For the past decade, I’ve been living like a ghost in the machine; an undercover operative embedded deep in enemy territory. That enemy? Woke technocracy; pawns in service to a global cabal of oligarchs, hell-bent resetting the world without freedom. That territory? Big Tech and culture at large. The battleground? Culture, truth, and the war for hearts and minds.

Being an outspoken Christian conservative in tech during the rise of ideological insanity wasn’t just risky; it was like being dropped behind enemy lines with no backup. It’s the trifecta. It stopped being about shipping pixels and pushing code. It became about being a covert agent; even among other so-called Christians. In some ways, I had to be. I fought openly at the dinner table, face to face in hard conversations, in group chats, and meme threads online; but at work? I had to operate with a degree of tactical restraint. I wasn’t silent, but I wasn’t reckless either. Still, I was louder than most.

The sad truth? Most conservative Christians in tech were radio silent; passive, invisible, waiting until it became “safe” to speak up. And now that the culture’s shifted even slightly, they’re suddenly emboldened; hashtagging their bravery after a decade in hiding. But let’s be clear: that comfort was earned; hard fought; by a tiny, battle-weary remnant who refused to bow. Yes, even the meme wars mattered. Especially the meme wars. We were the tip of the spear; mocked, banned, ridiculed, shadowbanned, debanked; and we kept swinging.

We fought on every front: spiritual, cultural, civil and prayed to prevent things from going kinetic, though we prepped for that too. We watched truth get suppressed, riots get called mostly-peaceful protests, protests get labelled insurrection, reason get rebranded as “hate,” and basic discernment labeled as “extremism.” And when we called it out? We were labeled: anti-science, conspiracy theorists, fascists, extremists, and threats to democracy.

But time has a funny way of exposing liars. One by one, the so-called “conspiracies” were proven true. From the lab leak theory to digital censorship, from government collusion with platforms to medical mandates that shattered lives; to calling out and exposing the so-called “experts” in science and academia, every “tinfoil hat” moment aged like prophecy. 

No apologies came in, and now, people want amnesty. The same people who called for our jobs, our silence, our exile… now they cry “oppression” because they’re finally facing a sliver of accountability. But there’s no repentance. No reckoning. Just a weak cry to “move on” as if nothing happened. As if trust is automatic and memory is optional.

I haven’t forgotten. And I’m not interested in pretending.

During the worst of it, I kept moving. I uprooted my family, left California, and relocated to Tennessee; not in fear, but as the last peaceful effort I was willing to do live free. That move brought blessings: land, space, fresh air, a chance to reset. But it also came with tradeoffs: a different business culture, some heavy health battles, chickens, more bugs than I expected, and a lot of isolation. It felt like life in a submarine – on extended deployment.

In the chaos, I made plenty of mistakes too.

In an attempt to preserve my voice and maintain plausible deniability, I fragmented. I focused on the child brands; split identities across niches: faith, politics, culture, strategy. One for the Christians. One for the freedom fighters. One for the business world. One for the underground. Each one true; but each pulling me in a different direction. It divided my mind, my mission, and my momentum.

I am a master at strategic procrastination and sophisticated rationalization. I thought I was protecting myself. I thought I was meeting the market constraints of hyper-categorization, niche, and governing rules of SEO, algorithmic bullshit. Really, I was diluting myself.

But over the last year, something shifted.

Maybe it was burnout. Maybe it was clarity. Maybe it was just the voice of God saying, “Enough. Time to rise.” 

Whatever it was; it snapped something into place. My faith deepened, and with it my family’s as well.I realized I wasn’t tired from fighting. I was tired from hiding. I wasn’t drained by the battle, I was exhausted by fragmentation. And now?

Yeah… I’m thinking I’m back.

I’m done playing small. Done playing safe. Done waiting for the right temperature in the room. Done listening to others who cling to the sidelines encouraging others to watch “the plan” unfold. Done with the council of cowardice. Some of us are called to task and purpose. 

I’m not scaling “strategically” or filtering my voice through the fragile optics of platform algorithms. I’m not watering down the message to keep the brand intact. I’m letting go of perfect or even appropriate. I’m Unfiltered. Unfragmented. Unashamed; the overweight kid with a duct-taped mountain bike in a triathlon (in a street race), a misfit who seemingly has no business being here. But here I am speaking and serving an island of misfits encouraging them to do the same. 

So, I’m building again, but this time without quite so many masks. I’m speaking again, but this time without the muzzle. I’m fighting again; but this time with full clarity and conviction. Because the war hasn’t ended. It’s just changed fronts. And I’m here to sing a little bit louder than the unbelief and help others do the same. 

The fight for truth, freedom, faith, and family still rages on; but more people are waking up. And if you’re reading this, you probably feel it too. That fire. That frustration. That calling. Not just to react, but to build. To lead. To reclaim what’s been surrendered.

We don’t need more influencers. We need founders.
We don’t need safe spaces. We need strongholds.
We don’t need permission. We need purpose.

One of our many mantras at Heroik is a hero needs a CAPE; Character, Alignment, Purpose, and Energy. And I’m putting mine back on. Not because I’m fit for it or because I’m worthy of it.  Duty calls – and I am the type that answers for better or worse. 

“And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ Then I said, ‘Here I am! Send me.'”
– Isaiah 6:8 (ESV)

Another core mantra of ours – Heroes aren’t born. They’re MADE; in pursuit of Mastery, Abundance, Discernment and Exploration. I say this to remind myself as well as to inspire others. 

The time for waiting is over. The time for whispering is gone. The time for careful calculations, toeing the line, and “building bridges” to nowhere; it’s done.

The world’s on fire, the culture is cracking, and the future is still unwritten. And I intend to leave my mark on it.

So if you’re one of the few who didn’t sell out; who didn’t shrink back; who carried the torch in the dark and paid the price for it…

Let’s get to work.

Because the remnant is rising. We’re not asking for our place anymore. We’re taking it.

The era of polite silence is over. Now we build.