Technology Strategist · Systems Architect · Speaker & Author
Thirty years building systems. Forty years studying Scripture. One conviction that ties them together: technology exists to serve people, not itself.
I'm a CTO and founder who spent three decades inside enterprise systems — retail intelligence, healthcare, higher education, professional services — and who is now moving deliberately from building software for organisations to writing and speaking about what all of it was actually for.
Five threads. One testimony. One sanctuary.
In my own words
For thirty years, I built systems. For forty years, I studied Scripture. And I've learned that the sanctuary — the quiet place where God is closest — is available in every season, every career, every storm.
I've been an illustrator, a sound engineer, a CTO, a minister, a teacher. I've been fired and rebuilt. I've been celebrated and overlooked. Through every pivot, I discovered something unchanging: walking with God means walking in a peaceful quiet space, regardless of what's happening in your career, your life, or the world around you.
I'm here to show you what that looks like — and to help you build it in your own life, your leadership, your craft, your organization, and your faith.
Five threads. One testimony. One sanctuary.
The record
I have been an IT Director, a CIO and a CTO. I have written production code since 1984 and worked as an illustrator and designer for forty years. The two halves are not a contradiction — they are the whole point.
Unified fragmented Wi-Fi, BLE, point-of-sale, loyalty and marketing data into a single behavioural intelligence system — one picture of the customer from sources that had never spoken to each other.
Restructured the CRM and the operating model around it: roughly 20% revenue increase alongside a 50% reduction in support staff — growth and relief in the same change.
Modernised the infrastructure and the front end together: 45% performance improvement and a 10%+ conversion lift, without a rewrite from zero.
Built a Java CRM with machine learning on Apache Lucene — applied ML in production years before the industry had a name for it.
The framework
Most organisations treat AI as a replacement decision. It isn't. It's a loop — and the loop only compounds when a human stays inside it.
The machine extends what a person can already do. Judgment stays human; reach gets larger.
Corrections feed back. The system learns the shape of good work from the person doing it.
Only what has proven itself repeatedly gets handed over — earned, never assumed.
Patterns surface that no one had time to see. The loop closes and starts again, higher.
“The future belongs not to organizations with the most AI, but to those with the most integrated human-machine intelligence.”
Technology does not create trust by replacing human judgment. It strengthens it.
What I speak and write about
These are the five subjects I can talk about for hours, and the five I'm building a body of work around. They are not separate careers. They are one life, seen from five angles.
Craftsmanship as a spiritual practice. Forty years of illustration, design, stage and sound — and why the maker's instinct is the thing that makes an engineer worth listening to.
Human-centred technology, agentic AI, and the gap between competence and character. I could build beautiful systems long before I could build a steady home.
Stillness with God when the storm is literal — grief, addiction, loss. Not theory. The quiet place is findable from inside the worst of it, or it is worth nothing.
Lost contracts, lost sobriety, lost people, often in the same season. I've been fired and rebuilt. What actually gets a person standing again.
Every calling matters, and the work is to build what lasts — in a life, a family, a team, an organisation. This is the roof the other four stand under.
Podcast hosts, conference programmers and curious strangers: any one of these is a conversation. You don't need a reason beyond interest.
The next five to ten years
I am in the middle of a deliberate transition — from coder and consultant to writer and speaker. Not away from the technical work, but through it, toward the part that outlasts it.
Take IteraOS public — the self-hosted, human-guided operating system I built from nothing, now running in production. And write its founding story: not the technical documentation, the human reason. Own your data, own your life.
Finish and publish the Arts in the Kingdom series — identity, craft and commission for people whose creativity is already holy and who were never told. Pair each with a workshop that lets the work live past the page.
A stage, a microphone and a room. Conferences, churches, podcasts, creative summits, boardrooms — the five threads travel anywhere people are trying to build something that lasts.
The through-line is completion and distribution. I have spent thirty years making things that worked and then moving to the next thing. The next decade is about getting what is inside me out into the world, in a form somebody else can use.
In print and online
A full profile of the work — the paradox of the illustrator who became a CTO, the Iterative Intelligence framework, and why human-guided AI is a different bet from the one most of the industry is making.
Where most of the thinking gets tested first — the Iterative Intelligence Cycle, human intent and machine execution, and why skills stopped being the main reason people get hired.
The framework in full, with the four stages and where organisations actually stall.
Building a life that organizes itself — why I built an operating system for one person first.
The part most profiles leave out
Most people in the faith-and-leadership space will tell you what they survived. Far fewer will tell you what they caused. I was an alcoholic for most of my marriage, and I was blind to what it was doing to the people closest to me. That is mine to own, and I own it.
We have buried a child. We have been failed and we have failed each other. Thirty-one years in, we are still here — not because we got it right, but because we kept choosing to be remade rather than to leave.
I say this on a professional profile page on purpose. The stillness I talk about is not a theory I read. It is the thing I found after I had been the storm, and been forgiven, and stayed. If that is the part you want to talk about, that is a conversation I will always make time for.
The rest of the story belongs to my wife and my children, and it is theirs to tell in their own words and their own time.
The invitation
I mean that more literally than most people do.
Agentic AI architecture or a Rembrandt. Why your CRM migration stalled, or why your creative team stopped speaking to each other. Grief. Sobriety. Church that wounded you. Whether to take the CTO job. How to start writing the book you keep not starting. Sound engineering. Murals. Scripture. Your idea that you think is stupid and probably isn't.
I am not gatekeeping this behind a discovery call or a funnel. If something here landed, reach out and say so. I would rather have too many of these conversations than too few — and if you are a podcast host, a conference programmer, or someone who just wants to argue with me about any of it, that counts too.
Or skip the form entirely
I am in Tampa, Florida. If you would rather just pick up the phone or write to me directly, do that — it goes to me, not to an assistant and not to a queue.
Whatever you want to talk about — the systems, the storms, the craft, or the quiet place underneath all of it — I would like to hear from you.
Five threads. One testimony. One sanctuary.