I was 19 years old, a hippie, and pretty much a socialist. I was wandering and wondering. It was during this time of my life that God did what I call a “God-thing” in order to grab my attention and to set me on a path towards Mexico… where I would spend the rest of my life.
I was visiting a commune in eastern Canada, when I realized that something was missing in my life and I began to actively search. A friend at the commune had mentioned to me, “Marcos, we have some friends you would really like in Virginia… The Murray family.” I had thanked him but let him know that I wasn’t going to Virginia.
Instead, I traveled 500 miles west to Toronto, Canada, in order to spend just one night with some folks. They weren’t really friends, more like acquaintances. The kind where it might be acceptable to stay just one night. That evening, a lady there told me, “Marcos, we have some friends you really ought to go meet… the Murray family… in Virginia.”
“Wow, what a coincidence!” I thought to myself as I so profoundly grasped the obvious.
But no, I wasn’t going to go to Virginia. Instead, I traveled further even west. I crossed the border into the United States and headed towards yet another commune, this time in Wisconsin. It was about three or four days into my stay there, when a friend helpfully suggested, “Mark, we have some friends you would really dig, the Murray family… They live in Virginia. You ought to go meet them.”
Even in my empty state, I had the wherewithal to realize this was God who had wanted me to go and visit the Murray family. So I stuck out my thumb and headed towards Virginia.
The Murrays lived on a commune in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. You couldn’t ask for a more beautiful place. They were “groovy” and the place was “far out”, but it wasn’t until the dad told me about his daughter who worked at an orphanage in Tijuana, Mexico, that it all came together.
When I heard the words “orphanage in Tijuana” it was as if lightening had shot across the sky… I knew that is why God had wanted me to meet the Murray family.
So I once again, I utilized my thumb and hitchhiked to Tijuana. I arrived on a cold March day in 1974. I spoke no Spanish, and spent the first night in the streets, stumbling into the red-light district, and sleeping a few hours in the back of fire truck. I was lost.
Believe it or not, the next day I found the orphanage I had learned about while I was in Virginia. Although they were expecting me, they were in no way prepared for me. In walks this afro-top scrubby, not-recently-bathed, product of the 60s, looking like a cross between Bob Dylan and Keith Green.
I had never heard the Gospel in all my 19 years, and these folks were weirdos. They were not boycotting lettuce, they were not protesting wars, and they were not impeaching presidents. They had nothing to teach me!
For six weeks Juan, the director of the orphanage, shared Christ with me. He told me about heaven and hell (talk about old fashioned), sin and repentance, justification and salvation. Nope, none of that made sense—and I was unimpressed.
Then, one night, which also happened to be Good Friday, Juan mentioned that Jesus wanted to live in my heart. “Wow! Can you believe that?” I thought to myself. I had never heard anything quite so cool. Perhaps it was too good to believe, but also too good to pass up in case it were 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 rather natural process. In fact, I was already on the field. I was discipled by Pastor Von, who although based in San Diego, was coming regularly into Tijuana to minister to the poor and orphans. Von was mostly about missions. It’s what I learned, and it is what I saw in the scriptures as well.
My wife Veronica (who is from Minnesota) was on staff at that same orphanage. She wasn’t exactly swept off her feet by Bob Keith Dylan Green, but soon after she (read: I) saw the light!
A year and a half later, we were married! Our three biological children were born during our years spent in Tijuana. In 1981 we founded Olive Tree Ministry and moved two hours south into Porvenir. We were young and full of faith.
Now we are a little bit older, but we are even more full of faith! And why not? God has proved Himself faithful and awesome time and time again!