Tag: prayer

Words of Grace: Top 10 Christian Prayers Every Believer Knows By Heart

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

The world feels heavy, but my heart is heavier for those who claim to believe, yet barely acknowledge Your presence. I’m not judging—well, maybe I am a little—but it’s because I care. I believe in You more than I believe in the air in my lungs. And if prayer is how we breathe spiritually, then we’re walking around as a suffocating generation.

CLICK HERE TO ENJOY ALL 10 PRAYERS….

So here it is: the 10 Christian prayers that have helped me stand when I had no strength, cry when I felt numb, and believe when I was tempted not to.

1 – The Lord’s Prayer (Our Father): A central Christian prayer taught by Jesus, found in the Bible, with variations across traditions.

This is the blueprint. Jesus Himself gave it to us, not just to recite, but to live. I pray it when I don’t know what to say. It reminds me that God is holy, sovereign, forgiving, and my provider. Every time I say, “Thy will be done,” I’m surrendering again. Honestly, it’s hard. But it’s real.

2 – The Hail Mary: A common Catholic prayer invoking the Virgin Mary, full of grace and mercy.

Some people avoid this prayer because they’re scared of sounding “too Catholic.” But I’m not afraid of reverence. Mary said yes to God when it meant scandal, shame, and sacrifice. When I pray this, I remember that obedience is costly, and God honors it.

3 – The Glory Be: A doxology, or prayer of praise, honoring the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

This one is like spiritual punctuation. I pray it when I finish thanking God or after reading scripture. It’s my way of saying, “All glory is Yours, not mine.” I can be prideful—especially when I feel spiritually “on fire.” But this resets me. 1 Corinthians 10:31 says, “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”

4 – The Nicene Creed: A fundamental profession of Christian faith summarizing core beliefs.

I had to memorize this in confirmation class, and I rolled my eyes at it back then. But now, I cling to every line. It’s our identity, our statement of belief. When the world pushes false doctrines, this prayer anchors me to the unshakable truth. “I believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ…” Amen.

5 – The Serenity Prayer: A prayer to feel peaceful, often used to promote acceptance and courage.

Acceptance doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m a fighter. But sometimes, the most courageous thing I can do is let go. This prayer pulls me back when anxiety takes over. Philippians 4:6-7 tells me not to be anxious, and this prayer helps me live that out. One sentence at a time.

6 – Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace (Prayer of St. Francis): A well-known prayer by St. Francis of Assisi, asking to be an instrument of peace and love.

This is my go-to when I’m angry, hurt, or ready to argue—which, let’s be honest, happens often. But it convicts me every time: “Where there is hatred, let me sow love.” I can’t claim to follow Christ and still spread bitterness. Lord, make me an instrument. Dismantle my ego.

7 – The Prayer of St. Richard of Chichester: A prayer for spiritual guidance and to feel God’s presence, ending with “Thanks be to you, Lord Jesus Christ”.

It’s not fancy. It’s not long. But wow, it reminds me to pause and just thank Jesus. Not for what I want—but for who He is. Psalm 103:2 says, “Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits.” This prayer is my whisper of gratitude when the day has wrecked me.

8 – The Prayer to the Angel of God: An invocation for a guardian angel to protect and guide.

I used to think this one was “childish.” Until I found myself alone in my apartment, sobbing in the dark, feeling like evil was closing in. I prayed it out loud. “Angel of God, my guardian dear…” And peace came. Whether you believe in guardian angels or not, God’s protection is real. Psalm 91:11 confirms it.

9 – The Prayer of Jabez: A biblical prayer for God to bless and enlarge one’s territory.

Some people treat this prayer like a vending machine. But for me, it’s a reminder that I can ask big things of a big God—if my heart is right. “Keep me from evil,” Jabez prayed. That part matters. I don’t want a bigger platform if it pulls me away from righteousness.

10 – Thomas Merton’s Prayer: A prayer for God to lead one’s path, focusing on trust and surrender to divine will.

This prayer is terrifyingly honest—and that’s why I love it. Trust is not pretending I have it together. Trust is saying, “God, I don’t know the way, but I’m following You anyway.” Proverbs 3:5-6 tells me to lean not on my understanding. This prayer helps me do just that.

So here I am, Lord.

Still messy. Still mouthy. Still full of questions. But I’m also full of faith—and I refuse to stay silent about it.

These 10 prayers have changed me, broken me, rebuilt me. They are not magic words. They’re declarations of surrender, hope, and belief. I don’t care if people think I’m “too intense” or “too religious.” I’m just too in love with You to play it safe.

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

I don’t pray these because I have to. I pray them because I can. And I won’t stop.

Mornings with God: My Favorite Morning Prayers to Uplift Your Spirit

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Prayer isn’t about fancy words or having it all together—it’s just about being with God. And the more I do it, the more realize how much I need it.

Why Is Prayer So Important?

Honestly, prayer changes everything. It’s not just a routine or something we check off our to-do list—it’s how we connect with God, reset our focus, and get spiritually ready for whatever the day throws at us. Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Praise Shifts Our Perspective
When I take time to thank God and just sit in awe of who He is, it shifts my mindset. Gratitude reminds me that He’s been faithful before, and He’ll be faithful again. Starting the day with praise puts my heart in a place of peace and joy—and that makes such a difference.

2. It Prepares Us for the Hard Stuff
Life isn’t always easy. We all face things that can shake us. But when I pray and ask God to help me before those tough moments even happen, I feel more grounded. It’s like putting on spiritual armor. Instead of reacting out of fear or stress, I can respond knowing He’s right there with me.

3. Prayer Helps Us Stand Strong Against Temptation
We all have struggles and weak spots. I’ve learned that being real with God about those areas—and asking Him for strength—makes such a difference. He doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but He does want to help us grow and choose better.

4. It Gives Us Boldness and Confidence
God opens doors all the time—little moments to love others, encourage someone, or step into something new. When I pray for confidence and clarity, I’m more likely to say yes to those opportunities instead of letting fear win. With Him, I know I’m not doing it alone.

Click here to Uplift Your Spirit with these Short Morning Prayers!

Caught in the Clutches of Moral Filth

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

It’s 1:37 AM and I’m wide awake, not because of caffeine or anxiety, but because I can feel Your Spirit wrestling with mine. You’re convicting me. You’re calling me to rise—not just as a believer, but as a woman who dares to confront the rot that is becoming “normal” in our culture.

I looked around today and felt sick. Not because the world is broken (I already know that)—but because Your people are getting comfortable in the filth. We’re not just “in the world”; we’re soaking in it. Marinating in it. Entertained by it. Desensitized by it. And then we have the audacity to say, “God feels distant.”

Isn’t it true?

When we find ourselves caught in the clutches of moral filth, when our hearts are numb from bingeing what You hate, when we start excusing sin because it’s trending—we find Your Word boring. Irrelevant. Too slow. Too old-fashioned. Too convicting.

But Your Word says something different:

“Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.” — James 1:21

Moral filth is prevalent. It’s everywhere. And Satan is crafty. He doesn’t just tempt us to sin blatantly—he numbs us so we no longer feel the conviction. He hardens us with a thousand small compromises. “It’s just a show.” “It’s just a joke.” “It’s not that deep.”

But it is that deep.

Because every time I scroll past something that grieves You and don’t feel grieved, that’s a sign my heart is crusting over. Every time I defend what You’ve called sin, that’s not progress—that’s decay.

Lord, You said:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness.” — Isaiah 5:20

Are we not living in those days right now?

I have friends—beautiful, creative, kind people—who claim Your name but walk in compromise. And I’m not talking about struggling. We all fall short. I do too. But there’s a difference between struggling and surrendering to the world. Between conviction and convenience. Between repentance and rebellion.

And I’ve kept quiet for too long. I’ve let things slide because I didn’t want to be “that girl”—the one who’s always talking about sin and repentance and righteousness. The one who’s “too intense.” The one who makes everyone uncomfortable. But Jesus, You didn’t die to make me comfortable. You died to make me holy.

Forgive me for letting silence win where truth should’ve been spoken.

I feel You pressing this into my spirit:

“If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left.” — Hebrews 10:26

That verse chills me. It’s not about messing up—it’s about hardening. About knowing truth and choosing the filth instead. It’s about hearts that stop listening. Minds that stop repenting. Eyes that stop seeing.

But here’s the miracle: even then, Your Spirit doesn’t give up on us.

Even when our hearts are hardened by sin, You move. You pursue. You whisper and shout. You send people and Scriptures and moments that cut deep—not to harm us, but to heal us. Like a surgeon, You take the scalpel of Your Word and do heart surgery.

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword… it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” — Hebrews 4:12

I’ve felt that cut. That painful, holy cut that exposes everything fake in me. You don’t just deal with symptoms—you go to the root. To the ugly. To the unspoken compromise. And somehow, instead of shaming me, You invite me to change. Real change. Deeper than behavior. Deeper than guilt. A transformation from the inside out.

Holy Spirit, keep cutting. Keep doing surgery on this heart of mine. I don’t want surface-level Christianity. I want to bleed truth and breathe holiness. I want to look at the filth of this world and not desire it. I want to hunger for Your Word like my soul is starving—because without it, I am.

Tonight, I pray not just for myself but for my generation. For those who claim You but are drowning in the noise of this world. For those who feel nothing when they sin. For those who are more shaped by TikTok than Scripture. Call us out, God. Ruin us for comfort. Wreck us for normal.

Give us hearts that hate what You hate and love what You love. Not just because we’re “supposed to,” but because we’ve seen the beauty of holiness and the horror of sin. And we choose You. Again and again and again.

Father, protect us from shallow faith. From casual compromise. From moral numbness disguised as grace. Let Your Word come alive in us—not just as a book, but as a burning fire that cannot be quenched.

Tonight I recommit my eyes, my mind, my hands, my words, and my witness to You. I will not flirt with filth. I will not laugh at what grieves You. I will not be silent while my friends slide toward spiritual death. I will speak—even if it costs me comfort, likes, or relationships.

Because You are worth everything.

Search me, O God. Expose the hidden filth in me. Cleanse me. Break me. Build me back with truth.

In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen.

When Fear is Faithful

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

This weekend, my heart is heavy and clear all at once.

Heavy, because I still wrestle with fear. Not the kind of fear that reveres God — the kind of fear that distrusts Him. The kind that whispers lies, not holy awe. The kind that tells me if I let go of something I love, He’ll take it and never give it back. The kind that makes God seem like a thief in the night instead of the Good Shepherd.

And yet clear — because I know better. I know Him.

I’ve walked with Him. I’ve cried in His presence. I’ve seen His hand in moments where no one else could’ve pulled me out. I’ve watched prayers come alive in real time. So why is it that when He nudges me to surrender, I panic like a child losing her favorite toy?

I’m a college graduate, living on my own, and still clinging to my childish insecurities when God’s asking me for childlike trust.

Jesus said in Matthew 18:3, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” And children — real children — trust. They ask questions, yes. They may cry when things change, sure. But they believe their daddy will protect them, feed them, provide for them. Why can’t I?https://youtu.be/VzY6dwn3Z_U

When I look in the mirror, I see a woman who talks a lot about faith but gets nervous when faith is tested. I say God is my Provider, yet I count the cost before I obey. I say God is good, but I hesitate like He’s about to trick me. Let me be real: I still fear that giving Him everything means losing everything.

But is that who He is?

Lord, help me. Remind me You are not a manipulator. You are a Father. A good Father.

I’m ashamed to even admit this fear out loud, but David did it in the Psalms — so maybe it’s not shameful, maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s sacred space when I take my fears to the throne instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Psalm 34:4 says, “I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” And I feel that deep. My fears are not always from logic; they’re from wounds. Maybe from childhood. Maybe from bad theology. Maybe from control issues I haven’t even fully admitted yet.

But the fear of the Lord? Now that’s a different story.

The sacred fear of God is freeing. It snaps the chains of every other fear. It breaks idols. It brings clarity. It’s not the fear that makes me hide — it’s the kind that makes me bow.

And if I’m honest, that kind of fear feels more foreign than I want to admit. Most Christians talk about fearing God like it’s a formula to get wisdom, but few live like His majesty could make you tremble and worship at the same time. That’s what I want — not to be afraid of God, but to be in awe of Him.

Because when I fear God rightly, I don’t fear losing control. I surrender it.

When I fear God rightly, I stop clinging to my small plans and start chasing His.

When I fear God rightly, I trust that anything He asks me to lay down is either being upgraded, protected, or purified.

It’s like James 1:17 says, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” That scripture hits me like a wave. He does not change. I do. My heart shifts. My feelings change. My confidence wavers. But His intentions are always love.

So when I think He’s about to “take something away” from me, what I’m really fearing is His character. And that’s not holy. That’s just me projecting my broken human trust onto a flawless, faithful God.

Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me for thinking You are like man — unpredictable, withholding, hard to please. Forgive me for doubting Your goodness just because I can’t predict Your timing.

What kind of God sends His Son to die for my sin, and then plays games with my destiny?

None. That’s not who You are.

You are consistent. You are kind. You are patient when I panic, and gentle when I wrestle. Your conviction doesn’t crush — it calls me higher. You discipline me not to destroy me but to deliver me. Hebrews 12:6 says, “The Lord disciplines the one He loves.” You only prune what You intend to grow.

So if You’re asking me to hand You the thing in my hand — the relationship, the career dream, the timeline, the idea of how things “should” be — then maybe You’re trying to free me, not hurt me.

Maybe this sacred fear is the beginning of freedom.

And maybe, just maybe, the enemy has been lying to me: telling me fear of God is scary when it’s actually safe. Telling me surrender is loss when it’s really access. Telling me God is withholding when He’s just preparing. I’m done listening to those lies.

God, here I am. I give You my trust again. With open hands. With a heart that still trembles a little, but a soul that says YES. Yes to surrender. Yes to reverence. Yes to fearing You rightly so I don’t fear anything else.

I want to live in awe of You, not anxiety.

Let the sacred fear of the Lord set me free from needing to control my life. I want to trust You like a daughter trusts her Father — with joy, not suspicion.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Click here to Uplift Your Spirit with these Short Morning Prayers!

Stillness That Strengthens: When God Asks Us to Wait

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Some days, I just want to run.

I want to escape the waiting, the wrestling, the in-between moments where God seems quiet and I’m left staring at my own restless heart. Running feels easier. Running feels like control. Running feels like I’m making something happen instead of sitting powerless.

But then there are these words that come back to me like a steady heartbeat: Repentance. Rest. Quiet. Trust.

They sound so simple. Almost cliché. But when I’m caught in the middle of life’s storms, those words feel like breath—sometimes even a lifeline.

And yet, they are so contrary to human nature.

I mean, who naturally repents? Who naturally rests when life demands that we perform, prove, push, and hustle? Who naturally stays quiet when the world screams for our attention, our anxiety, our panic? Who naturally trusts when every part of us is screaming, “Fix this now! Fix this now!”

Not me.

But here’s the honest truth: I need to repent, rest, be quiet, and trust. Because without these, I spiral into chaos, doubt, and fear. The kind of fear that feels like a noose tightening around my soul.

Repentance is hard. It requires me to look honestly at my sin—my impatience, my distrust, my desire to control. It means admitting I don’t have all the answers. It means laying down my pride and my so-called strength and saying, “God, I’ve been wrong. I need You.”

Psalm 51:10 says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” I cling to that promise every time I repent—because I know my heart is a mess without His cleansing.

And rest? Rest feels like a luxury I can’t afford. The world tells me rest means weakness. But God says something else.

In Matthew 11:28-29, Jesus invites us: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” That rest isn’t just physical. It’s spiritual. Emotional. A surrender to His peace that surpasses understanding.

Quiet is nearly impossible in my loud, distracted world. But God calls me to stillness. Psalm 46:10 commands, “Be still, and know that I am God.” To be still is not passive. It’s powerful. It’s faith in action. It’s saying, “I will wait. I will listen. I will trust Your voice over the chaos.”

And trust… oh, how I struggle with trust. Trust means giving God the right to write my story, even when the ending looks uncertain or scary. Proverbs 3:5-6 urges me, “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.” But trusting when I don’t see, when I don’t understand, is the hardest thing.

Waiting on God requires me to submit myself to His will—whatever it holds. Even when it means discomfort, delay, or disappointment.

But here’s the thing: there is a reward for waiting. Not always the reward I expect, but a reward nonetheless. In waiting, I encounter His grace—unmerited favor that covers my doubts and failures. I experience His compassion—tender mercies that heal my hurting heart. And I witness His justice—perfect and righteous, unfolding at the perfect time.

Isaiah 40:31 says, “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” That promise is not just poetic. It’s a lifeline for my weary soul.

So, am I willing to repent so I can rest in who God is right now? Am I willing to be quiet when everything in me wants to scream? Am I willing to trust even when I don’t see the full picture?

Lord, help me. Help me to surrender my impatience, my fear, and my control. Help me to wait—not just in passing time but in faith. Help me to find peace in Your timing, not mine.

I’m learning that waiting on God isn’t about inactivity or defeat. It’s a deliberate, active posture of faith. It’s choosing to stay put in His presence even when my soul demands to run away.

I have to believe the reward is worth it. Because if waiting on God leads to deeper grace, stronger faith, and a heart more like His, then I want to wait.

Sometimes I get scared, though. Scared that my waiting is wasted. Scared that nothing will change. Scared that I’m missing out on something better.

But the Bible reminds me that God’s timing is perfect.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” I want to lean into that truth, even when seasons feel long or dark.

I want to rest in the fact that my God is sovereign. That He holds all things in His hands. That He is not caught off guard by my fears or my struggles. That He is working all things for my good and His glory.

Romans 8:28 is my anchor: “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.” Waiting is part of the “all things.”

So tonight, I choose to stop running.

I choose repentance over pride.

I choose rest over striving.

I choose quiet over chaos.

I choose trust over fear.

Sovereign Lord, I come to You in my weakness, in my impatience, in my restless heart. I ask for Your grace to cover me. Your compassion to comfort me. Your justice to prevail in the situations that feel overwhelming.

Help me to wait on You without wavering. Help me to find peace not in the absence of difficulty, but in the presence of You.

Give me strength to stand firm. Wisdom to know when to act and when to be still. Courage to surrender my plans to Your perfect will.

I do not want to run away anymore. I want to run to You.

Teach me to wait well.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Waiting on God is hard, Diary. But I am learning it’s necessary. It’s sacred. It’s transformative.

So here I am, still waiting, still believing, still trusting.

With all my heart!

Shine God’s Light: Simple Ways to Bless Others Daily

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

Today has been heavy, and I don’t say that lightly. Not in a “woke up on the wrong side of the bed” kind of way, but heavy like I’m carrying weights that don’t even belong to me. I guess that’s what happens when your heart is so open to the brokenness around you. You start to feel the ache of others. And let me tell you—there’s so much ache in the world right now.

It’s not like I ever really forget how hard life can be, but some weeks just shove it in your face. This week has been one of those. I can’t stop seeing the pain behind people’s eyes, the tension in their smiles. It’s like God gave me a special lens this week to see what’s usually hidden. A spiritual x-ray vision, maybe.

Family members are dealing with health scares and secrets too deep to share. Friends are grieving—one just lost her mom, and another had her heart broken by someone who promised forever. Financial stress is drowning some people I love. Others are still battling wounds from relationships that never healed right. And what do I even say to all that?

I used to feel helpless in moments like these. Like my compassion wasn’t enough, and my words were falling flat. But God’s been teaching me something powerful: it’s not always about fixing it. Sometimes it’s about showing up, really showing up.

Romans 12:15 tells us, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” That verse is such a simple call, but it’s deeply confrontational if we’re honest. It’s asking us to feel with people—to step into their joy and their pain without rushing it or sanitizing it with shallow encouragement.

So, what can we really do when we can’t fix things? I’m learning there are three simple things that carry eternal weight.

I felt prompted to text my old college roommate two days ago. We haven’t talked in months—life gets busy, right? But God wouldn’t let her off my heart. So I did. Just a simple message: “Hey, I was thinking of you today. How are you really doing?” She called me crying. Her father had just gone into the hospital. She hadn’t told many people yet.

God doesn’t prompt us randomly. If someone is on your heart, act on it. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, “Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” But how can we help anyone up if we don’t see that they’ve fallen?

I want to be the kind of woman who doesn’t just say “I’ll pray for you” and move on. I want to check in, be present, hold space for the hard stuff.

It sounds ridiculous at first, right? But a genuine smile is a ministry all its own.

I was in the grocery store yesterday, and the cashier looked exhausted. You know the kind of tired that has nothing to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with life just being too much? That kind. I smiled, met her eyes, and said, “Thank you for being here today.” She paused, blinked, and said, “That just made my whole morning.”

We’re not called to be flashy or loud with our faith 24/7, but we are called to let Christ shine through us. Matthew 5:16 reminds us, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Sometimes that light looks like a smile that says, “I see you. You matter.”

This is the foundation of everything.

Prayer is not passive—it’s powerful. James 5:16 says, “The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous person avails much.” I cling to that. Even when I feel like my words are weak or my faith feels shaky. Prayer still matters.

When we pray, we’re stepping into the gap for others. We’re saying, “God, I don’t have the answers, but You do. Show up. Intervene. Heal.” It’s the most loving thing we can do, especially when we feel powerless.

I’ve learned that when I start praying for someone else, God often works in me just as much. He softens my heart, refines my attitude, and teaches me patience and empathy.

So here’s my challenge to myself—and to you, if you’re reading this one day:
Make a difference in someone’s day. Not because it earns you favor with God. Not because it’ll fix their problems. But because Jesus cared deeply about people, and if we’re walking with Him, we should too.

Let me leave this here as a prayer I wrote tonight, hoping it helps me focus on what matters:

God,


Thank You for giving me a heart that feels deeply. Thank You for showing me the pain in others—not so I can carry it all, but so I can love them well.
Help me to never grow numb to suffering. Help me to smile when someone needs joy, to reach out when someone feels forgotten, and to pray with faith even when I can’t see the outcome.


Let me be a vessel for Your compassion. Let my presence make a difference, even in small ways. Remind me that no act of kindness is wasted in Your Kingdom.
In Jesus’ powerful name, Amen.

Tomorrow, I’ll try again. I’ll smile even if I’m tired. I’ll text the person I’m thinking of instead of just thinking. I’ll pray like I believe it changes everything.

Because it does.

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.

Morning Prayers to Ignite Your Faith: Start Each Day with God

Posted on by thechristiantechnerd

(ME JUST WAKING UP AND READY TO START THE MORNING WITH PRAYER)

People talk a lot about “morning routines.” Skincare. Journaling. Gym. Protein smoothies. But if Jesus isn’t the first voice I hear and the first presence I seek, I’ve already missed the point of being alive today. I’m not trying to be dramatic — just honest. I’ve been through too much to fake my faith now. The only reason I’ve made it this far is because God held me when no one else even noticed I was falling.

So here I am, writing this out, partly to remember and partly to remind anyone who reads this — if you want power, peace, and purpose in your day, start it with God. Not Instagram. Not the news. Not your anxiety. Go to the throne, not your phone.

Here are the 10 morning prayers I’ve been leaning on. Some days I whisper them with tears, other days I shout them like war cries. But every day, I mean them.

🙏 1. Prayer for Presence

Lord, before I even touch my phone or plan my day, I want You. Be the first voice I hear. Fill this room, fill my heart, and remind me that You are with me. I don’t want to do a single thing without You. Amen.

Some mornings I wake up and I already feel behind — like life’s sprinting and I’m crawling. But His presence stills me. No rush. No panic. Just Him.

🙏 2. Prayer for Gratitude

Jesus, thank You for this day — this breath, this beating heart, this new mercy. Even if everything else feels broken, the fact that I woke up means You’re not done with me yet. Thank You. Amen.

I used to only thank Him when I felt blessed. Now I thank Him even when it hurts. That’s maturity — praising God with a cracked voice.

🙏 3. Prayer for Boldness

Father, make me bold. Not arrogant, not loud — but boldly obedient. Help me speak truth even when it costs me. Help me love when it’s not convenient. Make me brave for You. Amen.

Some people call me “too much.” But if I’m too much for them while I’m following Jesus, then maybe they’re not walking with the same Jesus.

🙏 4. Prayer for Wisdom

Holy Spirit, guide my decisions today. Don’t let me lean on my own understanding. Lead me in every conversation, every step. I don’t want to just be busy — I want to be in alignment. Amen.

I’ve made dumb choices when I didn’t wait for God’s voice. Now I know — wisdom is more than smarts. It’s surrender.

🙏 5. Prayer for Peace

Prince of Peace, calm the storms in my soul. Quiet the voices of fear, regret, and insecurity. Anchor me in Your truth. I choose peace over panic today. Amen.

My peace doesn’t come from circumstances — it comes from knowing who’s in control. And it’s not me. Praise God for that.

🙏 6. Prayer for Purpose

God, use me today. I don’t want to just exist — I want to live on mission. Show me who needs love, who needs truth, who needs hope. Send me. Amen.

Every day has eternal value. If I’m breathing, I’m called. Period.

🙏 7. Prayer for Protection

Lord, protect my mind, my body, my heart. Guard me from temptation, from distraction, from harm. Send angels around me. I plead the blood of Jesus over this day. Amen.

I don’t play with spiritual warfare. The devil’s real — but so is my Defender.

🙏 8. Prayer for Forgiveness

Jesus, forgive me for the ways I’ve fallen short — yesterday, last week, even this morning. Wash me clean. I receive Your grace. I refuse to walk in shame. Amen.

I’ve messed up. A lot. But God’s grace keeps chasing me down. Every day, He still says, “Come home.”

🙏 9. Prayer for Joy

Father, fill me with joy today — real, holy joy that doesn’t depend on what happens. Remind me that I am loved, chosen, and held by You. Let joy be my strength. Amen.

Joy is a weapon. It’s how I fight back against depression, discouragement, and despair.

🙏 10. Prayer for Revival

God, wake me up. Wake up Your church. Let revival start in my heart today. Set me on fire for You. I don’t want lukewarm faith. I want You — fully, fiercely, forever. Amen.

We don’t need more comfort. We need fire. The world is dying while we sleep in. God, forgive us. Shake us.

I don’t care if people think I’m “too Christian.” I’m not living for their approval. I’m living for the God who saved me, healed me, and gave me a reason to breathe again.

If someone’s reading this looking for a sign — this is it. Start your morning with Jesus. Open your Bible before your apps. Talk to God before anyone else. Don’t wait until life falls apart to get desperate. Be desperate now.

And to my future self: don’t forget this. The days you feel closest to God are the ones you started with Him. Stay anchored. Stay hungry. Stay faithful.

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.