I get it. Sometimes blogs can come off a bit shallow, kind of like those first five minutes of small talk at a party. You know, where you’re telling someone what you do, not who you are. So, I thought it’s high time I give you the real rundown on me—no fluff, just the story of who I am, where I’ve been, and maybe a peek at what makes me tick. And since we’re doing this deep dive, I thought, why not compare myself to a saint? It’s not about saying I’m anywhere close to saintly (trust me, I’m very much still learning, still fumbling, still finding my way), but more about seeing if there are lessons from one of those extraordinary lives that resonate with my journey.
So, let me introduce you to St. Peter. Yeah, that St. Peter—the fisherman turned apostle turned foundational figure of the Church. The guy who stumbled, doubted, messed up, and somehow still ended up as the “rock” on which Jesus built His Church. Peter’s story hits close to home for me, and I think there’s a lot we have in common. Let’s dive into it, and I’ll show you what I mean.
The Fisherman
Peter started off as a fisherman, and while I’m not literally pulling nets out of the Sea of Galilee, there’s something in that humble beginning that I relate to. Before he met Jesus, Peter wasn’t some scholar or religious figure. He was just a guy, working with his hands, doing what needed to be done to provide. And if I look at my own life, I see a lot of that same down-to-earth grind. Building businesses, managing cash flow, getting out there to make a living—it’s all about being willing to do the hard work, even when it’s not glamorous. I’ve had my fair share of times being in the trenches, figuring out what it takes to get things done. And like Peter, I’ve had moments where it was more about survival than anything else.
But Peter’s life didn’t stay there, in the everyday hustle. One day, he met Jesus, and everything changed. I think about my own journey of faith, and while I didn’t get a face-to-face with Christ walking along the beach, I’ve had those moments—times where God reached in and turned things upside down in the best way. It’s that experience of being called to something greater than yourself. Peter didn’t know where that journey would take him, and frankly, I haven’t either. But the idea of leaving behind what’s familiar, of trusting in something much bigger than yourself, resonates deeply with me.
The Stumbles and the Doubts
If there’s one part of Peter’s story that really gets me, it’s how often he stumbled—how often he got it wrong. He tried to walk on water, then sank when he took his eyes off Jesus. He swore he’d never deny Jesus, and then turned around and did exactly that three times. I get that. I really do. I’ve had my share of leaps of faith that ended with me face-down in the water. I’ve made promises to myself and others that I couldn’t keep, not because I didn’t want to, but because sometimes fear and doubt creep in and get the best of you.
There’s something so profoundly human in Peter’s failures, and that’s where I find comfort. I’m a guy who’s built things and lost them. I’ve made plans that looked foolproof on paper and still managed to mess them up. And like Peter, I’ve had those moments where I denied the very things I knew to be true because it was easier, or because I was scared, or just because I was too tired to fight. But Peter’s story isn’t just about the falling—it’s about getting back up.
One of the things I’ve learned, and something I think Peter knew well by the end of his life, is that failure isn’t the opposite of success. It’s part of it. You fall, you learn, you get back up, and you keep going. That’s been a recurring theme in my life. Whether it was the business that fell apart or the times I’ve felt lost in the wilderness of entrepreneurship, those setbacks have taught me more about who I am and who God is than any of my successes ever could.
The Rock
Jesus called Peter “the rock” on which He would build His Church. Now, let’s be clear—I’m not suggesting I’m anyone’s rock. But there’s something about the transformation in Peter that I think speaks to what I’m striving for. Peter wasn’t born with unshakable faith or perfect courage. He was shaped, molded, and sometimes broken along the way until he became the man Jesus knew he could be. And that’s a process I relate to.
I think about the times I’ve been called to be a rock for others—for my family, for my team, for the people who look to me for leadership. It’s a humbling thing to realize that being a rock doesn’t mean being unbreakable. It means being there, even when you’re cracked and chipped. It means showing up, even when you’re not sure you have what it takes. Peter wasn’t perfect, but he was dependable in the end. He was someone who others could lean on, not because he had all the answers, but because he knew where to find them.
I’ve tried to be that kind of presence in my own small way. I think of my wife, Abigail, and my daughters, and how I want to be the kind of man they can count on—not because I’ve got everything figured out, but because I’m willing to show up, day after day, and keep trying. I think of the people I’ve worked with over the years, who trusted me to help them navigate financial challenges or grow their businesses. I’m not the hero of those stories; I’m just someone who’s willing to walk alongside them, to offer what I can, and to point toward something greater.
From Fear to Faith
Peter’s journey was one from fear to faith. He started off as a man who acted on impulse, who often let fear get the best of him. But by the end of his life, he was willing to lay everything down for his faith. I’m still very much in that journey—still learning to let go of fear, still learning to trust. There’s a scene in the Gospels where Peter, after denying Jesus, locks eyes with Him across the courtyard. It’s a moment of heartbreak, but also one of profound love and forgiveness. Peter’s story after that moment is one of redemption—of letting love conquer the fear that had driven him before.
I’ve had my own courtyard moments—times where I’ve realized just how far I’ve fallen short, how I’ve let fear or pride or doubt steer the ship. But what I’ve learned, and what I think Peter would say if he were sitting here with us, is that those moments aren’t the end of the story. They’re the turning point. They’re where grace comes in, where you realize that it was never about being perfect—it was always about being willing to come back, to say yes again, even after you’ve said no.
A Life of Service
By the end of his life, Peter was a man who lived entirely for others—for the Church, for the people he was called to lead and serve. And I think that’s what I’m striving for too. I’m not there yet, and I might never fully get there, but the idea of a life poured out for others is something that inspires me. Whether it’s in my work, or in the way I try to show up for my family and community, I want my life to be about more than just me.
Peter didn’t end up a saint because he was perfect. He ended up a saint because he kept saying yes, even when it was hard, even when he’d gotten it wrong a hundred times before. He allowed God to use his brokenness, his doubts, his imperfections, and somehow, in all of that mess, something beautiful emerged. I think that’s what I’m hoping for, too. To take this life—with all its stumbles and wrong turns, all its high hopes and dashed plans—and let God do something with it that maybe, just maybe, makes the world a little better.
So, there it is—the real me, through the lens of St. Peter. Not perfect, not polished, but always trying, always hoping, always leaning on grace to get back up when I fall. If you stick around this blog, that’s what you’ll get—the honest ups and downs, the lessons learned the hard way, and maybe a glimpse of how, through it all, I’m trying to become the kind of man God knows I can be.
