I've been writing code professionally for 6.5 years now, and I love what I do. There's something deeply satisfying about solving problems, building things that work, and getting better at your craft over time. But here's what I've learned: you can absolutely love software engineering while having zero patience for the "ackshually" crowd that comes with it.
You know the type. The developers who can't let a single technical detail pass without correction. The ones who derail every conversation to showcase their encyclopedic knowledge of obscure framework quirks. The folks who seem more interested in being right than in being helpful.
And here's the kicker: this isn't just a tech problem. I see the exact same thing in Christian and theology circles.
The "Ackshually" Problem Isn't Just for Nerds
As a Reformed Christian, I've spent plenty of time in Bible studies and theological discussions. And let me tell you, the Reformed world has its own version of the "ackshually" guy. You mention anything about theology, and suddenly someone's ready to give you a 45-minute dissertation on supralapsarianism versus infralapsarianism, complete with citations from the Synod of Dort.
Look, I appreciate good theology. I really do. But there's a massive difference between loving sound doctrine and loving the sound of your own voice correcting everyone else's doctrine.
Proverbs 18:2 nails it: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion." Whether it's code reviews or theological debates, some people are less interested in understanding and more interested in performing their expertise.
Knowledge Without Love Is Just Noise
Paul puts it perfectly in 1 Corinthians 13:1: "If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal."
Technical knowledge without humility? Theological precision without grace? That's just noise. Clanging cymbals. And nobody wants to work with (or worship alongside) a clanging cymbal.
I've been in meetings where I flat-out don't know something, and I'll say it. "I don't know, let me look into that." You know what happens? Usually nothing bad. Often something good, because someone else shares what they know, and we all move forward together.
That's not weakness. That's Proverbs 12:15 in action: "The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise man listens to advice."
The Freedom to Just Do Good Work
Here's what I've come to appreciate about both my faith and my career: I don't have to be the smartest person in the room. I don't have to win every technical argument. I don't have to correct every theological imprecision I hear at church.
I can write clean code, ship features that work, and go home to my wife and daughter at a reasonable hour. I can grow in my understanding of Scripture, participate meaningfully in my church community, and trust that the Holy Spirit is capable of teaching people without me being His official spokesman.
At the end of the day, loving your craft means caring about doing it well, not performing expertise for an audience. Whether that craft is software engineering or studying God's Word, the posture should be the same: humble, helpful, and focused on actually building something good rather than just showing off what you know.
It Is What It Is
I'm a disc-golfing brogrammer who made it from 70-hour weeks in natural gas to a solid career in tech. I love solving problems. I love learning new things. I love good theology and good code.
But I have zero patience for people who love being right more than they love being helpful. And I think that's not just okay, it's actually the biblical position.
You can love the craft without loving the pretension. You can pursue excellence without being insufferable about it. And honestly? The tech world and the church would both be better off with more of that and less "well, technically speaking..."