From Code to Faith

The Typewriter at Five

I’ve wanted to tell stories since I was five years old, crouched on the floor over my father’s ancient manual typewriter, pecking out nonsense words that felt important. That desire never left, but life taught me that creating from the heart was risky. Truthful stories revealed too much, made me vulnerable, opened me to judgment.

So I learned to code instead.

Technical work became my refuge. I could contribute, even excel, while keeping the deeper parts of myself safely hidden. For over twenty years, I built software systems, solved complex problems, and helped organizations function better. I was good at it. But I was always aware of something larger hovering at the edges—something I couldn’t name.

The Technical Years

My software development career began in the late 1990s and has spanned startups, established companies, and consulting work. I’ve built applications with Node.js, React, Azure, AWS—the full stack of modern web development. I’ve witnessed organizational dysfunction firsthand, survived startup failures, and learned how technical systems mirror the human systems that create them.

Even in the most technical environments, I found myself drawn to human questions: Why do teams struggle to communicate? What makes some organizations thrive while others collapse under their own complexity? How do we build systems that actually serve people?

These questions led me to write about the intersection of technical work and human experience. Articles like “Stop Coding Under Stress” weren’t really about programming—they were about staying human while doing technical work.

But the deeper questions wouldn’t stay buried.

Years of Searching

Throughout my technical career, I wrestled with questions that demanded more than code could provide. Does life have ultimate meaning? How do we justify our existence in a universe that seems indifferent to our struggles? What happens when the frameworks we build—technical and philosophical—aren’t enough?

I spent decades pursuing different answers: intellectual frameworks, spiritual practices, business strategies, creative projects. I would throw myself into each new direction with intensity, hoping this would finally make sense of it all.

But the existential questions always returned. The sense that I was orbiting something important but couldn’t quite reach it.

Wrestling with Faith

My relationship with faith has never been neat or comfortable. I’ve experienced doubt alongside belief, weariness alongside hope, questions alongside trust. For years, I thought this meant I was failing at faith. Maybe real believers had figured out how to eliminate doubt and simply believe.

Gradually, I began to understand that the struggle itself might be part of the story. That doubt doesn’t disqualify faith—it deepens it. That questions aren’t problems to be solved but realities to be lived through.

I’ve learned to pray through exhaustion. To trust God while acknowledging I don’t understand His timing. To believe in providence while taking responsibility for my work. To hope in redemption while facing the world’s brokenness honestly.

This isn’t the polished faith of apologetics textbooks. It’s my messy faith as I try to follow God through technical careers, family responsibilities, startup failures, and the daily weight of living in a broken world.

The Discovery

After five decades of searching, the answer proved startlingly simple: I’m called to give testimony.

Not to prove anything. Not to convince anyone. Not to build theological frameworks or teach spiritual principles. Simply to tell the truth about what faith looks like when lived through my particular circumstances.

They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.
— Revelation 12:11

The blood of the Lamb is God’s work, already accomplished. The word of my testimony is my work—an honest retelling of the story I’ve lived. This discovery changed everything and nothing. I still write code, still work with complex systems, still wrestle with doubt and weariness. But now I understand these experiences as raw material for testimony, not obstacles to overcome.

The Calling Today

My daily practice centers on early morning journaling—a few moments trying to tell the truth about what I’m experiencing, learning, and struggling with. Some of these reflections become the writing you find on this site.

I continue my technical work as a software developer for Ducks Unlimited, building tools that help organizations manage complex data and workflows. This work provides for my family and keeps me grounded in practical challenges that most people face.

Through FlareMark LLC, I occasionally work with mission-driven leaders who want to explore their own stories and understand how authentic narrative connects to organizational impact. This feels like a natural extension of my calling to testimony.

But the center remains simple: daily practice of telling the truth about what faith looks like lived through my particular life. Including the struggle. Including the doubt. Including the moments of grace that break through weariness.

Connection to Others

I write primarily for myself and God as a spiritual practice—a way of staying honest about what I’m actually experiencing rather than what I think I should be experiencing. But I’ve learned that when we tell our truth authentically, others recognize their own struggles and hopes reflected back.

If my story resonates with yours—if you’ve wrestled with existential questions, felt the tension between faith and doubt, experienced the challenge of living authentically in professional environments—you’re welcome here.

This isn’t about building a following or creating a movement. It’s about faithful witness. Telling what happened. Trusting that the truth itself, shared honestly, is what others need to hear.

That’s my story, still being written one day at a time, one honest reflection at a time. Still wrestling, still trusting, still telling what happens when you try to follow God through the particular circumstances of your life.