I didn’t have a dramatic moment of conversion—no lightning bolt from the sky. My story isn’t flashy. But it is honest. And it’s been more than 56 years in the making.
Thank you to my friend and fellow photographer Richard Pochop for many of these images.
This past Easter, I was baptized and received my First Communion at St.Clare Parish in Roseville, CA. But the journey started long before that—in conversations, reflections, and small nudges that slowly pulled me from the sidelines and into something deeper, truer, and more alive than I ever expected.
Growing Up Without It
I wasn’t raised in a religious household. My parents occasionally went to church, but faith wasn’t central. I was never baptized as a child. My moral compass was shaped more by personal standards than spiritual ones. I didn’t drink or party—and I still haven’t been drunk to this day. A lot of my friends growing up were Mormon. I admired their values, and one of them—my friend Aaron—is still a close friend. But faith wasn’t a part of my life.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe. I just never connected with it. No one ever presented it in a way that clicked for me. Looking back, I wonder if my learning challenges—particularly dyslexia—played a role in that. Reading was always mechanical. Comprehension was hard-earned.
Amy’s Steady Witness
One of the biggest influences in my journey was right beside me the whole time—my wife, Amy.
She never pushed. She lived her faith quietly and consistently. She took our kids to church week after week. I stayed home and watched football. I helped the church with photography when asked, and I enjoyed the community—but I never felt like I was part of it.
Amy, however, was always open. She has an incredible depth of knowledge about the Church, and she delivers it with clarity and patience. I could ask her anything—no judgment, no agenda. That became a huge source of support as I slowly began asking more questions and taking faith more seriously.
A Shift in Perspective
One of the moments that opened the door came while I was driving a rental car on a trip to Atlanta. Alone with my thoughts, I found myself reflecting on the sheer amount of evil in the world—especially what we see online and through social media. The way children are harmed, how truth and dignity are undermined, the dark symbolism some of the cultural elite embrace… it struck me.
And I thought: If this level of evil is real, then the opposite must also be real. There has to be a corresponding good. There has to be God.
That simple logic hit hard.
Soon after, I came across Fr. Dan Reehil, a Catholic priest and exorcist who talks openly about evil and spiritual warfare. His practical, unfiltered explanations of the faith made sense to me. He also spoke about Mary—specifically the mutual pain of Christ on the Cross and His mother watching in agony. That reflection stopped me in my tracks. The shared suffering between Jesus and Mary became a turning point in how I saw both of them.
A Growing Devotion to Mary
That insight led to something else I didn’t expect: a growing devotion to Mary.
I never had a strong connection to her before, but the more I learned, the more I came to admire her courage, sorrow, and strength. She didn’t just say “yes” to God once—she stayed present, even in unimaginable pain. She stood at the foot of the Cross and never turned away. That kind of strength speaks deeply to me. I know her guidance will play a large role in my life moving forward.
Learning to Pray
Prayer didn’t come easily. I didn’t grow up doing it, and hearing my own voice in prayer felt uncomfortable. But I kept showing up. Now, Amy and I pray together every night. I’m learning to talk to Jesus like a friend and confidant. It’s still a work in progress, but the relationship is building.
The Rosary has also become meaningful to me. I haven’t made it a daily habit yet, but I’m getting there. Like anything, it takes repetition and intention. The same goes for confession—I haven’t made my first one yet, but I’m looking forward to it. The idea that baptism washed away my past sins is still hard to fully grasp. There’s a lot in my past I’m not proud of. But knowing those sins are gone—that’s humbling and liberating.
Overcoming Challenges with Technology
Because of my dyslexia, reading has always been a challenge. I moved to a large-print Bible and then to a digital one on my iPad, which helped tremendously. I also used ChatGPT to take notes and summarize what I was learning. It became a study partner—something that helped me keep up and truly engage with the material. I may have been the only one in class using those tools, but they made the difference for me. I wasn’t just going through the motions—I was learning.
A Good Head Coach at the Right Time
St. Clare Church in Roseville became my spiritual home. The pastor, Father George Snyder, played a major role in why I decided to go through with baptism when I did—and where I did.
Before I even knew him well, he had already entered our family’s story—he gave my father-in-law Last Rites during COVID, when few could even get into hospitals. That moment left a mark.
But beyond that, Father George has something unique. He has what I call the “X factor.” He doesn’t just preach—he teaches. His homilies are rich with insight, and his passion for the faith, the saints, and the Church’s history (especially as the keeper of relics for the diocese) is contagious.
To use a sports analogy: sometimes, you just need the right coach to get you off the bench. Father George was that coach for me. He got me in the game. And now that I understand how it’s played, I feel like I can step onto any field and hold my own.
That’s not to take anything away from my years at Saints Peter and Paul. I spent many Easters photographing the Vigil there, and I even had the honor of photographing a priest’s first Mass. That church holds a special place in my heart, and always will. One of the people I worked closely with there was Michelle, who coordinated many of the events I photographed. Her dedication, kindness, and organization made every project smooth and welcoming. Even though I wasn’t a committed member of the Catholic faith at the time, those experiences—thanks to people like Michelle—helped me grow in respect for the Church and its people. In hindsight, they were part of what eventually led me to where I am today.
But sometimes you need a different coach-player combination to unlock your potential. That’s what happened at St. Clare.
Surrounded by Faith
I didn’t walk this journey alone. My brother-in-law Michael acted as my sponsor, and I’m incredibly thankful for his steady support. Like Amy, he’s deeply knowledgeable and always open to discussion. I felt totally comfortable asking him anything.
For my godparents, I chose my oldest daughter, Victoria, and my oldest son, Ethan. I know that might seem unusual, but to me, it made perfect sense. Their faith and character are strong, and having them stand beside me during baptism made it feel like a true family milestone.
From Inspiration to Action: A Media Ministry
All of this has led to something bigger—something I never would’ve imagined a few years ago: the beginning of a media ministry.
I’ve worked in photography and videography for years. It’s what I do. But now, I see an opportunity to use those skills for something more eternal. The Church has incredible stories to tell, and many of our parishes aren’t using media to its full potential. I want to change that.
One experience that stands out is my time volunteering with the National Eucharistic Pilgrimage at the end of last year. It wasn’t just a photography assignment—it was a spiritual deepening. I documented the pilgrims’ journey, capturing moments of reverence and joy, and even collaborating with my wife on lighting for some of the images. That experience gave me a profound respect for the dedication of the faithful—and for the power of images to tell a story that words can’t always capture.
I want to bring that same energy to local parishes and beyond, capturing the energy and wisdom of people like Father George, the beauty of our liturgies, and the power of faith-filled lives. If my work can help others see what I’ve come to see—even just a glimpse—it will be worth every minute.
Stepping Fully In
This journey has given me peace I didn’t know I was missing. It’s not that everything is figured out—I still have a long way to go. But I’ve stepped off the sidelines. I’ve been baptized, I’ve received the sacraments, and I’m in the game now.
This isn’t just belief. It’s life. And I’m all in.