I learnt about Joe Schmid’s conversion to Catholicism while standing in line for confession. The news distracted me from my examination of conscience as I frantically texted a friend asking whether it could possibly be true. Were they quite certain that this wasn’t an AI hoax, or some elaborate prank? 

Upon being reassured that the story was real, I was overcome with emotion. While I hadn’t followed Schmid’s work all too closely, I knew enough about him to feel intimidated by his extraordinary intellect. Having grown up Catholic, Schmid became an atheist in high school before eventually reverting to a cautious agnosticism. By the age of 21, he was already publishing peer-reviewed academic articles with titles like “Existential inertia and the Aristotelian proof”.

Since then, Schmid has continued to produce an extraordinary number of scholarly papers, and he is currently pursuing a PhD in philosophy at Princeton University. Meanwhile, his popular philosophy content on his YouTube channel Majesty of Reason has been viewed over 2 million times. Prior to his conversion, his most popular video was a 12-hour presentation titled “Over 100 Arguments for God ANSWERED”. 

All of this flowed through my mind as I stood waiting for confession and for the Mass that followed. As a cradle Catholic, I find it all too easy to take the sacraments for granted. More often than I care to admit, the liturgy leaves me feeling bored, and I struggle at times to believe in the miracle that is taking place on the altar. Yet here I was confronted with the case of a young man around the same age as me, with a mind far superior to my own, who had decided in 2026 that the most rational course of action was to embrace Christ and His Church. 

In subsequent interviews, Schmid has explained that this was not an easy course for him to take. Intellectually, he wrestled with the problem of evil, difficult passages in the Old Testament, and the seeming injustice of the traditional doctrine of hell. Whereas liberal strands of Christianity could at least offer him some wiggle room on the latter two issues, Catholicism made no such concessions. At the same time, the Catholic Church provides a rigorous set of sexual teachings which Schmid found both morally and personally objectionable. As he freely admitted, if Catholicism were true, then he would be forced to reform his life. And he didn’t want to do that. 

But if Schmid disliked the idea of embracing Catholicism, he disliked even more the idea of not walking in the truth. Like Socrates in The Republic, Schmid has long been committed to following the arguments wherever they lead. As he explained in his interview with Matt Fradd, “I’ve sort of gone on this quest my whole life . . . my whole life’s mission really has been to try to find out whether God exists.”

The details of Schmid’s conversion story showcase the seriousness with which he undertook that quest for truth. Every night during his agnostic years he would offer conditional prayers to God: “Lord, if you are there, please help me find you”. To do otherwise, Schmid argued, would be the height of irrationality. The person stranded on a desert island ought to continue shooting flares into the sky even when he is unsure whether they are being seen by anybody. 

Meanwhile, Schmid continued to engage openly and sincerely with his Christian friends who pressed him to explore the evidence for miraculous phenomena. Instead of rejecting such supernatural claims outright, Schmid took the time to investigate them thoroughly. He consumed the available literature, interviewed experts, and spent hours debating the evidence with his friends. 

In time, Schmid became convinced of the truth of theism. Here the argument from psychophysical harmony advanced by Notre Dame philosophy professor Brian Cutter provided the clincher. After encountering this argument, Schmid concluded that it was no longer possible to live as an intellectually fulfilled agnostic. The converging lines of evidence for God were simply too varied and forceful to be the result of some spectacular cosmic fluke. At the bottom of reality, Schmid reasoned, there must be a single, maximally perfect being who is the source of all creaturely existence. As he told Fradd, “That’s a very simple hypothesis, very uniform, very elegant.”

Having become a believer in God, Schmid now set about trying to determine which (if any) of the world’s religious traditions is the true one. He gradually found himself drawn to Christianity, not only because it boasts far more documented miracle cases than any other religious tradition, but also because of the person of Christ as presented in the Gospels. There was something about this figure who speaks with such authority, mingled with compassion, that Schmid felt he could not ignore.

But which branch of Christianity should he pick? With growing discomfort, Schmid realised that it was specifically Catholicism which possesses a level of miraculous attestation totally unparalleled in other Christian denominations. Our Lady of Lourdes. The miracle of the sun. Eucharistic miracles. St Padre Pio and the stigmata. As he explored case after case, Schmid eventually discovered he could no longer avoid the conclusion that Catholicism is true. And so, on the evening of Friday, February 6, 2026, he accepted the authority of Christ’s Church and examined his conscience. The next day he went to confession for the first time in ten years. 

There is much to admire in Schmid’s spiritual odyssey, not least his remarkable sincerity of heart. Accompanying this sincerity has been a profound intellectual humility which allowed Schmid to admit that he’d spent the last ten years of his life publicly defending an erroneous worldview. It was that same humble spirit which enabled him to make conditional prayers for guidance, to engage in honest dialogue with his Christian friends, and ultimately to surrender the various intellectual and emotional obstacles that kept him from Catholicism. 

In interviews, Schmid has shared that as he drew closer to returning to the Catholic Church, there were moments when he felt God’s presence in a tangible way. He would be sitting in the gym when, without hearing any audible words, he felt an inner voice convicting him of his sin while simultaneously affirming: “I could be a saint, I could be a saint, I could be a saint”. No doubt Schmid was aided in this conviction by the various canonised saints whom he credits as inspiring him in his journey towards Rome. Among these are Padre Pio, Maria Goretti, Maximilian Kolbe, Damien of Molokai, and above all Our Blessed Mother.

I have reflected previously on the fact that no saint is an island. This truism is borne out in Schmid’s own story, not only in his newfound friendships with the saints in heaven, but also in his relationships with members of Christ’s Body here on earth. Indeed, one of the most beautiful elements in Schmid’s conversion is the way in which his coming to Christ was facilitated by his friendships with Catholic apologists such as Cameron Bertuzzi, Ethan Muse, and Suan Sonna. 

There is a lesson here for all of us. Bringing souls to Christ includes mastering the relevant arguments, so that we may heed Scripture’s injunction to “always be prepared to make a defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you” (1 Pet 3:15). But the second half of St Peter’s instruction—“yet do it with gentleness and reverence”—is a reminder that our fostering of holy friendships is no less essential. 

As Schmid’s own story reveals, even the most compelling arguments are rarely decisive unless accompanied by the witness of one’s life. Hence if we wish to welcome souls home in the Catholic Church, then we must be prepared not only to defend the truth, but to walk alongside those who are seeking it.