Today I write with a heart full of conviction and a mind freshly awakened by God’s truth. I’ve been walking with the Lord long enough to know better—and yet He’s so loving, so gentle, so precise in His correction that I can’t help but love Him more even in the middle of being exposed. There’s something about when the Holy Spirit shines His light on a part of me that’s not aligned with the will of God. It stings, yes—but it’s also freeing. Like truth that pulls you out of a fog you didn’t realize you were in.
The Lord has whispered to me before about being double-minded. I remember the first time vividly. It felt like a gut-punch cloaked in love. I was offended. Not outright angry at God—but internally, I wrestled. I remember thinking, “Lord, surely not I?” I was sure I was sold out. My lips said it, my actions (on the surface) looked like it. I went to church, I prayed, I gave, I served. What more could He want?
But God doesn’t look at the outward appearance. “The Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
And He saw mine.
My heart wasn’t fully surrendered. There were pockets—hidden closets—where I still sat on the throne. Where I wanted my way, my comfort, my attention, my timing. When things didn’t go the way I had hoped or planned, I grumbled inside. When people didn’t respond to me the way I wanted, I felt unseen. And isn’t that telling?
I’ve come to realize how subtle double-mindedness can be. It doesn’t always look like blatant rebellion. It can come wrapped in spiritual language, masked as maturity, or covered in Christian performance. But God knows. The double mind is divided—half surrendered, half striving. Half trusting, half controlling. Half focused on Him, half secretly asking, “But what about me?”
James 1:8 says, “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” And girl, that shook me. Unstable. Even though I smiled through it, I knew I had been living with a mind split between trust and self-protection. I said I trusted God, but when life pressed in—when I felt overlooked, rejected, or disappointed—what came out was telling. Bitterness. Jealousy. Entitlement. Not always outwardly, but inwardly for sure.
Just last week, I had a moment. I was about to meet up with someone, and I felt this urge to be seen—to say something clever, or deep, or “impressive.” I wanted them to notice me. Like a child jumping up and down shouting, “Look at me! Look at what I can do!” But before I spoke, the Holy Spirit gently interrupted.
He said, “Give that thought to Me.”
And I did.
I paused. I breathed. I surrendered that moment—not because I’m holy, but because I’m learning to recognize when it’s about me instead of about Him.
And when I gave it to Jesus, peace came. The striving stopped. The ego sat down. And somehow—miraculously—it felt easier to just be present, to listen, to respond with wisdom that wasn’t mine. The person asked me a question, and I could sense that Jesus answered through me. Not in some dramatic, super-spiritual way—but with a quiet confidence that didn’t demand attention.
That’s what humility looks like when God births it in you. And trust me, it’s not something I naturally possess.
The world screams: “Promote yourself. Assert yourself. Take up space.” But Jesus says, “Deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow Me.” (Luke 9:23)
That’s the paradox of the Kingdom.
I’m not here to be glorified. I’m here to glorify Him. I’m not here to be known. I’m here to make Him known. That’s the shift I’m learning to live out—not perfectly, but intentionally.
And here’s what’s wild—when I lose myself in Him, I find more peace than I ever did trying to make people notice me. When I humble myself, He really does lift me up, in the ways that actually matter. (James 4:10)
That’s why I want to keep coming closer. Not because I’ve mastered it. Not because I’ve figured it all out. But because His nearness is my good. (Psalm 73:28)
I long for His presence—not as a reward for good behavior, but as my daily necessity. I want to abide, not just visit. I want to live in the safety of full surrender. Because when I really submit every thought, every ambition, every desire to Him—that’s where I find peace. That’s where I find clarity.
Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8)
And that’s what I want—to see God clearly. No more double vision. No more blurry faith. Just Jesus, front and center, and everything else falling in line behind Him.
So here’s my prayer today:
Father God,
You know me. Fully. And still, You love me deeply. Thank You for Your patience and correction. Forgive me for the ways I’ve been divided—saying I trust You while still clutching control. I surrender again, even the hidden things.
Lord Jesus, be the only King on the throne of my heart. Let no desire rise above You. Help me to see when pride creeps in, and teach me to choose humility—not to be overlooked, but to make You unmistakably visible.
Holy Spirit, make me sensitive to Your whispers. Remind me when I start performing. Teach me to rest in who I am in You, not who I’m trying to be for others.
Draw me nearer, God. I want to see You clearly—with a single heart, a single mind, and a single focus: Your glory.
Amen.
The Christian Tech-Nerd 