"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made." - John 1:1,3
Six and a half years ago, I made the jump from 70-hour weeks in natural gas work to software development. Back then, I saw coding as just another job, a way to escape the brutal physical demands and build a better future for myself. But as I've grown in both my faith and my craft, I've come to see something profound: programming isn't just what I do for work. It's a reflection of being made in the image of a Creator God.
Speaking Things Into Existence
When God created the universe, He spoke it into being. "And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light" (Genesis 1:3). There's something beautifully parallel in how we write code. We sit before an empty file, speak (or type) instructions into existence, and watch as our words create functioning systems, solve real problems, and bring order from digital chaos.
Every time I write const newUser = new User() or public class OrderService, I'm participating in something that echoes the divine nature of creation itself. We're taking abstract thoughts (business logic, user needs, system requirements) and giving them concrete form through carefully crafted instructions.
Bringing Order from Chaos
Remember the state of things before Creation? "The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep" (Genesis 1:2). If you've ever inherited a legacy codebase or started a greenfield project, you know that feeling. There's a formless void of requirements, a deep darkness of "how the heck do we even start this?"
But just as the Spirit of God hovered over the waters, we approach our IDEs with purpose and intention. We architect solutions, establish patterns, create structure where none existed. When I refactor a tangled mess of spaghetti code into clean, testable modules, I'm participating in God's ongoing work of bringing order, beauty, and purpose to what was chaotic.
The Beauty of Good Design
God didn't just create functionally. He created beautifully. "He has made everything beautiful in its time" (Ecclesiastes 3:11). There's a reason we talk about "elegant" code, "beautiful" architectures, and "clean" implementations. Deep down, we recognize that good code isn't just about functionality, it's about craftsmanship that reflects something greater.
When I spend extra time making my TypeScript interfaces crystal clear, or when I choose descriptive variable names that make my code self-documenting, I'm not just being a good developer. I'm honoring the One who created with intention, beauty, and purpose. There's a reason the Psalms tell us that "the heavens declare the glory of God" (Psalm 19:1). Creation itself reflects the character of its Creator.
Stewardship of Digital Gifts
"As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace" (1 Peter 4:10). The abilities we have as developers (logical thinking, problem-solving, the capacity to learn complex systems) aren't accidents. They're gifts entrusted to us by a sovereign God who knew exactly what He was doing when He wired our brains this way.
At the end of the day, every application we build, every bug we fix, every junior developer we mentor is an opportunity to steward these gifts well. Whether I'm building a fullstack MEAN app in my personal time or debugging C# at work, I'm called to work "as working for the Lord, not for human masters" (Colossians 3:23).
The Limits of Our Creation
Here's where the analogy gets really humbling: our code is always dependent on layers we didn't create. My applications run on operating systems I didn't write, using languages designed by others, on hardware I couldn't manufacture. Even my most creative solutions are built on foundations laid by countless developers before me.
God's creation, on the other hand, came from nothing. Ex nihilo. That's a Latin phrase that means "out of nothing," and it's a uniquely divine capability. When I get a little too proud of a particularly clever algorithm, I remember that everything I create is built on the work of others, ultimately depending on the foundational laws of logic and mathematics that God Himself established.
Coding with Eternity in Mind
So how does this change how I approach my daily work? It means my code reviews become opportunities to show grace and patience. My mentoring of junior developers becomes discipleship in excellence and character. My problem-solving becomes an act of worship, using the mind God gave me to serve others and solve real problems.
Whether I'm working in C# .NET at my day job or building fullstack TypeScript projects in my personal time, I'm not just writing code. I'm participating in the ongoing work of a Creator God who delights in order, beauty, and purpose.
At the end of the day, every commit I push is a small act of stewardship. Every bug I fix serves my neighbor. Every clean, well-documented function reflects the character of the One who spoke the universe into existence with perfect clarity and purpose.
"So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God" (1 Corinthians 10:31). Even our code.
What's your experience been with finding meaning and purpose in your development work? I'd love to hear your thoughts and stories. Feel free to reach out to me at contact@patricklehmann.io. Whether you're a fellow believer wrestling with how faith intersects with tech, or just someone looking to find deeper purpose in your coding journey, I'd be honored to connect.