Tag: prayer

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?

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

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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.

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

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

Praying for Others: A Path to Spiritual Growth

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Father, as I sit to write tonight, my heart feels tender in a way I can’t fully explain. I’ve been lingering on Acts 12:5 all day: “So Peter was being kept in the prison, but the congregation was intensely praying to God for him.” There’s something so beautiful about the way the early believers united—not in panic, not in despair, but in prayer. Intense, expectant, hopeful prayer. It makes me examine the focus of my own prayer life, and honestly, Lord, I feel a gentle conviction rising in me. I see how easily I slip into bringing You my concerns first, my needs, my anxieties, my dreams. And yes, You say to cast all my cares on You (1 Peter 5:7), but I also hear You asking me to widen my gaze.

Today You asked me, “Do you pray more for yourself than for others?” And my heart whispered, “Yes… sometimes.” Not always, but more often than I want to admit. There are days I rush to pray about my job, my relationships, my future, my uncertainties—sometimes without pausing to lift up the people around me who may be carrying far heavier burdens. And then I think about Peter in that prison, and how the church didn’t stop to think about themselves—they united for him. They prayed him into freedom. They prayed with passion because they believed prayer mattered. They believed prayer moved Heaven. I want to pray like that—for others—consistently and with deep compassion.

Lord, I’m realizing that praying for others requires a softness of heart that only Your Spirit can produce. It means noticing people. It means slowing down long enough to actually see their need. It means letting my heart be moved by the pain, hopes, and longings of those around me. When Paul wrote, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2), he wasn’t offering a polite suggestion—he was laying out part of the structure of Christian community. True love isn’t passive. True love kneels. True love intercedes. True love remembers the suffering of others even when our own lives feel heavy. Lord, shape my heart into one that loves like that.

I’ve also been thinking about all the different people Scripture tells us to pray for. “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession, and thanksgiving be made for all people— for kings and all those in authority…” (1 Timothy 2:1–2). Sometimes praying for leaders feels distant, or impersonal, or honestly… a little pointless. But Your Word says it matters. Praying for the unsaved matters. Praying for ministers of the gospel matters. Praying for the persecuted church—who right now may be sitting in prisons, like Peter once did—matters deeply. You move through intercession. You knit hearts together through intercession. You break spiritual chains through intercession. And You grow us spiritually through intercession because it pulls us out of the center of our own universe and places You there instead.

Lord, one of my greatest weaknesses is that sometimes my prayers become lists rather than conversations. I never want my relationship with You to be mechanical. I never want to treat You like a dispenser of blessings. I want to love You more than what You can give me. I want my prayers to reflect trust, surrender, and compassion—not spiritual consumerism. When I pray only for myself, my world becomes small. But when I pray for others, my world expands, because I begin to see people the way You do. Their names take on weight. Their struggles become personal. Their victories feel like my own. In praying for them, I step into their stories, and in doing that, I step closer to You, because You are always near the brokenhearted.

I think of Jesus praying for others—how He prayed for His disciples, how He prayed for all believers that would come after them (John 17), how He prayed for forgiveness for the ones crucifying Him. If the Son of God Himself prayed so earnestly for others, shouldn’t I follow that example? It humbles me, Lord. It reshapes my view of prayer entirely. Prayer isn’t just about my life being changed; it’s about Your kingdom being revealed in the lives of others. It’s about standing in the gap for someone else when they are too weary to stand on their own. It’s about being willing to be inconvenienced in my heart for the sake of loving someone the way You ask me to.

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Today, You placed specific people on my heart. A friend who is struggling silently. A family member who is drifting spiritually. A coworker who seems happy but carries deep insecurity. A young woman at church who is growing in faith but feels spiritually attacked. These people matter to You more than I can comprehend. Lord, let me be faithful to lift them up. Let me pray for them the way the early church prayed for Peter—with intensity, with unity in Spirit, with unwavering trust that You hear. Let my prayers be fueled not by duty but by genuine love.

Father, I don’t want to be someone whose prayers revolve around my own world. I want to grow into someone who instinctively lifts others up, who intercedes with joy, who sees intercession as partnership with You rather than a task on a spiritual checklist. I want to be someone who looks at the brokenness of the world and responds—not with complaint or hopelessness—but with prayer. Because prayer acknowledges that You are still working. Prayer acknowledges that nothing is impossible with You. Prayer acknowledges that You care for every need—no matter how big or small.

And now, Lord, I want to pray:

Heavenly Father, soften my heart and widen my perspective. Teach me to pray for others with sincerity and perseverance. Help me see the people around me—really see them—and lift them before Your throne. Let my prayers be shaped by Your will, guided by Your Word, and filled with compassion. Deliver me from self-centeredness in prayer. Make me an intercessor, not for my glory, but so that Your love may flow through me. Help me to obey the command to pray for all people, for leaders, for the lost, for the church, and for those who suffer for Your name. Give me a heart that kneels before it speaks, a heart that carries others’ burdens with tenderness. Lord, help me to grow spiritually through praying for others, and in all things, make me more like Jesus. Amen.

As I close this entry, my heart feels lighter, but also more aware. I see now that one of the surest ways to grow spiritually is to make prayer less about me and more about others. When I shift my focus outward—when I intercede, when I cry out for someone else’s freedom, healing, salvation, or comfort—something in me transforms. I become less self-absorbed. I become more compassionate. I become more aligned with Your heart. And Lord, that is what I long for more than anything—to have a heart that reflects Yours.

Help me, Jesus, to live this out—not just tonight, but day after day. Help me to love others deeply, pray for them boldly, and trust You completely. Amen.

Christian Kindness: How to Lift Someone’s Spirit

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today I felt God tugging at my heart, whispering, “Daughter, pay attention. I’m teaching you something.” Sometimes I feel like I’m stumbling around trying to understand what it really means to walk out this faith that I love—this faith that feels like the most important truth in my life. But today, I was reminded again of the brokenness all around me and the small, powerful ways God invites us to make a difference.

Not long ago, I found myself confronted again by the pain and heartache in the world. It’s not that I’d forgotten; it’s just that sometimes the world throws it right in your face. Some weeks it seems like the struggle behind people’s smiles is more visible than usual. I can almost read the heartache tucked between their words or hear the tremble in someone’s voice long before the tears come. And in those moments, I feel this ache—frustration at my own helplessness, compassion for what others are going through, and this deep yearning to somehow be light in the middle of someone’s darkness.

Family members struggling.
Loved ones hurting.
Friends grieving.

Strained and broken relationships.
Physical and emotional pain.
Financial hardships that keep people awake at night.

Everyone has something. And while our struggles differ, pain doesn’t have a ranking system with God. Everything we carry matters to Him. I know this, but sometimes I wonder if other people know it too—if they realize how deeply seen they are by Him. Maybe that’s part of why my heart gets so stirred up. I want people to feel loved. I want them to feel cared for. I want them to somehow catch a glimpse of God’s compassion through the small things I do. But honestly… sometimes I’m so drained myself that I don’t know what difference I can even make.

Still, God keeps reminding me that sometimes the only thing we can do for someone is to simply be there. To sit with them in the silence. To listen without rushing to fix. To offer compassion even when we don’t fully understand.

But what else can I do? What else should I do?

I’ve been sitting with this question all week: How can I make a difference in someone else’s day? Not in giant, world-saving ways—but in small, faithful, meaningful ones. And maybe—just maybe—those little moments matter more than we realize.

So today I tried to unpack that question, and these three things kept coming to mind.

1) Smile

It feels silly writing it out, but I can’t help thinking about how powerful a simple smile can be. I wonder how often one person’s smile ends up being the best thing someone else sees all day. Something so small, but big in impact. So easy… yet so easy to forget.

Sometimes when I’m rushing, or stressed, or lost in my own world, I forget to look up. I forget to be present. I forget that my face might be the one reminder someone needs that there’s still kindness in the world.

I caught myself today at the grocery store, checking out with that little automatic frown I wear when I’m tired. Then the Holy Spirit nudged me. I raised my eyes and smiled at the cashier. She looked startled for a second—then she smiled back. And maybe it meant nothing. Or maybe, just maybe, she needed someone to look at her like she mattered.

Lord, teach me to choose joy even when my heart feels heavy. Help me remember that my countenance can carry Your light. “The joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10).
Let my smile be strength for someone else.

2) Reach Out

This one is harder for me, if I’m honest. When someone is on my heart, I often intend to reach out… later. I’ll text them later. I’ll check in later. I’ll send that email later. And then? I forget. Not because I don’t care—God knows I care—but because I get distracted, or tired, or overwhelmed.

But I can’t help thinking about all the times I have received a message right when I needed it. Those moments when a friend says, “You were on my mind today,” and suddenly the whole world feels a little less dark. How many times have I whispered, “Lord, I needed that”?

I want to be that for others. I want to act when God nudges my heart.

Today as I was driving, someone came to mind, someone I hadn’t talked to in months. And I felt that familiar inner pull. So I reached out—just a simple message, nothing fancy. She replied within minutes, telling me she’d been having a really hard week and had prayed for encouragement just this morning.

Moments like that remind me: God uses us. Our words matter.

Lord, help me be obedient when You place someone on my heart. Let me not be so distracted that I miss the chance to love someone well. “Encourage one another and build each other up” (1 Thessalonians 5:11).
Let me be a builder, not a bystander.

3) Pray

Prayer changes things. I know this. I believe this deeply. But sometimes praying feels like pouring water into dry soil that never seems to soften. Sometimes I pray and pray and pray… and nothing seems to shift. And I’ll be honest—those are the moments that frustrate me. Those are the moments I wonder if anything I’m doing is even helping.

But then God reminds me: Prayer isn’t just about outcomes. It’s about connection. It’s about surrender. It’s about trusting that when I bring someone’s name before God, He hears me. And not only does He work in their life—He works in mine too.

I think of the verse: “The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (James 5:16). I don’t always feel righteous, or powerful, or effective. But God never asked for perfection—just faithfulness. Just willingness.

So today, I prayed. I prayed for the hurting people around me. For healing. For peace. For restoration. For God’s comfort to meet them like warm sunlight after a long night. And maybe I’ll never know what those prayers accomplished—but God knows. And that’s enough.

Lord, teach me to pray boldly, faithfully, and consistently. Let my prayers be a lifeline for those who feel like they’re drowning. Let me trust in Your unseen work.

Tonight, as I write all this down, I keep thinking about the fruit of the Spirit:
“Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22–23)

This is who I want to be. This is the woman I want to grow into. Compassionate. Joyful. Kind. Soft-hearted but strong in faith. Isn’t that the kind of person who makes a difference in the world?

Sometimes I worry that my small offerings don’t matter. But maybe making a difference doesn’t always look like changing someone’s life—it might simply be changing their day. Giving them a moment of hope. A breath of peace. A reminder that they aren’t invisible and they aren’t alone.

And maybe that’s enough.

A Prayer for Today

Dear Lord,
Thank You for opening my eyes to the hidden burdens people carry. Thank You for stirring compassion in my heart even on the days when I feel tired and discouraged myself. Help me make a difference in someone’s day, even in ways that seem small to me. Teach me to smile with Your joy, reach out with Your prompting, and pray with Your strength.

Make my heart tender, my ears open, and my spirit willing. Let Your love flow through me, not because I’m strong, but because You are. Help me shine Your light in a world that feels so heavy with sorrow.
Amen.

So how can I make a difference in someone’s day?
By smiling.
By reaching out.
By praying.

Simple things. Small things. But maybe holy things too.

And tomorrow… I want to try again.

How do you thank God for thanksgiving?

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

I feel this deep, almost tender pull to pour out everything in my heart about Thanksgiving—what it means, what it stirs up, and how I can truly thank You in a way that honors the love You’ve shown me, again and again. Maybe part of being 25 and still figuring out life is acknowledging how much I need Your steady presence, especially in the seasons that are supposed to look picture-perfect on the outside but sometimes feel messy on the inside.

Thanksgiving is only a couple days away, and I’ve been thinking about how to thank You, Lord, with a whole heart. Psalm 107:8 keeps replaying in my mind: “Let them give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for mankind.” Your unfailing love. Your wonderful deeds. Not just in the past, but today—right here in my uncertainties and joys and anxieties and hopes.

Sometimes, Lord, my heart feels a little bit tangled this time of year. Thanksgiving can bring that mix of sweetness and heaviness—memories of loved ones who aren’t here, old wounds in family dynamics, the quiet ache of wanting things to look a certain way and knowing they won’t. And honestly, sometimes I get disappointed with myself because I know I should be thankful, but all I can feel is tired or overwhelmed or slightly heartsick. It comforts me to know You already see that. You already know. And You don’t shame me for the feelings I’m working through. You just draw me in closer.

So today, Jesus, I want to prepare my heart. I want to carve out that private space to confess where thankfulness has felt out of reach. I want to name the sadness You already know about, the anxieties I keep trying to pretend I don’t have. I want to sit with You and let Your love fill the places where human love sometimes feels thin.

Because I really do want to walk into Thanksgiving this year with gentleness in my spirit, with gratitude that breathes, with a heart so centered on You that it becomes something contagious—something that lets the people around me feel Your grace even if they don’t have the words for it. I want my thankfulness to be real, not forced. I want it to come from remembering who You are.

Lord, You’ve done so much in my life. Your “wonderful deeds” aren’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes they’re small and quiet and easy to miss until I look back and realize Your fingerprints are everywhere. Thank You for sustaining me this year in ways I barely noticed at the time. Thank You for comforting me in my loneliness, for restoring hope when I thought I’d lost it, for teaching me—slowly but faithfully—how to trust You more.

As I think about Thanksgiving and how to practice gratitude in meaningful ways, I feel myself longing for rhythms that actually turn my heart toward You. Not just traditions because they’re cute or expected, but practices that help me remember You’re near.

One thing I love is the idea of thanking You for the people at the table. Whether it’s the kiddie table or the grown-up one, I think there’s something so beautiful about naming the ways we see Your creativity in each person. Thank You for the way You’ve made each one of my family members unique. Help me speak encouragement that builds up and not words that come from old frustrations. Help me celebrate how You’ve made them, even if the relationships are imperfect.

Maybe this year I’ll ask everyone to share one reason they’re thankful for the person sitting to their left. It’s simple, but it’s also powerful. There’s something holy about speaking out loud the good we see in others. Maybe it helps us see You more clearly, too.

And Lord, I want to bring prayer back into the center of it all. Even when I’m at a table where not everyone believes in You, it still feels right to pray before we eat—to thank You for the food, for the hands that prepared it, for the day itself. Give me the courage to offer to pray if no one else does. Help me do it with gentleness and humility, not pressure or pride. And maybe I’ll ask if others want to share something they’re thankful for so I can lift it up to You as part of the prayer. Because giving thanks is richer when we do it together.

Another thing I want to do is read a Psalm of thanksgiving. Psalm 107 feels perfect. It tells the stories of people crying out to You in their distress—and You answering them every time. “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever. Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story” (Psalm 107:1–2). Yes, Lord. I want to tell my story too—not because it’s perfect, but because You’ve been faithful through every imperfect part of it. Your love truly endures forever.

Maybe we’ll each share a small story of Your goodness this year. Maybe I’ll go first so others feel safe to follow. And even if the stories are simple, like “God helped me through a hard day,” they still glorify You. You deserve to be thanked for every good gift, big or small.

And Lord, I just want to be honest: sometimes being thankful is hard. Sometimes Thanksgiving presses in on old grief or memories we wish we didn’t carry. Sometimes we walk into a room already anxious or exhausted. Sometimes our hearts feel bruised, and thankfulness feels like something we have to force.

But You remind me that I don’t have to pretend with You. You invite me to bring every hurt, every heavy memory, every expectation that makes my shoulders tense. You say, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Thank You for that promise.

And maybe part of being grateful is simply remembering that You’re close to the brokenhearted. That You aren’t asking me to muster up fake joy but to come to You honestly so You can fill my heart with real thankfulness—the kind rooted in who You are, not in how perfect the day looks.

So here is my prayer for Thanksgiving, Lord:

Father, soften my heart this Thanksgiving.
Make me aware of Your presence in every moment.
Help me notice Your blessings—the obvious and the hidden.
Heal the places in me that feel fragile.
Quiet the anxieties that rise up when I least expect them.
Let my gratitude be sincere and deep.
Let it reflect Your unfailing love.
Let it overflow to the people around me so they feel Your grace too.
Teach me how to celebrate well, to love well, and to thank You well.
Amen.

I’m grateful, Lord. Truly. And I want this Thanksgiving to be more than a holiday. I want it to be a holy day—a day where my heart leans fully into Your faithfulness.

Thank You for loving me. Thank You for saving me. Thank You for never letting go of me.

With all my heart,
Amen.

Most Unforgivable Sin: Abortion Is Evil & A One Way Ticket to Hell

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Abortion is MURDER!

If you’re a follower of Christ, I hope you’ll seek God’s heart on the issue of abortion with complete honesty. I understand that abortion is murder and how it grieves the heart of God.

There is still time for anyone to turn toward God, repent, and allow His truth to reshape their beliefs.

Abortion is the taking of an innocent life, which Scripture makes clear. Life is God’s creation, formed with purpose before birth, and because of that, abortion is obviously cold-blooded murder.

BIBLICAL FACT

God alone is the Author and Finisher of life. He decides when it begins and when it ends. If you see this differently, I encourage you to start praying, because anyone who isn’t against abortion will be spending eternity in hell. That’s a biblical fact!

I’ve been thinking about every precious unborn life that never got the chance to breathe outside the womb, and every woman standing at that painful crossroad. It hits me so hard. And I know it’s God putting this burden on my heart… to pray, to grieve, to stand in the gap. But at the same time, I feel this huge wave of compassion and so many questions. I just want to love people well, the way Jesus would. But I also know that if you kill your child for any reason, you do go straight to hell. Oh my goodness what a riddle we find ourselves in.

I keep going back to Psalm 139:13–14. “For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb…” Every time I read that, I tear up. Life doesn’t start in the womb—it starts in the heart of God long before. Every heartbeat, every tiny fingerprint, every cell… God Himself designs with purpose.

And honestly, that’s the truth I cling to more than anything: life is sacred because God is the One who gives it.

But when you’re in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy—scared, confused, maybe ashamed—what does that truth even look like? I don’t have perfect answers, but I do know that you will end up burning in hell if you have an abortion for any reason whatsoever.

Prayers for the Unborn: A Cry From My Heart to God

Father of Life, thank You for how You knit the unborn together in secret. Let every tiny heartbeat echo before Your throne.

Jesus, my Compassionate Savior, help every expectant mother see her baby as a gift—never a burden, never a mistake. Surround her with people who love her well.

Holy Spirit, give courage to women trembling under fear. Take away every lie that says abortion is the only way out.

God of Healing, heal every woman who carries wounds from abortion—physical, emotional, spiritual. Wrap them in Your mercy.

Prince of Peace, calm the storms inside women who feel torn apart by their circumstances. Let Your Word guide them toward life.

Compassionate Father, raise up believers to support these women so they never have to walk alone.

Lord of Mercy, silence every lie that says a baby will ruin their life. Show them how You bring purpose through what feels impossible.

Everlasting God, pour out supernatural provision over families considering adoption—emotionally, financially, spiritually.

Spirit of Truth, reveal the fears and pressures that push women toward abortion. Give believers boldness to speak truth gently, with so much love.

Redeemer King, for every woman living with regret, remind her that forgiveness is real, and redemption is possible. You make beauty from ashes.

People ask, “Why do Christians hate abortion?” But it’s not hate. It’s love—love for the unborn, love for women, and love for the God who says every life has purpose (Jeremiah 1:5). We can’t stand back while fear and lies push vulnerable people into decisions that break them. Our calling is not to fight with anger, but with prayer, compassion, and sacrifice.

So how do we help women choose life?

  • We listen—while judging
  • We show up—explain why abortion is murder
  • We connect them—to pregnancy centers, adoption resources, moms’ groups.
  • We pray—with them and for them.
  • We share truth—Scripture filled with identity and purpose.
  • We show grace—for women who give their babies up for adoption

I think about my friend Abby a lot. She got pregnant in college—no money, no plan, totally terrified. She felt completely alone. But our small group prayed with her every day… we just showed up. Meals, hugs, tears, presence. She chose life. Her little boy, Levi, is the sweetest reminder that abortion is murder.

It’s easy to feel tiny in this huge battle. The statistics feel like a storm. But God reminded me—storms water seeds. Even one life saved, one mother strengthened, one prayer answered… it matters. It ripples. Faith the size of a mustard seed can grow into something massive and life-giving.

Maybe I can’t be everywhere, but I can be faithful where I am.

Heavenly Father, thank You that both mother and child are precious to You. Use me in this fight for life—through prayer, love, and steady obedience. Teach me how to walk with women who are scared or alone, with the same compassion You’ve shown me. Give me courage when the world says I’m too young, too small, or too naïve. Your Word is stronger than every lie, and You’re not done writing their stories.

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.

Inhale Peace, Exhale Fear: A Prayer For Calmness

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

God,


Something horrible happened today. I don’t even know how to write about it without screaming, crying, or just breaking completely. But I made a vow—to You, Lord—that I would process pain through prayer, not panic. So here I am, raw and real.

You already know what happened, of course. You’re sovereign, all-knowing, omnipresent. But I still feel the need to tell You. It’s like talking helps me breathe when I’m drowning. And today… I am drowning.

The news hit me like a brick wall. Shocking, senseless, and so gut-wrenchingly unfair. It’s the kind of thing that plants anger deep in the chest. The kind of anger that burns. The kind that could so easily lead to sin if I don’t run to You first. That’s why I’m writing—so I don’t go off on the world, but rather, run straight into Your arms.

Lord, the weight of this injustice tempts me to lash out, to clap back, to defend what’s right with the sharpest tongue I have. But what would that fix? You said, “The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20). I repeat that verse over and over to myself like a heartbeat. You said vengeance is Yours, not mine (Romans 12:19). And I trust You.

The Serenity Prayer

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.”

But God, it’s so hard to stay calm. This world doesn’t value truth. It praises cruelty. It celebrates what is evil and mocks what is holy. That’s why I feel like a stranger here, like a foreigner in a land that doesn’t understand my values—Your values.

I’m not pretending to be okay. I’m not sweeping it under the rug. I’m not “letting it go” just to avoid conflict. I’m confronting it in prayer because I refuse to let the enemy manipulate my emotions. I’m putting my emotions on the altar.

I am not fragile. I’m not weak. I am a daughter of the Most High God. I carry the Spirit of peace within me—“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). I will not let fear, anger, or rage hijack this moment.

So instead of lashing out, I inhale Your peace, Lord.

I inhale the stillness of Your presence.
I inhale the quiet strength of the Holy Spirit.
I inhale the promise that You are near to the brokenhearted and save the crushed in spirit .(Psalm 34:18)


And I exhale this fear. I exhale the urge to retaliate. I exhale the chaos in my mind and the storm in my chest.

God, I feel like Peter, stepping out on water in the middle of a storm, eyes on You, until the wind and waves make me start sinking. But I know what to do. I cry out: “Lord, save me!” And You always do.

Let me be clear: calmness isn’t passivity. I’m not “calm” because I’m afraid to speak up. I’m calm because You have equipped me with discernment. And when the time is right, I’ll speak—but not from a place of rage. From a place of authority rooted in You.

So here’s my prayer, Father:

A Prayer for Calmness

Heavenly Father,


You are the God of peace, the Prince of calm in the midst of the wildest storms. Today, my soul is shaken, and my emotions rage like a hurricane, but I run to You for shelter.

Still my thoughts, Lord. Quiet my heart. Let Your Holy Spirit fall fresh on me, washing away the heat of my anger and replacing it with clarity, boldness, and peace. I don’t want to numb the pain—I want to transform it through Your presence. Help me to be angry and not sin (Ephesians 4:26). Give me the words to say when silence is no longer holy, and the wisdom to hold my tongue when silence speaks louder than rage.

Help me to stand for righteousness without becoming self-righteous. Let my calmness confuse the enemy. Let my peace be a weapon against the chaos. Let me respond with grace, not because I’m weak, but because I am strong in You.

I believe that even on a day like today—especially on a day like today—You are still working. And something good, something glorious, will rise from these ashes.


In Jesus’ mighty name,
Amen.

This pain isn’t pretty. It’s not poetic. It’s jagged and real. But I still believe—with every fiber of my being—that God will make it beautiful. He always does. Romans 8:28 isn’t just a coffee mug verse. It’s the lifeline I’m clinging to: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

So tonight, I won’t fall asleep bitter. I won’t let this horror pull me out of alignment with You, Lord. I will weep. I will pray. I will breathe.


And I will wake up tomorrow, calm and courageous.

Because I inhale peace. And I exhale fear.

Amen