I was 19 years old, a hippie and pretty much a socialist.
I was wandering and wondering.
During that season, God did what I call a “God thing.” He grabbed my attention and set me on a path toward Mexico.
I would spend the rest of my life there.
Apparently, I Was Going to Virginia
I was visiting a commune in eastern Canada when I realized something was missing in my life.
So I began to search.
A friend at the commune said, “Marcos, we have some friends you would really like in Virginia: the Murray family.”
I thanked him but explained that I was not going to Virginia.
Instead, I traveled 500 miles west to Toronto. I planned to spend one night with some people I knew.
They were not really friends. They were more like acquaintances.
They were the kind of people with whom it might be acceptable to stay for exactly one night.
That evening, a woman told me, “Marcos, we have some friends you really ought to meet: the Murray family in Virginia.”
“Wow, what a coincidence!” I thought as I so profoundly grasped the obvious.
But no, I still was not going to Virginia.
Instead, I traveled even farther west. I crossed into the United States and headed toward another commune in Wisconsin.
About three or four days into my stay, a friend offered another helpful suggestion.
“Mark, we have some friends you would really dig. The Murray family lives in Virginia. You ought to meet them.”
Even in my empty state, I had enough sense to realize that God wanted me to visit the Murray family.
So I stuck out my thumb and headed toward Virginia.
From Virginia to a Mexican Orphanage
The Murrays lived on a commune in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
You could not ask for a more beautiful place.
They were “groovy,” and the place was “far out.”
However, everything came together when the father told me about his daughter.
She worked at an orphanage in Tijuana, Mexico.
When I heard the words “orphanage in Tijuana,” it was as though lightning had shot across the sky.
I knew why God wanted me to meet the Murray family.
Once again, I put my thumb to work and hitchhiked toward Tijuana.
I arrived on a cold March day in 1974.
I spoke no Spanish and spent my first night on the streets.
I wandered into the red-light district and slept for a few hours in the back of a firetruck.
I was lost.
Believe it or not, I found the Mexican orphanage the next day.
Although the staff knew I was coming, they were not prepared for me.
In walked an Afro-topped, scrubby and not-recently-bathed product of the ’60s.
I looked like a cross between Bob Dylan and Keith Green.
I had never heard the gospel in all my 19 years.
These people were weirdos.
They were not boycotting lettuce. They were not protesting wars. They were not impeaching presidents.
Clearly, they had nothing to teach me.
Taking the Risk
For six weeks, Juan, the orphanage director, shared Christ with me.
He told me about heaven and hell. Talk about old-fashioned.
He also explained sin, repentance, justification and salvation.
Nope.
None of it made sense, and I remained unimpressed.
Then one night, which happened to be Good Friday, Juan told me that Jesus wanted to live in my heart.
“Wow! Can you believe that?” I thought.
I had never heard anything quite so cool.
Perhaps it was too good to believe.
However, it also seemed too good to pass up in case it was true.
I took the risk.
My life changed that night.
I was born in Boston, but I was born again on the mission field.
Becoming a missionary was a fairly natural process.
After all, I was already on the field.
Pastor Von discipled me.
Although he lived in San Diego, he regularly traveled to Tijuana. He ministered to people experiencing poverty and children living in orphanages.
Von was mostly about missions.
It was what I learned from him, and it was what I saw in Scripture.
Finding a Life in Mexico
My wife, Veronica, who is from Minnesota, served on staff at that same orphanage.
She was not exactly swept off her feet by Bob Keith Dylan Green.
But soon afterward she, read: I, saw the light.
A year and a half later, we were married.
Our three biological children were born during our years in Tijuana.
In 1981, we founded Olive Tree Ministry.
Then we moved two hours south to Porvenir.
We were young and full of faith.
Now we are a little older, but we are even more full of faith.
And why not?
God has proved himself faithful and awesome time and time again.
About the contributor: Marcos Schultz co-founded Olive Tree Ministry with his wife, Veronica, in 1981. The two met and married while serving at a boys’ orphanage in Tijuana, Mexico. Their ministry in Porvenir has included youth outreach, local church leadership and welcoming children into their family.