I was born and raised in Totowa, a small town, just 4.1 square miles in northern New Jersey, where my early years were filled with love, family, and the simple joys of childhood. But everything changed when I was ten years old. On a cold and snowy Friday night in February, my dad passed away suddenly from a heart attack, and life as I knew it was shattered. The man I looked up to, the one who I thought would always be there, was gone in an instant.

At ten, you don’t have the tools to process something so life-altering. I didn’t know how to grieve, how to heal, or how to even talk about what I was feeling. All I knew was that something in me felt broken, and as I grew older, that brokenness didn’t go away—it grew. I carried that pain like a heavy weight on my chest. It shaped the way I saw myself, the world, and even God.

Depression and anxiety became constant companions, though I didn’t know what to call them back then. I just knew I felt empty, overwhelmed, and disconnected. As a teenager and young adult, I turned to things I thought might dull the pain. It started with distractions, but over time, those distractions became addictions. I thought I was in control, but the truth was, I was spiraling. For years, I buried my grief, ignored my struggles, and lived with an ache I couldn’t explain.

Eventually, I hit a breaking point. The weight of it all—grief, anxiety, addiction—was too much. I remember feeling like I had no way out. I was ready to give up entirely. I was convinced the world would be better off without me.

And then, in the middle of my darkest moment, my mom was diagnosed with stage four brain cancer. It was devastating news, and yet it became the turning point of my life. My mom’s faith had always been there, quietly in the background, but during her illness, it became impossible to ignore. She faced every treatment, every challenge, every uncertain moment with a strength that didn’t come from herself. It came from God.

Watching her live out her faith in the midst of such suffering did something to me. It cracked open my heart in a way nothing else ever had. For the first time, I began to wonder if God could be real—not as some distant, vague idea that you learned to fear, but as someone who cared, who saw me, and who might have something more for my life.

It wasn’t like the clouds parted and everything changed in a day. It was slow. But I felt a change in my soul, in my heart, and in my mind. I started reading the Bible—not because I had all the answers, but because I was desperate for them. I went to church, where I found people who didn’t just preach about love but lived it out. I started praying, even though I wasn’t always sure what to say.

And in the midst of all that searching, I began to feel something I hadn’t felt in years: hope.

When my mom passed away, it was the hardest thing I’d ever faced. But this time, I wasn’t facing it alone. That seed of faith that had been planted during her illness had started to grow. It didn’t take away the pain, but it gave me strength to keep moving forward. It gave me a reason to believe that my story wasn’t over.

Since then, my life has been a journey of healing and redemption. God didn’t just pull me out of the darkness; He gave me a purpose. My brokenness became the foundation for everything I do now. I write songs that tell the raw, honest truth about life and faith. I create resources that help others connect with God in their own struggles. I lead ministries that serve people who feel lost, overlooked, or overwhelmed.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re too far gone, like the weight of your mistakes is too heavy to carry. But I also know the power of God’s grace to take that weight and turn it into something beautiful.

Today, I wear many hats—musician, writer, volunteer firefighter, content creator—but at the core of it all, I’m just a guy who’s been saved by grace. I’m here because I want others to know that same grace. I want to remind people that no matter how broken or messy your story is, it’s never beyond redemption.

If you’re reading this and you feel lost, broken, or like your story doesn’t matter, I want you to know this: You’re not alone. There’s hope. There’s a God who sees you, loves you, and has a purpose for your life. I’m living proof that no matter how dark it gets, there’s always a light waiting to guide you home.

This is why I do what I do. My music, my writing, my ministries—they’re all just tools to share that light. Because if my story can help even one person find hope, then it’s all worth it.