FAQ
Every reason to hesitate, answered.
The real reasons you might hold back before trusting a page with the things you don't say out loud — and honest answers, not a sales pitch.
Can I trust you with the most private things I write?
This is the question that matters most, so here's the whole truth: we hold the key, so technically we could read your entries. We never do, and we never will — your words are never sold, never used for training, never read by us. We won't claim we can't, because that wouldn't be true and you'd be right to walk away from anyone who said it. The full, plain story is on the Privacy page.
Isn't this just another cheesy Christian app?
We built it because we couldn't stand those either. No mascot, no verse-of-the-day, no habit streaks, no shouting. Restraint is the whole design — a beautiful page that happens to be made for the inner life. A believer recognizes their own; everyone else just sees a gorgeous journal.
I already journal in Day One, Notes, or on paper. Why switch?
You don't start over — import from Day One, Diarly, or Markdown (photos and original dates intact), parsed privately on your own device. What you can't get anywhere else is the long view: the Lamp, the Ascent, and the Altar turn years of writing into something you can finally see. And because you bring your history, that look-back is ready on day one.
What if I don't keep it up?
There's no streak to break, no badge to chase, no guilt if you miss a week — that pressure is exactly what we left out. Dayspring is built for the long walk, not the daily grind. Write when you have something to say; the Lamp and the Ascent quietly gather it whenever you do.
I'm not a good writer — I never know where to start.
You don't have to be. Type / for a verse, a prayer, or a /ritual — an ancient form like the Daily Examen or Lectio Divina that gives you somewhere to begin without telling you what to say. The blank page is the thing we worked hardest to solve. See the whole library of rituals →
Will it preach at me? Do I have to be religious?
No on both. The faith-aware reflections are a lens you choose, never a default you opt out of — no daily verse, no devotional pop-ups. The long view works for anyone who wants to see their life as more than today; the deeper it goes for believers is simply there when you want it.
Is this going to try to analyze my soul?
No — it's a journal, not a therapist-bot, and we deliberately stay out of that lane. Reflection is occasional and gentle: it arranges your own words and asks honest questions, never diagnoses or scores you. Your entries are never used for training. Our trusted partner may hold them for up to 30 days, only to prevent abuse, before deleting them. The full story is on the Privacy page.
Is it on iPhone?
Yes — Dayspring is on the App Store for iPhone and iPad, and it's a real macOS app on your Mac. Sign in the same way on each and your writing is the same everywhere: a paragraph written on your phone is waiting on your Mac when you sit down. In the App Store, Apple sets the price for your country, so it reads a little differently there — here's why.
Is it really worth $64 a year?
That's the whole product — the editor, every slash command, the Lamp, the Ascent across every horizon, and the Altar (50+ details in all). It's about $5.33 a month — and the only journal that reflects with you across years. There's also $7 month-to-month if you'd rather go slow.
What if Dayspring just isn't for me?
Start with a 14-day trial. See whether it's a page you actually want to open, and go month-to-month if you'd rather not commit to a year. Nothing about leaving is designed to trap you.
What happens to my journal if Dayspring ever goes away?
Your words are yours — fully exportable in a portable format, anytime, no lock-in. You brought your history in; you can always carry it back out. We'd rather earn your staying than fence you in.
Will it actually show me anything, or is it just storage?
Showing you something is the point. Dayspring reflects with you weekly and monthly, and when the year turns it reads the whole arc back — who you were twelve months ago, and who you've become. The Lamp shows where your heart has been leaning; the Altar remembers where God met you. A day is too small to hold a pattern. A year is a mirror.