Your will, not mine.

A difficult few years.

In 2021, I went through something traumatic. What followed was a long period of depression, and a distance from the people around me that I struggled to close.

I kept working, though it was hard to concentrate. Much of my energy went toward getting through the day. I could do that, but I couldn’t see much beyond it.

The comfort of something familiar.

Games and familiar television became a refuge. For four years, I watched the same series every night before going to sleep. I knew that world well enough to settle into it when my own life felt difficult to sit with.

There was real comfort in that routine. There was also a cost. I spent more time withdrawing, and less time present with my family. I could recognize what was happening without knowing how to change it.

Returning to prayer.

I had prayed throughout my life. During those years, prayer became more immediate. I asked God for help because I needed it, often without knowing what else to say.

Gradually, I began to feel heard. I turned more seriously toward Jesus Christ, read the Bible, and spent time considering His sacrifice and the love behind it. Those things gave me something to return to when I couldn’t make sense of my own experience.

I began to trust God with what I could not explain or control. That trust developed slowly. The pain didn’t disappear all at once, and I didn’t suddenly understand why everything had happened. But I started to feel less alone in it.

I believe God brought me through those years. I also know how gradual that felt while I was living through them.

Being present again.

I noticed the change in ordinary ways. I no longer needed to spend every evening in a game. Eventually, I stopped needing the same show to fall asleep.

My son and I started watching a series he enjoys. We could spend that time together, interested in the same thing. After years of using familiar stories to withdraw, sharing one with him felt different.

I still enjoy games and anime. What changed was the place they occupied in my life. There was more room for my family, and more of my attention available to them. That is the part I’m most grateful for.

What that asks of my work.

I say those words to God every day. They come from Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. I return to them because trusting God’s will is something I need to practice, especially when I have plans of my own.

Faith has made me think more carefully about what my work is for. I’ve spent years learning to build software. Working with AI has opened up more of what I can make. I want to use that ability in ways that are useful to other people.

Supporting churches and religious communities is one practical direction for that work. Helping a church share the good news of Jesus Christ matters to me. So does helping the people who serve there spend less of their time struggling with technology.

I don’t know where all of this will lead. I know enough to begin with the skills I have, listen to what people need, and take the work seriously.

A place to begin.

If you serve a church, a ministry, or another religious community, I’d like to hear what would help you do that work.

It might be a website that makes a first visit easier to plan, a place to share sermons and teaching, or a better way to organize events and volunteers. It might be an app that helps people stay in touch during the week.

You don’t need a technical specification. Tell us about the people you serve, what you’re trying to do, and what keeps getting in the way. We can start there.

My faith is why this invitation matters to me. The work itself will be practical: listening, building something useful, and caring about whether it helps.