From Ambition to Adoration

By Erick Macek

God’s grace is often clearest in hindsight. When I look back on my life, I can see how patiently and persistently He was drawing me to Himself, especially through Eucharistic Adoration.

I grew up in a devout Catholic family after my parents immigrated from Slovakia. The faith was strong in our home, but for me it felt more like something I had to do rather than something I got to do. Growing up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, toughness and grit were valued far more than vulnerability. Faith was personal, not something I spoke about openly.

Athletics defined much of my early life. I played soccer, ice hockey, and volleyball, even competing internationally as a Junior Olympic athlete. When injuries shifted my path, music became my new passion. That passion led me to California with big dreams of success. I found some of it — management deals, writing for Sony, national television appearances, even competing on The Voice. Yet despite the accolades, something was unsettled in my heart. I was chasing success but never arriving at peace.

When I moved to Los Angeles, I searched for the nearest Catholic church. Ironically, it was directly across the street from where I lived. After a few Masses, a quiet and persistent priest invited me to the parish young adult group. I hesitated. I thought I was fine. But I eventually said yes.

That simple yes changed everything.

For the first time, I realized how little I understood about my own faith. I began relearning what I believed. Central to our gatherings was Eucharistic Adoration. I had attended before, but now it became different. At first, my “holy hour” was really a holy half-hour filled with a list of things I wanted God to fix or provide. Slowly, however, Adoration shifted from talking to listening.

In 2015, our group began preparing for World Youth Day in Kraków. I had every excuse not to go — money, time, desire. The priest simply told me to trust. That year of preparation was transformative. I felt drawn more deeply to Adoration and Confession. It was as if an interior battle was unfolding in my heart. In the silence before the Eucharist, distractions and temptations surfaced, but so did clarity. I experienced profound moments of prayer that I cannot fully explain, only that they were real and deeply personal. In that silence, I began to understand that my true vocation was not fame, but family.

During one Adoration, while praying the Rosary and reflecting on the Holy Family, a deep conviction settled in my heart: I was called to be a husband and father.

As I was transitioning out of the young adult group, I met a woman who had just joined. Her name was Laura. She had also come to California pursuing her dreams. We met not in the entertainment industry, but in a church hall in North Hollywood. Our friendship grew, rooted in prayer and frequent visits to Adoration. From the beginning, we promised each other that God would remain at the center of our lives.

Today, Laura is my wife, and we are the parents of twin babies. They are miracles after years of fertility struggles. Through that cross, we learned again to bring everything to the Lord. Our twins are daily reminders of God’s providence — joyful, loud, and full of life.

Family life is beautiful and exhausting. We do not have it all figured out. But one thing remains constant: we run to Jesus. We bring our children to Mass, even when the pew becomes chaotic. We pray, even when it’s imperfect.

Eucharistic Adoration has been the thread woven through every stage of my life. From ambition and restlessness, to discernment, marriage, and fatherhood. In the silence before the Blessed Sacrament, I encountered not a distant God, but a personal Savior who knew my heart better than I did.

Adoration taught me to be still. It taught me to listen. It taught me that God’s plans are far greater than my own.

If there is one encouragement I can offer, it is this: make time to sit with Jesus. Not just to speak, but to listen. He has created each of us for a definite purpose. In the quiet presence of the Eucharist, He gently reveals who we truly are, and who we are meant to become.