don’t believe in coincidence—I believe in calling. You’ve called me to love them, serve them, and fight for them in prayer. So today, I lift them up to You.

Soften my heart, Lord. Remove pride. Give me a burden that drives me to my knees daily.
Open the doors for conversations about You—real ones, honest ones. Give me boldness to speak and wisdom to listen.

Let Your Word catch fire in their lives. Let it chase them down and wake something up inside them.
Heal their wounds. Calm their storms. Make them whole, even if they don’t know how to ask for it yet.
And when I get tired, remind me that You never give up on me. So I won’t give up on them.

I trust You, Jesus. And I believe You’re already moving.
Amen.

Prayer isn’t a last resort—it’s the first line of battle.
And I refuse to let the people I love walk through life without someone warring for them in prayer.

Even if they never know it, I’ll be the one interceding.
Because that’s what love does.