Tag: Lord

When God Calls, Say “Yes”

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Romans 12:1-2 has been ringing in my spirit all day:

“So, brothers and sisters, because of God’s mercies, I encourage you to present your bodies as a living sacrifice that is holy and pleasing to God. This is your appropriate priestly service. Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is — what is good and pleasing and mature.”

Paul didn’t say to find a ministry. He didn’t say to pick a purpose like it’s a major in college. He said to present myself. That my whole body—my life, my breath, my desires, my dreams, my mistakes, my identity—is the offering. That is what pleases God. That is the path to understanding His will.

I’ve been so focused on the fruit, the output, the outcome. “What does God want me to do with my life?” “What’s my calling?” “What’s the plan?” I’ve stressed myself out trying to figure out where I fit in the grand kingdom scheme of things. But now I see… I’ve been skipping step one.

Step one is Him. Step one is relationship. Not just Sunday morning kind of relationship, not even quiet time coffee and journal relationship—although those are good. Step one is a living, breathing, moment-by-moment walk with the God who formed me and calls me daughter. A relationship built on trust, full surrender, and wild, unreasonable faith.

Honestly? I’ve been afraid to say yes. Really say yes.

Because saying “yes” to God means saying “no” to some other things. It means letting go of control—and if I’m real, I’ve clung tightly to control like it was the last raft in a stormy sea. Control gave me a false sense of safety. But it also made me tired, bitter, confused.

God doesn’t want to control me. He wants to lead me. There’s a difference.

And if I keep my eyes on Him—just Him—not the blessings, not the callings, not the platforms or titles—just Him—then I’ll never be lost.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”

Today, I stopped leaning on my understanding. And I started trusting that the God who knit me together in the secret place knows how to lead me in public too.

Prayer:

Father, I surrender. I give You not just my Sunday self, not just the “good girl” version of me. I give You the whole thing. My fears, my doubts, my control issues, my desire to perform. I lay it all at Your feet. I present myself to You as a living sacrifice—holy and pleasing—not because I’ve earned it but because Jesus made a way. Teach me how to walk with You in the small moments. I don’t want a surface-level relationship. I want the kind of intimacy that marks me. I want to know Your voice like I know my own breath. Direct me, God—not with pressure, but with peace. I say yes. Yes to You. Yes to love. Yes to surrender. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I’ve realized that vocational clarity, ministry clarity, even relationship clarity—it all flows out of intimacy with God. Not the other way around.

We don’t get close to God after we find our calling. We find our calling as we walk closely with God.

And that’s been the missing link for me.

I’ve been asking for direction like a GPS voice from heaven: “Turn left in 400 feet.” But God wants to walk with me—not just instruct me. He’s not a distant coach. He’s Emmanuel. God with us. God with me.

When I get close to Him, everything else becomes clearer—not always immediately, but deeply. He reveals who I am in Him. And from that place, ministry isn’t forced. It flows. My gifts, my passions, my story—they all become tools in His hands. But I have to be in His hands first. Surrendered. Moldable. Willing.

You know, being compassionate doesn’t mean being passive.

Sometimes loving God means confronting everything in you that wants to be safe, comfortable, in control. Sometimes love is fierce. Sometimes surrender is a fight—a choice to silence the voice of fear and say, “Not today. I trust God.”

And honestly? I’m tired of being lukewarm. I’m tired of half-yeses and conditional surrender.

I don’t want to be the girl who only obeys when it makes sense or when it’s popular. I want to be the woman who says yes even when the cost is high, even when the world calls it crazy, even when I’m scared.

Because Jesus didn’t hesitate when He said yes to the cross for me.

Luke 9:23 hits different tonight:

“Then He said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me.’”

Daily. Not just once at a youth conference. Not just when I feel spiritual. But every. Single. Day.

Saying yes isn’t a one-time thing. It’s a lifestyle. A rhythm. A posture of the heart.

So tomorrow, when I wake up, I’ll say yes again. And the next day. And the next. Until it becomes my default. Until “yes, Lord” is the first thing off my lips and the deepest cry of my soul.

Lord, keep me in a posture of yes. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it costs me friends, followers, or opportunities. Even when it means leaving behind the familiar. Keep me rooted in You. Make intimacy with You my greatest priority—not productivity, not performance, not platform. Strip away everything false in me and replace it with truth. Let Your Word renew my mind. Let Your Spirit fill my steps. May my life be an offering. A living sacrifice. A yes that echoes through eternity. In Jesus’ name, amen.

I may not know where I’m going in five years. I may not have a five-step plan. But I have a yes. And that’s enough.

Because when I said yes, I said yes to the God who does know the plan.

Jeremiah 29:11 says:

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.’”

That’s not just a verse to put on a graduation card. That’s a promise.

And my “yes” activates that promise in my life.

Not because God needs my permission—but because He invites my participation.

So here I am. 25 years old. Still figuring it out. Still learning. But sure of one thing: I’m not living for this world. I’m living for His Kingdom. I’m not chasing fame. I’m chasing His face.

And every time I say yes, I get a little closer.

Amen.

Are You a True Disciple of Jesus, or Just Familiar with our Savior?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I can’t shake the question. It’s been pressing on my heart all week, echoing like a whisper I can’t ignore:

“Will Jesus say He knew me when I stand before Him in heaven?”

It hits different when I ask it out loud.
It’s not just about whether I know about You — it’s whether I truly know You. Intimately. Genuinely. Deeply.

Because here’s the thing — I’ve spent years in church pews, sang the worship songs, prayed the public prayers, quoted the Scriptures. But that doesn’t guarantee that You’ll say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” (Matthew 25:23)

Honestly, the thought of standing before You and hearing, “Depart from Me, I never knew you” (Matthew 7:23) — it wrecks me. Not out of fear, but out of reverence. I don’t want a shallow version of this faith. I don’t want a Jesus I visit on Sundays and forget by Monday. I want to live like You are real — because You ARE.

And You’re not just real — You’re everything.

God, You said in Jeremiah 29:13,

“You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all your heart.”

So here I am again tonight, seeking You with my whole heart. Not for blessings. Not for comfort. Not even for answers. Just for You.

Jesus,
There are moments when I look around and realize how many people claim to know You… but how few actually live like they do. And if I’m being brutally honest — I’ve had seasons where I was one of them.

I said the right words. I knew the theology. But my heart was numb. My prayers were mechanical. And my Bible collected more dust than revelation.

But You didn’t give up on me.
You pursued me. You waited for me. You loved me back to life.

How can I ever thank You for that?

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

Thank You, Jesus, for wanting to know me. That truth alone melts my soul. You, the Creator of the universe, chose me. Not because I’m worthy, but because You’re good. You didn’t grow tired of my inconsistency. You didn’t give up on me when I wandered. You held my hand in the valley and whispered, “I’m still here.”

I think sometimes we forget that knowing You isn’t just about information — it’s about relationship. And relationships take time. Intentionality. Conversation. Trust.

You’ve shown me that real intimacy with You is built in the secret place — not the spotlight. In whispered prayers. In wrestling with doubt. In the moments no one else sees.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

You’ve taught me to be still. And in that stillness, I’ve come to know You not just as Savior… but as Friend. As Shepherd. As King… and yet closer than my breath.

Lord, I’ve been thinking about how we treat this relationship sometimes like a checklist.
Did I read my Bible? ✅
Did I pray before my meal? ✅
Did I go to church? ✅

But You’re not looking for a checklist. You’re looking for communion.

You want us to abide.

“Abide in Me, and I in you…” – John 15:4

What an honor that is. That we — broken, distracted, imperfect — get to dwell in the presence of the Almighty God, every single day. What grace. What undeserved grace.

Here’s the confronting part — and I won’t sugarcoat it:
I think we need to stop pretending that proximity to Christian culture is the same as proximity to Christ.

Just because I grew up in church doesn’t mean I know You.
Just because I listen to worship music doesn’t mean I worship You.
Just because I post Scriptures online doesn’t mean I live them.

I’m tired of half-hearted Christianity.
I don’t want to flirt with faith. I want to marry myself to it.

Jesus,
I want You to recognize me when I walk into eternity.
I want You to look me in the eyes and say, “You walked with Me. You trusted Me. You knew Me — and I knew you.”

So here’s my prayer — raw and unfiltered:

Lord,


Strip me of every performance-driven mindset.
Tear down the walls I’ve built around my heart.
Expose every false version of You I’ve believed.
Silence the noise of religion and bring me back to the wonder of relationship.

Help me to know You as You truly are — not who I’ve imagined or heard about secondhand.
I want Your truth, not my version of it.
More than blessings, more than breakthrough — I want You.

Jesus, teach me to seek Your face, not just Your hand.
Let me fall in love with Your Word all over again.
Make my heart burn like the disciples on the road to Emmaus when You opened the Scriptures to them. (Luke 24:32)

And when I’m tempted to perform, to impress, or to hide — remind me that You never asked for perfection. You asked for proximity. You asked for love.

I feel the weight of eternity pressing into this moment.

How I live here matters. Not for salvation — that’s grace alone — but for relationship.
This life is training ground for forever.
I want to show up in heaven already familiar with Your voice.
I want to walk in and feel like I’m home, not like I’m meeting a stranger.

The truth is, Jesus, without You I’d be so lost. I’ve seen what my life looks like when I drift — and it’s ugly. It’s aimless. It’s hollow.

You are my anchor when the world sways.
You are the only constant in this chaotic life.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.” – John 15:5

Apart from You, I can do nothing.

And maybe that’s the whole point.
Knowing You isn’t about striving… it’s about surrender.
It’s not about doing more… it’s about abiding deeper.
It’s not about being “good enough”… it’s about being in love enough to never let go.

Final Prayer of Gratitude

Thank You, Jesus, for desiring to know me more.
Thank You for never growing tired of our relationship, even when I bring my brokenness to the table.
Thank You for revealing Yourself to me through Your Word — for speaking into my soul, for comforting me when I’m weary, for correcting me when I stray.

Thank You for choosing me.
I’m not just a name in the crowd to You — I’m Your child.
And I want to spend the rest of my life, and all eternity, getting to know You more.

So tonight, I ask again — not just as a question, but as a commitment:

How well do I know Jesus?

Not well enough.
But I will.

Every day, every prayer, every choice —
I will keep chasing Your heart.

Until the day I stand before You face to face,
and You smile and say,

“I know you.”

Amen.

Trusting God When He Seems Quiet

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Yesterday was one of those Mondays where I felt everything all at once. Too much and not enough. Angry, tired, hopeful, lonely, spiritually dry—but oddly still full of a flicker of faith that refuses to go out. I’m starting to believe that emotions can actually wear down the body. They’re loud. They’re inconsistent. They’re draining. And they don’t always care about what’s true.

Honestly, I feel like God’s been silent lately. Not gone. Just quiet.

And I hate writing that out, because I know it’s not true. I know God hasn’t left. I know He hears me. I know He’s with me—everywhere, all the time. Psalm 139:7-10 comes to mind:

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

I know this. I’ve studied it. I’ve clung to it. I’ve prayed it over other people.

But yesterday? Yesterday I didn’t feel it. Not even a little.

And I hate that, because it feels like I’m betraying God with my doubts. But at the same time, I know He’s big enough to handle them. So here I am—writing to keep from exploding, praying between the lines, hoping that maybe in the silence, He’s actually speaking in a way I just haven’t learned to listen for yet.

I guess what’s really messing me up is how easily my emotions try to rewrite the truth. One second I’m laughing with a friend and feeling like maybe I’ve turned a corner, then a thought hits me—something small, like a memory or a disappointment—and I spiral. Like a trapdoor opens under my feet and I’m falling through sadness, doubt, and disconnection.

Why does God feel so far?

Why does my prayer feel like it hits the ceiling and drops back down?

Why am I pouring out my heart and getting nothing but holy silence in return?

But then again… maybe God isn’t silent. Maybe He’s just still. And maybe still isn’t a bad thing.

I think of Elijah in 1 Kings 19:11-12—

“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”

That whisper… that’s where God was. A whisper isn’t loud. A whisper doesn’t interrupt. A whisper waits until you’re leaning in close enough to hear it.

Maybe that’s the point. Maybe God’s whispering and my emotions are just too loud to hear Him.

Still, I’ve been tempted to demand, “God, where are You?!”


But instead, this has been my prayer:
“Lord, I know You’re here, but I feel like I can’t find You. Why am I struggling to connect with You? Help me not to confuse silence with absence. Help me remember that Your truth is bigger than how I feel.”

And I really do believe that. I believe that truth and feelings are not the same thing. I believe that feelings can be deceiving, while truth is steady—even when I can’t see it. Even when it doesn’t comfort me the way I want it to.

Emotions are powerful. I’m not going to pretend they’re not. But they are not ultimate. And I’ve made a decision—not just yesterday, but every day—to keep my eyes on what I know instead of what I feel. That’s not easy. It’s war, honestly.

Sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of a battlefield with two versions of myself. One that wants to scream at God and the other that wants to cry in His lap. One that says “This isn’t fair” and the other that says “Just hold on.” One that’s angry, and one that’s desperate.

I’ve come to realize both can exist. God’s big enough to hold both.

Psalm 34:18 says:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

It doesn’t say He shames them. It doesn’t say He avoids them. It says He’s close to them.

And I need that closeness more than I need answers.

I guess part of me assumed that if I’m faithful, I should feel close to God all the time. But that’s not biblical. That’s emotionalism. Even David—man after God’s own heart—cried out in Psalm 13:1-2:

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”

That doesn’t sound like someone disconnected from God. That sounds like someone deeply connected—so much so, that when the emotional connection feels gone, the pain of it is unbearable.

I get that. I feel that.

But David didn’t stop there. A few verses later in Psalm 13:5-6, he says:

“But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
for he has been good to me.”

That’s the balance I’m fighting for.

Yes, I feel disappointed. Yes, I feel unheard sometimes. Yes, I feel like I’m knocking on Heaven’s door and no one’s answering.


But I will still trust in His unfailing love. I will still rejoice in His salvation. I will still praise Him—not because I feel like it, but because He is worthy.

There’s a discipline to faith that people don’t talk about enough. Sometimes faith isn’t this magical, peaceful thing. Sometimes it’s gritty. It’s showing up to pray even when you feel ignored. It’s reading the Word when you feel numb. It’s worshiping with tears running down your face, choking on lyrics you’re not sure you even believe in the moment.

That’s real faith. That’s tested faith.

So here’s my prayer tonight, and I’ll be real:

Father,

I don’t understand why You feel quiet. I know You’re not gone. I know You love me. But right now, I feel dry, tired, and like I’m wandering around in a fog. I need You. Not just Your blessings, not just Your answers—I need YOU.


Help me to hear Your whisper.
Help me to lean in, instead of walking away.
Help me to live by truth, not by mood swings.


Help me not to fall for the lies the enemy plants when You seem still.
Lord, make me faithful in the silence. Make me attentive in the quiet.


Give me eyes to see You, even if it’s just in a sunrise, or a kind word, or the peace in my own chest.


You’re worth trusting. Even now. Especially now.


In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Footprints of Faith: Following Jesus Every Day

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Lord,

Today I feel like I’m standing still in the middle of a world sprinting in every direction. The noise, the expectations, the pull of my own thoughts—it’s exhausting. But You whispered something to my heart today. Something that anchored me:

“This journey of life was never meant to be traveled alone.”

You didn’t just save me to send me off. You saved me to walk with me.

Sometimes I forget that, Jesus. I know it in my head, but I don’t always live like I know it in my heart. Life gets loud, people get messy, and the days run together like spilled paint. But Your Word reminds me:

“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way.” – Psalm 37:23

You delight in my way. You don’t just tolerate my existence or sigh every time I mess up. You actually delight in walking beside me. That floors me.

Why do I so easily forget that You’re right here?

I was reading this morning in Isaiah, and this verse stood out like a flare:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.” – Isaiah 43:2

You never promised I’d avoid the waters—you just promised I wouldn’t drown. And honestly, lately, it’s felt like I’ve been wading through an ocean of unknowns. But You’re still here, walking beside me, even when I can’t see through the waves.

Jesus, the more I walk with You, the more I realize how much I need to walk in awe of You. Not just in obedience. Not just in routine. But in absolute reverence. The kind of reverence that makes me put my phone down, step away from distractions, and just be with You.

I know the world doesn’t celebrate walking slowly, intentionally, or sacredly. But I do. Or at least I want to.

This walk with You—it’s not always easy. You confront me. You lovingly correct me. You expose the parts of my heart I want to hide. But You do it with such gentleness, like a surgeon with healing hands.

You never humiliate me. You heal me.

And I’m starting to see how walking with You is the only path that actually changes me. Not religion. Not rules. Not even good works. Just You. Just Jesus.

“He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” – Micah 6:8

I’m learning that “walking humbly” doesn’t mean shrinking back. It means staying close to You, knowing full well You’re the one holding my hand.

Jesus, can I be honest?

Sometimes I still want control. I still want to call the shots, make the decisions, and map out my future like I’m the creator of time itself. But I’m not. You are. And You’ve never once led me wrong.

It’s hard to surrender. It’s hard to let go. But I’m slowly realizing that walking with You means letting You lead—even when it doesn’t make sense.

You taught me this during my last job when everything crumbled. I was sure that position was my “calling.” But now, looking back, I see it was just a classroom. You were teaching me how to trust You when my identity isn’t propped up by titles.

Thank You for stripping that from me.

Yeah, I said it. I’m thankful for the stripping. Because it forced me to walk more closely with You.

This journey with You is less about where I go and more about who I become. And every step with You is shaping my character—refining me, stretching me, and anchoring me in something real.

So today, I’m asking You for more.

Not more stuff. Not more followers. Not more clarity.

But more of You.

Give me a deeper hunger for Your Word. Let it be the first place I run, not the last.

Give me a holy craving for Your presence—stronger than my desire for approval, comfort, or success.

And give me the boldness to confront the lies in myself and in others. Not to be self-righteous, but to be righteous. There’s a difference.

People need truth, Jesus. Real truth. Not watered-down, “cute” Christianity that doesn’t offend anyone. You didn’t die a brutal death just to make us comfortable.

You died to make us new.

So if I’m really walking with You, my life better start reflecting that.

God, help me not to just talk about You, but to actually walk with You.

Help me be the kind of woman who prays more than she posts.

The kind of woman who forgives quickly and loves fiercely.

The kind of woman who isn’t afraid to confront sin—in love—and call people into truth, not out of shame, but out of deep compassion.

And if anyone reading this (even if it’s just me re-reading it later) doesn’t know You yet, then let me just say this:

You can start walking with Jesus today.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t need to clean yourself up first. You don’t need to have some spiritual resume or emotional perfection.

Just pray. Be real. Be honest. Jesus is listening.

Here’s the prayer that changed everything for me:

“Jesus, I believe You are who You say You are. I believe You are the Son of God, that You died for my sins and rose again. I surrender my life to You. I don’t want to walk alone anymore. I give You my past, my present, and my future. Come into my life and lead me every step of the way. Amen.”

That’s it. That’s the first step. And once you take it, He will walk with you.

He won’t promise the path will always be easy, but He will promise that you’ll never walk it alone.

So here I am, Jesus. Again. Choosing to walk with You—step by step, even when I can’t see the full path.

Thank You for never leaving my side. Thank You for being patient when I wander, and strong when I’m weak.

And thank You for growing me. Even when it hurts.

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

Today, I draw near.
Today, I walk with You.
Today, I choose the narrow road—because You’re on it.

And I’ll keep walking with You until I finally see You face to face.

10 Powerful Short Prayers to Carry You Through a Difficult Weekend

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This weekend has been heavy, and it’s only Saturday.

Not in the dramatic, everything-is-falling-apart kind of way—but more in that quiet, aching, invisible weight sort of way. It’s the kind of weekend where time moves slowly, people seem distant, and my thoughts are louder than usual. I’ve been stuck in my head all day, trying to shake this feeling of overwhelm, loneliness, and honestly…spiritual dryness.

I’m trying not to let my emotions dictate my faith, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little disconnected from God right now. Not because He’s distant—He never is—but because I’ve just been tired. Tired in my body, tired in my mind, and tired in my soul.

But something I’ve learned this past year is this: when the world gets heavy, prayer becomes my oxygen. Even if the words are broken. Even if the prayers are whispered between tears or said without saying anything at all.

Last night, I wrote out 10 prayers to help me get through this weekend—and maybe even carry into next week. Writing them helped me breathe again. They reminded me that I’m never alone, no matter how quiet it feels around me. That God sees me even when I feel invisible.

So, here they are—my honest prayers. No filters. Just my heart and His presence.

1. When I feel overwhelmed

God, I can’t keep juggling everything. I feel like I’m dropping the ball in all areas of my life. Work. Friendships. Family. Even spiritually. I need You to be my calm in this chaos. Help me slow down. Help me remember that You’re not asking me to carry all of this alone. You’re my rest and my rescue. Please remind me to let go. Amen.

2. When loneliness creeps in

Jesus, this loneliness is louder than usual today. It’s like no one sees me. Everyone is busy, and I don’t want to be a burden. But You, Lord—you’re near to the brokenhearted. Sit with me tonight. Whisper Your love over me. Help me believe I’m not forgotten. Just knowing You’re here makes all the difference. Amen.

3. When I’m just exhausted

Lord, I am so, so tired. Not just sleepy—but worn thin. I’ve been running on empty for weeks, and I can feel the burnout creeping in. You said in Your Word that You’d give rest to the weary. Please give me that rest. Teach me that it’s okay to stop striving. Let me rest with You, not just from the world. Amen.

4. When anxiety tries to steal my peace

Father, I can’t shut off my thoughts. My mind keeps racing, playing out worst-case scenarios, obsessing over things I can’t control. I hate how anxiety makes me feel like I’m spiraling. Please step in. Be my anchor. Quiet the noise in my head and replace it with Your peace. You’re the Prince of Peace, and I need You right now. Amen.

5. When I feel far from God

Jesus, it feels like it’s been a while since we were close. Not because You’ve moved, but because I’ve been distracted, distant, maybe even a little ashamed. But I miss You. I miss our time together. Please draw me back in. Speak to me again. I’m ready to return. Amen.

6. When I’m tired of waiting

God, why does it feel like everything I pray for is stuck in limbo? I’m doing my best to trust You, but I’m also getting discouraged. Everyone else seems to be moving forward, and I feel stuck. Help me trust Your timing. Help me believe that delays are not denials. Strengthen my faith in the waiting. Amen.

7. When guilt weighs me down

Lord, I’ve made some choices this week that I’m not proud of. And I’ve been avoiding You because of the shame. But I know You’re not surprised. You’ve already seen it all—and You still love me. Please forgive me. Wash me clean. Remind me that I don’t have to earn Your grace—it’s already mine. Amen.

8. When I want to choose gratitude instead of bitterness

Jesus, I don’t feel super thankful right now. I’ve been focusing on everything I don’t have, and it’s made me bitter. But I don’t want to live like that. I want to be someone who sees the good, even when life is hard. So thank You—for this moment, for this breath, for Your patience with me. Help me fix my eyes on You. Amen.

9. When I need strength to keep going

Father, part of me wants to just quit—on everything. It’s hard to keep showing up when I’m tired and unseen. But I know You give strength to the weary. So please strengthen me now. Lift my head. Renew my energy. Remind me that You’re not done with my story. Amen.

10. When I need hope for tomorrow

Lord, thank You for being with me through this weekend. Even when I didn’t “feel” You, I know You were there. Help me go into this new week with hope—not fear. Let me walk in the light of Your promises. I believe the best is yet to come, not because life is perfect, but because You are. Amen.

That’s all I could get out last night.

But honestly, just writing these down helped lift a little of the weight. It reminded me that I don’t need to have it all together for God to meet me. He meets me right here—in my messy room, in my tired soul, in my doubts and in my silence.

I know this weekend didn’t turn out how I imagined. But maybe it was still sacred in its own way. Maybe sometimes the holiest moments are the ones where we have nothing to offer but our honest heart—and He shows up anyway.

Tomorrow is Sunday. I think I’ll go to church, even if I don’t “feel” like it. Sometimes obedience comes before the emotion. And maybe that’s where healing begins.

I’m going to leave my Bible open on the nightstand and let God speak while I sleep.

One day at a time. One prayer at a time.

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.

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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.

Beyond the Offense: Walking in Grace Every Day

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve been thinking a lot about grace — not just the kind God gives me (which is endless and overwhelming), but the kind I struggle to give others.

It hit me today while I was standing in line at the grocery store. The cashier was moving slowly, visibly flustered, and my first reaction was frustration. My thoughts weren’t kind. I didn’t say anything harsh out loud, but inside… I was not gracious. And I’ve been carrying that moment around with me all day. Not because it was huge, but because it revealed something in me.

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I want to be someone who extends grace. But if I’m honest, I’m quick to criticize and slow to encourage. I spot flaws faster than I celebrate growth in others.

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” – Ephesians 4:32 (NIV)

This verse has been tugging at my heart all week. God has shown me so much mercy — and I didn’t earn a bit of it. So why is it so hard for me to pass it on? Why do I expect people to be perfect, when I know I’m not?

Prayer 1:


Jesus, help me reflect You. Not just in what I say I believe, but in how I treat people. Make me someone who notices the good, who gives the benefit of the doubt, who’s patient with others the way You’re endlessly patient with me.

I’ve especially noticed how easy it is to be hard on the people closest to me. I snap at my siblings when they annoy me. I judge my friends for choices I don’t agree with. I get irritated when my parents repeat themselves or when my coworker is late — again. And yet, God doesn’t deal with me like that.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.” – Psalm 103:8 (NIV)

I read that and think: How can I possibly mirror that kind of love? But then I remember — it’s not something I can manufacture on my own. It’s the Holy Spirit in me. Without Him, I’m just stuck in my old ways.

Prayer 2:
Holy Spirit, please shape me. Soften the parts of me that are harsh, impatient, and critical. Create in me a heart that is gentle and gracious. I want to grow, even if it means being uncomfortable.

I know I’m not alone in this. Our whole culture encourages us to “speak our truth,” to be brutally honest, to point out what’s wrong in everyone else. But I’m starting to see that sometimes the bravest thing is to hold back criticism, and instead speak words that build others up.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up, according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” – Ephesians 4:29 (NIV)

I feel convicted reading that. How often do my words actually build others up? Not as often as they should. I gossip sometimes, even if I call it venting. I speak in sarcasm and call it humor. I critique my church instead of praying for it. I highlight what’s lacking instead of celebrating what God is doing.

Prayer 3:
Father, forgive me for using my words carelessly. Help me be someone who speaks life, who encourages more than critiques. Let my mouth be an instrument of grace — not just with friends, but even with strangers.

What’s crazy is that I know grace works. I’ve experienced it. There have been times when I’ve failed, and instead of condemnation, I received love and understanding. Those moments changed me more than any lecture ever could.

So why don’t I lead with grace more often? Maybe it’s pride. Maybe I think people should know better. But then I think of Jesus — how He washed feet, how He forgave from the cross, how He invited sinners to eat with Him.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:8 (NIV)

He didn’t wait for us to clean up. He loved us right where we were. That humbles me. Because I don’t deserve that kind of love — and yet, I’ve received it every single day.

Prayer 4:
Jesus, make me more like You. Help me stop measuring others by standards I can’t even meet myself. Fill me with compassion. Let Your grace flow through me — not just to me.

I think one of the hardest things is learning to forgive people who don’t apologize, or who don’t even realize they hurt me. But I’ve learned that holding onto offense doesn’t protect me — it poisons me. Grace, on the other hand, frees me.

“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” – Colossians 3:13 (NIV)

That’s the standard. Forgive as the Lord forgave me. And how did He forgive me? Fully. Freely. Forever.

Prayer 5:
Lord, give me the strength to forgive when it’s hard. When people don’t say sorry. When they don’t change. When I’m tempted to hold a grudge. I want to live light and free — not weighed down by bitterness.

Tonight, as I sit with all of this, I feel a holy discomfort. God is stretching me. But it’s not out of guilt — it’s out of love. He’s inviting me into a new way of living. A way marked by grace. Not just receiving it, but extending it.

So tomorrow, I want to try again. I want to be slower to speak and quicker to understand. I want to catch myself before I criticize. I want to look for the good. And when I mess up — because I will — I’ll lean into His grace once again.

He’s not asking me to be perfect. He’s asking me to be surrendered.

Only Liars Can’t Admit Abortion is Murder

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

So here’s the TRUTH: if you cannot admit that abortion is murder, then you are either deceived, or you are willfully rebelling against God — plain and simple. And yes, I said murder. I don’t care what kind of soft, shiny, “healthcare” label the world wants to slap on it — abortion is the taking of an innocent life. A baby. A heartbeat. A soul knit by God.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.” – Jeremiah 1:5

People treat that verse like a sweet lullaby. But it’s not just poetic. It’s literal. God forms life in the womb. So if someone reaches into that sacred place and ends that life, how is that not murder?

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I’m sick of pretending this is a “gray area.” It’s not. It’s black and white. It’s life or death.

Prayer #1:
God, I need Your help because I’m so angry. I feel this fire in my bones and I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t want to be bitter, but I want to be bold. Teach me how to speak truth with love — not softness, but holiness. Please, help me use my anger righteously, not destructively. Amen.

I saw someone post today — “You’re not really pro-life if you don’t support welfare, open borders, and universal healthcare.” Are you KIDDING me? That is such a cheap trick. Like, sorry I don’t want babies murdered in the womb before we even talk about policy. Saving lives isn’t a political opinion, it’s a moral obligation.

I’m not going to sit here and debate economics with someone who’s okay with a child being torn apart in a womb. Priorities, people.

“Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter.” – Proverbs 24:11

You know what really gets to me? The way Christians — people who claim to love Jesus — twist Scripture to justify this. They say, “Jesus didn’t talk about abortion.” No, but He did talk about loving the least of these. About protecting children. About not shedding innocent blood. He didn’t have to say the word “abortion” — the heart of God is obvious.

Prayer #2:
Jesus, I’m heartbroken at the compromise in the Church. Raise up a generation that fears You more than they fear backlash. Wake up the pastors who are too scared to lose their platform. Let them cry out for the unborn. Give us courage. Give us conviction. Give us clarity. Amen.

I keep asking myself — why are people so okay with this? How can they look at an ultrasound, see a heartbeat, see fingers and toes, and still say, “It’s a choice”? That’s not just blindness — that’s rebellion.

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

We’re living in those days right now. Where speaking up for the voiceless is “extreme,” but advocating for dismemberment is “compassion.” I feel like I’m screaming into the void. And yeah, maybe I sound harsh. But Jesus flipped tables, didn’t He? There’s a time for tenderness and a time for truth that cuts.

Prayer #3:
Father, give me a heart that breaks for what breaks Yours. Don’t let me grow numb. Don’t let me get cynical. Let me stay tender enough to care, but tough enough to stand. Let me weep for the babies and fight for them too. Keep me close to Your Spirit, always. Amen.

There are days I honestly wonder if I’m crazy. Because I watch people celebrate abortion like it’s a victory — popping champagne and clapping like they’ve done something noble. It makes me sick. I wish I could shake them and say, “Don’t you see what you’re cheering for? Death isn’t liberation. It’s loss.”

And yet, God reminds me — even the ones who support abortion were made in His image. That’s the hard part. Loving the people who support evil without compromising the truth.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12:21

Sometimes I want to explode. But other times, I just want to cry. For the millions of children who never got to take their first breath. For the mothers who were lied to. For the Church that went silent.

Prayer #4:
God, I forgive the ones who mock the truth. I don’t understand their hearts, but You do. I trust You to be the Judge. Help me stay focused on obedience, not outcomes. I want to be faithful, not famous. I want to please You, not the world. Amen.

You know what I dream of? A day when abortion clinics are shut down — not by force, but because hearts are changed. A day when children are seen as blessings again, not burdens. A day when women are supported, not exploited by an industry that profits off their fear.

I know it sounds impossible. But with God, nothing is.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” – Proverbs 31:8

And I will. Even if it costs me friends. Even if I’m misunderstood. Even if I’m called names. Because babies are worth it. Truth is worth it. God is worth it.

Prayer #5:
Jesus, keep using me. Even when I feel tired. Even when I feel alone. Let my words carry Your fire. Let my life reflect Your heart. And if I mess up — which I will — remind me that grace is still mine. But don’t let me back down. Make me a warrior for life. Amen.

This world may not listen. But I will speak. I will write. I will fight. Because silence is not an option.

So here’s the truth — and I will say it again:
Abortion is murder.
Life is sacred.
God is just.
And if that makes me a problem, so be it.

The Real Reason the Left Is Intimidated by Christians

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I’ve tried to stay quiet. I’ve tried to keep my head down and live peaceably, like Scripture teaches. But there comes a point when silence feels like complicity. And today… today I’m fed up.

I opened a news app this morning, and there it was—another headline about how “religion has no place in the public square.” Another politician, another influencer, another self-righteous talking head wagging their finger at Christians for having the audacity to believe that our faith should inform the way we live—and vote, speak, and lead.

It’s not just that they want us quiet in the pews. No, they want us silent everywhere. And if they can’t silence us? They’ll censor us.

Big Tech—those self-appointed moral overlords—are doing just that. Editing sermons, deplatforming pastors, flagging Scripture as “hate speech.” You can post nearly anything online these days—filth, lies, propaganda—but quote Romans 1, or say “Jesus is the only way,” and suddenly you’re violating “community standards.”

Whose community, exactly? Certainly not the body of Christ.

Isaiah 59:14-15 could have been written about our culture today:

“Justice is turned back, and righteousness stands far away;
for truth has stumbled in the public squares,
and uprightness cannot enter.
Truth is lacking,
and he who departs from evil makes himself a prey.”

That’s it. That’s the world we’re in now. Speak truth, and you become the hunted. Refuse to go along with the narrative, and you’re branded intolerant, dangerous, even hateful.

But I won’t apologize for standing on God’s Word. I won’t “evolve” to appease people who celebrate sin and demand silence from the saints.

I’m tired of being told that my beliefs don’t belong in public. My faith isn’t a hobby—it’s who I am. It governs my conscience, my values, my decisions. You don’t get to tell me to keep it hidden while waving your ideology like a battle flag in every school, courtroom, and platform.

It’s all so backwards. They say they’re the tolerant ones, but they can’t even tolerate a Bible verse. They say they’re for freedom of expression—unless the expression involves Christ crucified. They say they want diversity—until a Christian speaks up.

What they really want is dominion. A godless, sanitized public square, scrubbed clean of every cross, every prayer, every conviction that challenges their golden calf of self-worship.

Well, I’ve had enough.

Galatians 1:10 echoes in my mind:

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”

I choose God. Every time. Let them mock. Let them ban me. Let them shadowban every verse I post or every truth I speak. I refuse to let them shame me into silence.

And let’s be honest, it’s not just secular progressives. It’s the spineless churches too—the ones that bend Scripture to fit trends, who’d rather be liked by the world than be holy before God. Some of them sound more like activists than ambassadors of Christ. No wonder the culture thinks they can push us around. Half the church already surrendered.

But not me. Not my house.

I’m reminded of Psalm 2:1-4:

“Why do the nations rage
and the peoples plot in vain?
The kings of the earth set themselves,
and the rulers take counsel together,
against the Lord and against His Anointed, saying,
‘Let us burst their bonds apart
and cast away their cords from us.’
He who sits in the heavens laughs;
the Lord holds them in derision.”

They think they’re strong, powerful, untouchable. But God isn’t worried. He’s not scrambling to hold onto influence in this digital age. He is sovereign, reigning, holy, and He will not be mocked.

And that’s what comforts me tonight. They may erase our sermons from their platforms, but they can’t erase truth from the hearts of believers. They can censor the message, but they’ll never silence the Gospel.

Still, I won’t pretend it’s easy. Sometimes I feel exhausted by the pressure. We’re told to speak “love,” but when love means telling the truth about sin and salvation, they call it hate. We’re supposed to be light, but the moment we shine, they call us bigots.

So I knelt by my bed tonight and prayed:

“Father, strengthen Your people. Give us courage when we’re tempted to cave. Let us be bold—not with anger, but with unshakable conviction. Let our pastors preach truth with fire. Let our teachers and writers and artists reflect Your holiness, not the world’s confusion. Protect Your Church, Lord, from compromise and corruption. May we not be seduced by applause or paralyzed by fear. Let us love fiercely, but never lie. Let us be known not just for kindness, but for courage. Amen.”

I don’t want to live a safe Christianity. I want to live a surrendered one. The kind that refuses to bow to any idol, even if that idol is wearing a rainbow badge or hiding behind a tech company’s algorithm.

The public square belongs to God just as much as the sanctuary does. Every inch of this world is His, and He’s not going to stay behind church walls just because culture says “stay out.”

So no—I won’t stop speaking. I won’t stop praying in public. I won’t stop quoting Scripture or raising my children to know the difference between truth and deception. Let them label me whatever they want. My identity is not up for debate.

The Word of God isn’t a private opinion. It’s a public declaration.

And I’ll keep declaring it.