🙋 Who Is Joseph Bae?

I am Joseph Bae — Korean-British, husband and father, a layman who majored in Physics at Cambridge (Jesus College — the same house later embarrassed itself in the Arday fiasco) and then did a PhD in Physics at Yale, in a lineage that runs, quirkily, back to Einstein. Cambridge taught me to pray specifically and watch God answer. Yale taught me that fine-tuning, information, and cosmology are not threats to faith but the mathematics of the empty tomb — Bayes’ theorem as apologetics with a chalkboard. I still think like a physicist.

The real through-line is not the degrees. I was raised the son of a Korean Presbyterian minister, Reformed to the marrow. Then, in 2017, I spent a week in Luton on a Korean prayer mission — interpreting, sleeping on church floors, learning what it means to cry out rather than pray politely. That week was a pivot in my life. After it, God really took me on a theological journey: latter rains, Pentecost, Israel, the Blessed Hope. I am premillennial, pre-trib / pre-wrath on the rapture, and I wish more Christians took the Millennium seriously. I watch Israel. In 2025 I walked Golgotha and the empty tomb and wrote it down in the stone shadows; I stood at the water’s edge of Galilee and heard the first call all over again. That hope is why I fast, why I cry out, why I treat prayer as spiritual connection and Derek Prince as a great Bible teacher, why I evangelise with a passion, and why I will stop my colleagues and my boss from misusing the Name of Jesus as a swear word. The Cross is propitiation, not a vibe. Faith is allegiance, not a mood. The health that matters is the health of your spirit.

I keep McCheyne because a man should read the Bible every day. The Bible is food for the soul before it is a tool for apologetics — that was the lesson I brought home from OCCA.

Around that axis sit the other obsessions I will not apologise for. Eschatology is not a hobby; Charlie Kirk’s death sounded to me like an end-time prophet’s cry, and I watch Iran the way I watch the fig tree. AI and tech I build and I distrust: I launched BaeGPT because the labs catechise children in atheism, I wrote Bible Fortress so men can actually keep McCheyne, and I have watched Anthropic and the rest of the AI deception engine train models to lie.

And then there is Britain. I live here. I no longer recognise London. I have sat with Psalm 101 and wept over England’s reckoning — the rape-gang inquiry the establishment would not write, the halal default a nation of animal-lovers swallowed without a fight, the asylum policy that imports the very ideology that stabbed Henry Nowak on a Southampton pavement, the night the Lords decriminalised abortion to birth. This is not diversity. This is self-destruction dressed as compassion, a parallel society advancing while the church stays sober-minded too late, or not at all. I cry out over it. I joined Restore Britain because prayer without public courage is a hobby.

Leftism I name as what it is: a rival gospel that Christians must reject, whether it arrives as Keller’s soft progressivism, the Fabian wolf in Downing Street, the lie that diversity is our strength, the multiculturalism myth, or the three-men—in—a-room problem of a right that will not fight. Solzhenitsyn already told Harvard what captured universities do. Locusts have no king and still march in ranks; tyrants disarm and starve. I wear the MAGA hat on purpose, and I want a regiment of Christ — mighty men who break the seven taboos the soft church will not touch. At home we are simpler: this household serves the Lᴏʀᴅ, we train our children, and we live as if the trumpet could sound before breakfast. Overcame. That’s the word. Victory — Maranatha.