This past week, I had the privilege of teaching lighting to the School of Photography students at YWAM Dunham. It wasn’t just another class on how to use studio gear—it was a week that reminded me why teaching is one of the deepest loves of my life.

There’s something sacred about standing in front of a group of young creatives and inviting them not just to learn but to see—to see light differently, to see people differently, and to see themselves differently.

Teaching Isn’t Just Transferring Skills

Yes, I taught them how to turn on studio lights, modify them with softboxes and grids, calculate exposure using ISO, light power, and distance, and set a custom white balance so their images are true to life.

But more than that, I taught them to think, to ask why, and to see photography not just as a craft but as a language—one that speaks identity, beauty, and truth.

The Journey Is Still in Progress

Throughout the week, I shared pieces of my journey. It’s not a finished story—far from it. Many of my dreams haven’t come true yet. But I’m not discouraged. I’m not 80 like Moses when God called him to lead. I still have time. And so do you.

I’ve worked in some challenging roles that didn’t feel glamorous or even meaningful at the time. But looking back, I see the “wax on, wax off” moments. Like in The Karate Kid, they were preparing me. God used repetition to build muscle memory for service, discipline, and endurance.

Learning to Communicate, Learning to Connect

We explored more than just lighting gear. I introduced them to communicators like Vanessa Van Edwards, who teaches how body language and presence are keys to influence. Her tips on how people present themselves in profile pictures aren’t just for self-branding—they’re tools for photographers to help others feel confident and seen.

And that’s what I’m always trying to do as a teacher: help people feel seen, not just for what they can do but for who they are.

Teaching Isn’t a One-Way Street

Most people don’t realize that I didn’t just come to serve—I came to be served, too. This week, the students gave me something. Each time I teach, I grow. I learn to communicate more clearly, listen more deeply, and love more fully.

I spent this week praying for each of them and talking with close friends about how I could show up better and make each student feel heard. When you “make teachers of those you meet,” you give them permission to step into their calling. You provide them with room to bring their gifts to life.

And when I get to do that—when I get to teach and serve—I feel the Holy Spirit most alive. That’s when the joy rushes in.

The Gift of Teaching

Teaching isn’t just one of the things I do. It’s one of my greatest loves because it brings me closer to people. Because it brings me closer to God. And because I know I’m doing what I was made to do in those moments.

So if you’re a creative, a student, a photographer, or a friend—remember this: you have something to give. And maybe, just maybe, part of your journey will be teaching others to see what they couldn’t before.

Thanks for letting me be part of your story. You’ve become a part of mine.

Photo by: Dennis Fahringer

Over the years, I’ve understood that I need more time to process things than many. This isn’t a flaw or a lack of interest—it’s just how my brain works. As someone on the autism spectrum, my mind is often very active, constantly interpreting and reinterpreting the world around me. That internal processing doesn’t stop when the conversation does. It frequently keeps going long after the moment has passed.

This has made me realize how important space and time are—not just for reflection but also for functioning well in life and work.

I’ve learned to ask questions professionally, especially when working with clients on creative projects. I want to understand, not just because I need to understand. I need to hear the story behind a project, the intention, and the feeling. When I ask questions, my brain slows down and actually absorbs what’s being asked of me. It gives me the space to deliver something thoughtful and meaningful in return.

Spontaneity doesn’t come easily for me. Quick responses, small talk, and unexpected changes can all be complex. But I’ve also learned that sometimes I must step into those moments and let them happen. It doesn’t always feel comfortable, and my reactions might not always be smooth or polished. But I’ve realized that if I ask others to give me grace and patience as I process things, I must do the same for them.

I’ve been working on that mutual understanding—that give-and-take —and honestly, it’s helped me grow as a professional and human being.

Understanding this about myself has changed how I approach life. I don’t expect to be spontaneous or instantly responsive. Instead, I value thoughtful interaction, deep listening, and intentional communication. It’s not always easy, but it’s honest. And it works for me.

As someone on the autism spectrum, I’ve learned that communication for me doesn’t always follow the expected rhythm.

Sometimes people wonder why I don’t answer right away — why I pause, why I think. But that pause is where the real work is happening. I’m not zoning out; I’m zoning in.

For many of us with autism, conversation is a full-body, full-brain experience. We’re taking in tone, expression, word choice, and social context, and sometimes translating it into mental pictures just to make sense of it.

I’ve come to see that this slower pace isn’t a flaw. It’s a different way of relating — one that’s often deeper, more honest, and more intentional.

If you’ve ever felt misunderstood in how you communicate — or if you’ve struggled to understand someone else’s pace — know that you’re not alone. There’s beauty in the pause.

Caption: Stanley Leary teaches studio lighting in the School of Photography in Kona, Hawaii. [photo by: Dennis Fahringer]

If you had told me years ago that I would be a professional communicator, I probably would have laughed—or panicked. Communication has never come easily, especially in social or visual contexts.

I identify as someone with Autism—specifically Asperger’s Syndrome, even though the term is no longer officially used. That means I don’t naturally read body language, facial expressions, or social subtext like most people do. I wasn’t born with the ability to understand what others are feeling or thinking instantly. And yet, here I am—teaching, creating, and helping others learn how to see and tell stories with light.

The path that led me here wasn’t paved with natural charisma or perfect social intuition. It was driven by something much more straightforward but far more powerful: curiosity.

Curiosity made me pick up a camera. It prompted me to ask, “What happens if I move the light this way?” or “Why does this image feel flat, and how can I make it more dynamic?” Curiosity allowed me to stay in the process long enough to improve, even when things felt uncomfortable or confusing.

As a photographer and visual storyteller, curiosity is more important than talent. Talent can help you start, but curiosity keeps you going. It asks better questions. It opens your eyes to details others overlook. It enables you to connect with your subject, not because you instantly understand them, but because you’re interested in understanding them.

I now teach studio and lighting in a missions training context, and one of the first things I tell my students is this: your success as a photographer doesn’t depend on how inspiring your teacher is. It depends on how curious you’re willing to be. That’s the truth.

You can learn lighting diagrams and camera settings from anyone. But developing an eye for story, a sense for timing, a heart that notices—those things grow when you stay curious, even when the work gets hard or the subject seems quiet.

Curiosity creates a breakthrough, makes space for wonder, and invites us to keep asking, keep seeking, and keep showing up with our eyes open.

So, if you’re starting in photography or feel like you’re hitting a creative wall, don’t look for a new trick. Start with a better question. Start with wonder. Let curiosity lead the way.

That’s where the real learning—and the real light—lives.

Caption: Straight from Tel Aviv to ATL, Israeli comedian Yohay Sponder brought the house down with his sharp, witty, and relatable humor! He was the headline act for Thursday Night Live, lighting up the stage for Federation’s Young Leadership Division (YLD) & AJC ACCESS Atlanta. An unforgettable night of laughs, community, and connection!

Not long ago, I got a call from fellow ASMP member Bob Mahoney. He was booked solid and had a client who needed coverage. Bob asked if I could help out, and of course, I said yes.

All my communication with the client made it clear: I was there to help because Bob was unavailable, not to poach or promote myself. I honored Bob’s pricing with them and ensured the job was seamless. Bob’s client got what they needed, and Bob had peace of mind knowing someone he trusted was taking care of things.

This kind of collaboration isn’t new to me. Over the years, I’ve helped other photographers when they’ve been overbooked or unavailable and called on others when I’ve needed the same.

This professional courtesy fosters strong relationships, helps satisfy clients, and enhances our industry when appropriately handled.

So if you’re a photographer who might need help, or you’re someone willing to help out, here’s a quick guide to the Dos and Don’ts of subbing or referring work:

✅ To Do When Helping Out Another Photographer

1. Communicate Clearly With the Client
   • Let the client know you’re stepping in on behalf of the original photographer.
   • Make sure the expectations are consistent with the original agreement.
2. Honor Their Pricing
   • Respect the pricing and terms your colleague offered—this keeps trust strong.
3. Stay in Your Lane
   • Please refrain from using the job to market yourself to their client.
   • Keep branding and communication focused on supporting your colleague.
4. Follow Their Style (If Applicable)
   • Ask about any stylistic preferences the client expects based on past work.
5. Deliver Promptly and Professionally
   • Meet or exceed the standard your colleague would provide. It reflects on both of you.
6. Debrief
   • Follow up with the photographer you helped. Share how it went and any notes for the future.

❌ What Not to Do

1. Don’t Undercut Pricing
   • Offering a lower rate than your colleague may win short-term jobs, but it breaks long-term trust.
2. Don’t Pitch Yourself to Their Client
   • It’s unethical and damages your reputation with other photographers.
3. Don’t Overpromise
   • Take only what you can truly handle. Helping out is good—burning out or underdelivering is not.
4. Don’t Skip Communication
   • Keep the client and the photographer informed before, during, and after the job.
5. Don’t Forget Copyright/Usage Agreements
   • Ensure you’re aligned with your colleague about who owns the work and how it can be used.

Whether you’re helping someone or needing help, these principles ensure a positive experience for everyone, especially the client. Ultimately, it’s all about professionalism, integrity, and lifting one another in this industry.

I’m grateful to photographers like Bob Mahoney who trust me with their clients, and I’m always looking for ways to return the favor.

Have you ever helped or been helped by another photographer? I’d love to hear your stories.

This morning, I made a simple mistake in Quicken—one of those errors where you realize it just a second too late. I had to pull out the Time Machine backup, go back a few days, and restore the Quicken file. It worked, but I was drained afterward—way more than I expected. It was like the smallest thing completely zapped my energy.

If you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken.

Stress Doesn’t Always Announce Itself Loudly

Sometimes, stress doesn’t come from panic attacks or big emotional outbursts. It’s quieter. Subtler. It might show up like this:

• You feel exhausted after a basic task.
• You’re foggy-headed, but not sure why.
• You’re spending hours at the computer and still feel behind.
• You lose your patience faster, even with yourself.
• Your motivation feels buried under a fog of “meh.”

These can all be signs of burnout, especially when your regular rhythms are out of sync.

A big part of this was realizing how much I miss being out in the field—telling stories with my camera, not just behind a screen. I’ve spent years helping nonprofits and businesses craft their message visually, and when that rhythm slows down, it hits hard.

You’re Not the Only One

I’m learning — and maybe you are too — that this experience isn’t unique.

I talk to other creatives, nonprofit workers, small business owners… and there’s a theme: work has changed, pace has shifted, and many are left wondering, “Is it just me? Did I do something wrong?”

It’s not just you. These kinds of dry seasons can happen to anyone, and their weight adds up if we try to push through without processing them.

So What Can We Do About It?

Here are a few things I’ve been doing (and recommending) that help me move forward — slowly, intentionally, and with hope:

1. Check in with yourself like you would a friend

You’d never tell a tired friend, “Well, just try harder.” So give yourself the same grace. Ask:

• What do I need right now — rest, movement, connection?
• Am I operating out of fear or purpose?

2. Reconnect with people who already know your value

Instead of chasing new leads, I’ve started reaching out to past clients. Just checking in, reminding them I’m here, and seeing how they’re doing. These are the relationships where trust is already built.

3. Create small, clear offers

Sometimes people don’t hire you because they don’t know how to. I’ve been working on packaging things more clearly — story-driven videos, photo sessions, or even consulting. That way, it’s easy to say yes when someone is ready.

4. Share your own story

This post is part of me practicing what I preach. Vulnerability creates connection — sometimes, that opens the next door.

5. Rest isn’t optional — it’s fuel

Resting doesn’t mean you’re giving up. It means you’re smart enough to know you can’t run on empty. I’m learning this the hard way, but I’m learning it.

If you’re in a season like this, I see you. And if you want to talk through ideas, get perspective, or just hear, “No, you’re not crazy,” — I’m around.

We’re all storytelling through seasons. This happens to be one of mine. Thanks for being part of the journey.

Photo Caption: David and Tami Woods are beginning a new chapter in Bobo, Burkina Faso—and they’re not doing it alone. As they moved into their new home, they were welcomed by homeowner M. Augustus Dembele (blue boubou) and supported by local friends who helped unload the truck: Karim Illa (brown boubou), Abraham Tankoano (checkered shirt), Colette Dembele (blue jean dress), and Ejemeba Dembele (brown top). This move isn’t just about a new house—it’s about building relationships and walking together in community.

Editorial Note Update
After receiving thoughtful feedback, I want to clarify a distinction that wasn’t fully expressed in the original post. While the missionary I referenced continues to serve where the Gospel is needed, context matters: there’s a big difference between serving in regions where 70% or more of the population identifies as Christian and serving where less than 2% have meaningful access to Jesus. In the latter, many people may never have the opportunity to hear or understand who He is. That nuance is crucial in how we discuss missions—and why word choice truly matters.

If you’ve been around faith-based nonprofits or international ministry work, you’ve likely heard:

“I’m heading to Africa as a missionary.”

Here’s the thing: many countries people “go to” today—Nigeria, Kenya, Ethiopia, for example—have vibrant, growing churches and even send missionaries to Europe, North America, and other regions.

So when we continue using outdated words like “missions” or “missionary,” it can unintentionally send the wrong message. Even with the best intentions, it can sound like we’re arriving to fix or lead, rather than joining and supporting a thriving local church. These words carry the weight of colonial-era ministry—one-way help, top-down control, and a posture that doesn’t reflect today’s reality.

Our language needs to evolve with our purpose.

Most global work today isn’t about proselytizing. It’s about partnership. It’s about equipping, learning, building capacity, and being invited into what local churches are already doing.

That means it’s time to choose words that reflect mutuality and humility, such as:

• “Cross-cultural partnership”
• “Global service”
• “Faith-based collaboration”
• “Supporting local leaders”

Or state what you do:

“I help train media teams in Uganda.”

We’re not just changing labels—we’re telling better stories.

As a visual storyteller and brand consultant, I’ve seen how a single word can shape the perception of an entire mission. The language we use becomes the lens through which people see our work. That’s why this shift matters.

It’s not about semantics.
It’s about truth.
It’s about respect.
It’s about showing up in ways that honor the people we serve, not just the work we do.

If you serve, support, or send people into cross-cultural ministry, consider how you communicate the “why” and “how” of that work. Clear, authentic language builds trust, strengthens relationships, and amplifies impact.

I’d love to hear your thoughts—drop a comment or send me a message.

Ministry vs. Missions: Understanding the Church’s Two Fronts

Ministry
Ministry is any act of service done in the name of Christ, often within the local church or Christian community. It’s the day-to-day expression of faith: serving others, teaching, leading worship, counseling, discipling, or running programs like youth groups or food banks. Ministry focuses on building up the body of Christ—believers—and supporting the local church.

Example: Leading a Bible study, organizing church events, or serving as a pastor.

Missions
Missions is about going beyond your immediate cultural or geographic context to share the gospel with people who haven’t yet heard or understood Jesus, especially those with little to no access to Him. It often involves cross-cultural work, evangelism, church planting, and discipleship.

Example: A missionary serving an unreached tribe in Southeast Asia—or planting a church in a spiritually underserved area of a Western country—is engaged in missions.

The Core Difference:

• Ministry: Focused within the church or to those already exposed to the gospel.
• Missions: Focused on reaching beyond the church, often cross-culturally, to those who have not heard the gospel.