It was May of 2020. I was trying — and failing — to build a consistent habit of praying the nightly examen, an examination of conscience rooted in centuries of Catholic tradition. I knew it was good for me. I kept not doing it.
I reached out to a priest friend for help. We found plenty of resources explaining how to pray an examen. What we couldn't find was the right tool — something short (I've got four kids), structured (I'm easily distracted), and accessible (I'm not a mystic). Something I could open at the end of a long day and actually use.
"I'm thinking that you'll have to create something."
So I did. After years of developing it, the Examination Journal was born — grounded in the wisdom of saints like St. Francis de Sales, St. Teresa of Avila, and St. Ignatius of Loyola, and carrying an Imprimatur from the Bishop of Allentown. I didn't invent anything. I just curated what the Church already knew and gave it a home on the page.
A few years later, my wife and I were teaching our oldest daughter how to pray as she prepared for her First Reconciliation. She'd come to us frustrated: "I just don't know what to say." One day she asked to use my Examination Journal. That moment made something obvious — kids needed their own version. The Little Prayer Journal came from that. Simple, structured, designed for the sacramental years and beyond.
As these tools came together, Pray on Paper had a name. The Pray on Paper Club joined the party in 2026 — a way of continuing to bring together the power of paper and prayer, adding beauty and depth, and building a community around slowing down and praying for one another.
Around the same time — 2019 — I read Cal Newport's Digital Minimalism and it had a big impact on my life. I became increasingly aware that my smartphone and I had a contentious relationship, one that had been rocky since I got my first one after college. I bought a Light Phone. I stopped using social media.
I found a kind of subcultural current of tools and companies that were not necessarily anti-technology, but more purposeful and thoughtful. Designed to help us be more present. Building room for a different kind of attention in a world increasingly hostile to it.
I felt like there was an opportunity to do the same thing for prayer.
Our prayer life deserves a space that isn't being intruded upon — not by algorithms, not by notifications, not by platforms engineered to keep you scrolling. A space that is quiet. Where you can speak to God and then actually listen.
That's what Pray on Paper is. Not an app. Not a platform. Just paper, pen, and the presence of God.
Keep praying,
Mark