From Radio Waves to Real Purpose: How a VP of Membership Found Peace by Surrendering the Script

Forty years is a long time to build a career. It's long enough to know every corner of an industry, to earn the respect of peers, and to believe — reasonably — that this is where you'll finish. For the Vice President of Membership at the Chamber, that industry was radio. And then, one day, it wasn't enough anymore.

Not because the work dried up. Not because the opportunities disappeared. But because the culture had shifted in a direction his faith simply couldn't follow.

"The company's philosophy was 'hire fast, fire faster,'" he recalls. "And no — these are people's livelihoods we're messing with." That single realization became the turning point that would redirect the next chapter of his life entirely.

Walking Away From the Spotlight

In broadcasting, you are the brand. The spotlight finds you whether you want it or not. But somewhere in four decades of microphones and market share, something more essential was getting crowded out. When the culture of his employer made it clear that productivity trumped people, he did something most wouldn't dare: he picked up the phone and called the CEO of the local Chamber of Commerce.

Her response? "I don't think I can afford you."

His answer said everything about where his head — and his heart — had landed. "I'm really not very happy," he told her, "so where are we at?" He took a significant pay cut. He has never looked back.

"I'm not selling anything to anybody. I'm telling our story. And then I let people use the free choice that God gave us to decide whether it's right for them or not. No pressure, no stress — I totally enjoy what I'm doing."

The parallel he draws is quietly profound. The apostles didn't strong-arm anyone. They shared a message, and people responded according to their own free will. He sees his role at the Chamber through exactly that lens — a storyteller, not a closer. A guide, not a gatekeeper.

Faith That Wears a Name Tag

Living faith in the workplace doesn't always look like a Bible study in the break room. Sometimes it looks like four words: "Have a blessed day."

He is candid about the cultural pressure that pushes Christian professionals to keep their beliefs quiet. "We live in a country where the majority is not seen as the majority anymore," he says. "Hate sells better than love." But rather than retreat into neutrality, he leans in — warmly, consistently, without apology.

He's noticed something encouraging in recent years: "Merry Christmas was almost gone. Everything was Happy Holidays. But I've seen a lot more Merry Christmases lately. I think it's just showing honor and respect." Small words, he'll tell you, carry more weight than we realize.

He's equally direct about personal brand — a concept he champions in the Chamber's B2B groups. "I'm not afraid that being a Christian, being a Catholic is part of my brand. It's part of who I am. And I'm not going to apologize for that." His challenge to other leaders is blunt: it's not enough to claim a brand. You have to live it, display it, and hold yourself accountable to it. Otherwise, as he puts it, "it's just words."

The Prayer Before the Conversation

When asked how faith shapes his daily decisions, he doesn't offer a polished framework. He offers a prayer.

"I say multiple times every single day: 'Help me, Holy Spirit — that I say the right things, that I do the right things.' Doing the right thing is typically not the easiest thing to do."

That prayer has been tested. Not long ago, an opportunity surfaced to re-enter the radio industry — this time with a significant income increase attached. The answer was still no. "I couldn't be me," he explains simply. His presentation at a recent One Million Cups event hit the same theme: so much of our early careers are spent performing for others, chasing approval, trying to become someone the world will accept. "You're never going to win that game," he says. "Whenever you think you've hit the mark, they move the mark."

The legacy he's building instead is measured not in salary or titles but in a single word: integrity. "I say what I'm going to do, and then I do it."

The Advice Corporate America Isn't Giving Young Professionals

He has a pointed critique for how companies onboard emerging talent — and a practical alternative. "You go to work for a company, you learn their elevator pitch, you learn their brand. But corporate America is making a huge mistake by not helping young people first develop their own personal brand."

The logic is sound and the stakes are real. A professional who knows who they are — and why — isn't going to silently endure a culture that conflicts with their values. They won't compromise their faith just to keep a job. And paradoxically, companies that make room for people to show up as themselves become more magnetic, not less.

"No matter what you do in life, somebody else does it," he says. "The only differentiator is the person." He drives the point home with a question that cuts through any illusion about what we're really accumulating: "Have you ever seen a U-Haul following a hearse?" God wants us to be successful and to enjoy good things, he's quick to affirm — but never at the cost of putting those things ahead of the One who gave them.

Surrender Isn't Weakness — It's the Beginning

If there is one thread running through his entire story — the career pivot, the daily prayers, the rejected offer, the servant-hearted networking — it is surrender. Not passive resignation, but active, trusting release.

"The day that I said, 'Jesus, I surrender this to you — take care of it' is the day I started feeling the true peace that God offers to all of us. You can't say 'Jesus, take care of it' and then try to point him in the direction you want to go. You have to follow his lead."

He does a Surrender Novena every morning. He acknowledges it's often scary, rarely immediately clear, and almost always worth it. "The only way you really feel peace," he says, "is when you say, 'I can't do it on my own. There's got to be a greater being.'"

For anyone who has never tried it, his invitation is simple and direct: try it.

What Monday Morning Looks Like

This isn't a story about a dramatic mountaintop experience. It's a story about the accumulation of small, daily choices — a greeting, a morning prayer, a phone call made with more faith than certainty. It's about walking into a networking event and asking "What can I do for you?" instead of "What can I get from this?"

Servant leadership and authentic faith aren't separate strategies. They are, it turns out, the same posture.

So here's the question worth sitting with this week: Where are you still trying to meet a mark that someone else keeps moving? And what would it look like — starting Monday morning — to simply ask the Holy Spirit to lead instead?