T H E   C O N V E R S  I O N

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M A R K   S T A N L E I G H   M O R R I S

Some interesting statistics recently made the rounds in Christendom. Did you know only twenty percent of believers, just one out of five, accepts Christ as their personal Lord and Savior after the age of 21? Ten percent report a “special event” as a turning point in their journey toward faith. A rare one percent of believers report that a “special situation” led them to conversion. We’re not certain what “special event” or “special situation” means, but Mark Stanleigh Morris has a special story to share about an incredible miracle that changed his life...at the age of 48.

First, let us give you a glimpse into Mark’s background. Mark was born in Southern California in 1951. He was a rather shy, introspective kid who loved baseball, poetry, music and animals. His mother and father were agnostic, though Mark did have some religious influences. His maternal grandmother was a churchgoer, and a close family friend was a bible carrying believer. Mark and his brothers were allowed to attend Sunday school at a neighborhood church, although neither   parent attended church services with the boys. Meager though they were, these early Christian influences did impart a trace of spirituality in Mark. However, God’s plan for his life would first require a lengthy journey through the desert.

Tragedy struck in 1964 when Mark’s youngest brother, John, died of leukemia. John’s passing devastated the family and Mark’s parents divorced the following year. The impact of death and divorce hit the two surviving brothers hard. “Things were never the same after that,” Mark remembers. “We dealt with our losses as best we could, but not long after John’s death I began to slide in the wrong direction.” What followed can aptly be described as a long, downward spiral into dysfunction and chaos. It was the wild 1960’s. Mark was a teenager living with a mother who did the best she could. But absent the regular discipline and mentorship of a father, Mark floundered.

The temptations of the world are powerful and Mark took the bait...hook, line and sinker. What transpired was not good—substance abuse, promiscuity, close calls with the law, and a whole lot of spiritual darkness. As the older brother, and perhaps the one with the best chance to set a good example, Mark found himself burdened by feelings of guilt and failure. “In the back of my troubled mind I felt responsible for my brother’s death and the disintegration of my family. I struggled with feelings of self-doubt and blame. I thought that if I had been a better kid, more of a leader, then maybe none of the bad things would have happened. I always wished that I had stepped up more for myself and my surviving brother.”

Not everything was bad. In the intervening years Mark managed to move forward with his life. God blessed him with two wonderful daughters, and later a terrific stepson. He was a hard worker, and there were professional, artistic and financial accomplishments. Mark excelled and was rewarded by a culture that values highly competitive men. For more than twenty years he aggressively pursued the praises of world, never finding lasting relief from the ache in his soul. Winning in the shell game of life only deepened the chasm that separated him from an allusive peace. On the whole, his life had become a repetition of a dismal family legacy.

Thoreau said, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with a song still in them.” For a long time Mark didn’t realize how much his life was a hopeless continuum of quiet desperation. He was on auto-pilot and determined not to land where old ghosts lingered. Lacking a spiritual compass, he aimlessly partook of the trappings of the world. Meanwhile, old fears rumbled like thunder in the distance and sometimes he would lie awake at night and wish that the merry-go-round would stop. If only he could somehow break the hold of his dark history.

Somewhere in his late 30’s, things that Mark had kept locked in the dungeon of his heart began to tap messages from deep inside. Childhood stuff and other regrets began to boil up from that place he did not want to revisit. He needed to talk, but wouldn’t. He needed to confess, but couldn’t. Most of all, his soul yearned to know forgiveness. At some point along the way Mark began to write about his feelings. It started with random thoughts scribbled on pieces of scrap paper. Occasionally, he jotted notes in a journal upon waking from a dream. After a while, he got into the habit of carrying a spiral notebook. By 1989, what began as a half-hearted attempt at self-analysis evolved into a goal to become a professional writer. And God revealed the first twinkling of His ultimate plan and purpose for Mark’s life.

As a kid, Mark was an avid reader. He found escape in the novels of Jack London, Earl Stanley Gardner and Ian Fleming. He identified with the pathos, suffering and heroism of characters portrayed in the headier works of Wallace Stegner, John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway. But he credits one particular book for triggering his fascination with the written word, The Good Earth, by Pearl S. Buck. Buck wrote about circumstances so different yet so similar to his own. He was mesmerized. And his penchant for good books carried into his adult life.

One day, after reading halfway through a bestselling novel of the day, he set the book aside in disgust. “Even I could write a book this bad!” he complained to his wife. Used to his ranting about the mediocrity of a lot of commercial fiction, Mark’s wife challenged him to put his imagination where his mouth was. And thus, in a sort of upside down and backwards way, Mark was inspired to begin work on his first novel. This should be easy, he thought. All you need is a pencil and a little creativity. Well, it wasn’t easy. But something wonderful began to stir in him. For the first time in his life he dared to dip his toe in the deep reservoir of his past. The writing was cathartic and freeing, and he soon discovered that words written from the heart magically convey the power of truth. God revealed a few more twinkles, and Mark began to contemplate a full-time commitment to the craft.

In 1990, Mark moved his family from Southern California to Lake Tahoe, high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of Northern California. There he dedicated himself to a regimen of study and writing, including an in-depth look into the business side of the profession. “I approached it like I was starting a new company. I made a plan, set goals, acquired my first computer, and went to work believing it would take five years to polish my skills and learn the business of writing.” Mark joined writers groups, attended critique sessions and conferences, helped organize workshops, even worked several years as a part-time clerk in a bookshop learning the retail aspects of the trade. “It was like going back to college to earn a new degree. But this time I was motivated by passion.”

By 1994, Mark was well into his third novel. His skills and creativity were improving. An agent had recognized his talent and was now representing him. And publishers were beginning to show interest in his work. His career was percolating. But more important was the experience he was having writing his third novel. It was a coming-of-age story inspired by his childhood experiences. Mark recalls, “Each day I sat at the computer and poured out my heart. My protagonist, a young boy named Wade Parker, took over the story. The words seemed to vent like steam bursting from deep within me. I knew something special was happening. I was writing from my heart and the honesty of the work was bringing about a change in me. It was giving me a peace that seemed to flow through the work from a source beyond. It was definitely a spiritual thing, though at the time I did not recognize it was coming from God.”

Then one day Mark’s agent called to inform him that she would be retiring the following year. Manuscripts out to publishers would be followed up on, but she would no longer play a long term role in his career. Something about the timing of the agent’s decision seemed to warn Mark to stop and reassess things. Inspired by publicized successes of a few self-published books, and recognizing that new channels of independent distribution were opening up, including the internet, Mark made a big decision. With the encouragement of his family, he decided to publish and market his third novel on his own. And God revealed a little more of His plan.

In the fall of 1996, just after moving to Oregon, Mark self-published The King of Billy Goat Hill, a semi-biographical novel about brotherly love and forgiveness. And there began a journey of discovery that would take him throughout the heartland of America. For several years he traveled making countless appearances at book stores, civic groups, libraries, festivals, readers groups, TV and radio programs, and assorted speaking engagements in over 200 cities. “Promoting the book was the adventure of a lifetime and an incredible learning experience,” Mark says. “But none of that would compare with what God was about to do in my life. I had no idea what was coming.”

What follows is Mark’s personal account of the day God intervened in his life.

I was alone on my way home heading west into Bend, Oregon. I stopped briefly at a grocery store and was gone from my car no more than five minutes. It is my habit to lock my car, so when I returned from the store it was an unconscious thing to unlock the car door. I exited the parking lot and continued on my way. About 30 seconds after resuming the drive I was startled by a man’s voice speaking to me from the rear seat directly behind me. ‘Follow the vehicle up ahead,’ the voice said. My heart stopped and I flinched. Carjacked!  Didn’t I lock the door?

My eyes snapped to the rearview mirror and I lurched in the seat, whipping my head around to look behind me. So frightened I was, I jerked the steering wheel when I turned my shoulders and unintentionally swerved into the adjoining lane. Thankfully no cars were in the lane next to me, or we would have collided for sure. In fact, amazingly there were no vehicles anywhere near me. The back seat was empty, too. What the heck? Trembling, my heart rattling with a flood of adrenalin, I looked over my shoulder again and frantically scanned the entire back seat area including the floor. Nothing! This can’t be. I heard a voice! I heard a voice!

In the seconds that followed, my mind ran through a list of urgent thoughts. Did I really hear a voice? YES I DID! So, ahem...was it a ghost? No, I don’t believe in ghosts. Is this what they mean by a mid-life crisis? Am I having a mental breakdown? I must be working too hard. Man, I’ve got to slow down some. Oh boy, I better not tell a soul about this. What did I hear...Follow the vehicle up ahead? What does that mean? I looked up ahead. There was a vehicle in the distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile in front of me. In fact, it was the only other vehicle on the entire road, in both directions. Sheesh! Shaky, but in control, I drove on. Feeling queasy and more than a little agitated, I struggled to corral the fear that gripped my heart. What on earth just happened? I couldn’t believe it. Just drive, I told myself. Go home and go to bed.

I now had about a mile to go before making a turn south. Meanwhile, I tried to concentrate on the road, but I couldn’t help squinting ahead to get a better look at that vehicle. It was still there, and I was gradually gaining on it, but it was too far away to make out what kind of car it was. And strangely, no other vehicles had entered the road or gotten between us, a highly unusual thing for that time of day. With the vehicle now about thirty seconds ahead of me, I observed it cross through the upcoming highway intersection and continue west. Whew! Here comes my turn and I’m definitely heading south. Again, “Follow the vehicle up ahead,” said the voice from behind me. My eyes filled with tears and the hair on the back of my neck prickled with fear. I felt faint. I did not look back, and as much as I wanted to, I did not turn south either. I couldn‘t muster the courage to disobey the voice.

The vehicle continued west through town. At each cross street the signal lights stayed green long enough to allow me to keep the vehicle in sight. Slowly, the gap between us closed. Several minutes later, our little caravan came upon the western outskirts of town. We were nearing the point where the road heads into the country and the deep woods beyond. I was now about a hundred yards behind the vehicle, thinking, What in the heck am I doing? This car could be heading for the Pacific Ocean for all I know. This is nuts! Hey! Wait a minute. Do I know that vehicle? It’s a van. Oh, man! I think that’s Bob and Colleen Corcoran’s van. Great! I’m stalking people who know me! Now what?

I had become acquainted with the Corcoran family through the friendship of our respective sons. The boys were athletes and teammates in several sports which brought us parents into social contact at games and meetings. The Corcoran’s were special people, warm, caring, thoughtful folks who always seemed to smile and offer a kind word. As the years went by, I found that I looked forward to going to the games, not just to watch the boys play, but also because I knew the Corcoran’s would be there.

The van was now approaching a location where I could turn around and make a hasty retreat, the entrance to a beautiful park and recreation area on the west side of Bend. I had been to the park once before, and I remembered there was a small parking area just outside the main entrance gate. I figured I could pull into the lot, turn around, and head back into town, leaving the Corcoran’s none the wiser. Then the van turned into the park entrance. Go figure. I slowed down, hoping they wouldn’t notice me, and watched as the van drove on through the entrance gate. Now’s my chance to get out of this!  I started to turn around. ‘Trust me,’ the voice said from the back seat. Jeez! I looked behind me again. Nothing.

At that moment, a most unexpected thought entered my mind. Maybe it’s God speaking to me. Oh, come on. God? That’s crazy.  Why would God speak to me, I mean, if there really is a God? But the desire to resist or run away suddenly left me. Emotionally drained, I surrendered the urge to bolt and instead steered my car through the entrance gate. Soon I was following immediately behind the van, and perhaps a minute later we came to a stop side by side in the only two open stalls in another parking area. I turned off the motor and sat there in silence. Now what?

I glanced to my right across the empty passenger seat and stared through two panes of glass. I watched as Bob Corcoran looked my way. He recognized me and smiled. I gave him a halfhearted wave. What am I doing? These are nice people. Don’t freak them out you idiot! They must have seen you following them. Think quickly. Make up some reason why you are here. ‘Trust me,’ the voice said one last time, and I started to cry—all six-feet-two-inches and 225 pounds of me.

Bob Corcoran got out of the van. I opened my car door and slowly got to my feet. Shaking and wobbly, I walked around the car and stood face to face with Bob. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You look upset.” There was concern in his eyes.

I didn’t know what to say, and then the words tumbled from my mouth. “You’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but....uh...I think God just spoke to me. I think he wants me to talk to you guys.” Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, it was all I could do to look at them as tears streaked down my face.

Colleen stood next to Bob; she smiled at me. Bob glanced at her, and said, “We don’t think you’re crazy, Mark. In fact, we have been praying for you and your family for years.” He reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

“Praying for me?” I was incredulous. Why would these people be praying for me?

“Sure. We often pray for our friends.”

“Yes we do,” Colleen added.

Dumbfounded, but at once relieved, I let out a deep breath. It must be you, God. “You mean you’re not surprised by this? You don’t think this is a little strange?”

Bob grinned. “Well, I can’t say this happens every day. But, God never ceases to amaze me. He often works in mysterious ways.”

“Huh. Wow.” I was beginning to relax and feel at ease. It was amazing the way Bob and Colleen seemed to be taking this in stride. There was such a disarming calm about them. They made me feel...at peace.

After a moment, Bob said, “We’re here for a company picnic. But that isn’t important now. Would you like to get in the van and drive a little farther into the park? There’s some nice spots along the stream with tables where we could sit and talk.”

“Yes, I think I’d like that.”

We drove up to a beautiful spot along the stream and parked near a picnic table. We sat down to talk, and from that moment on I felt safe, like I was under their wings. I told Bob and Colleen what had happened, about the voice, and thinking that I’d been carjacked. I told them how I had followed their car and tried to head home, but the voice wouldn’t let me. I was brought to tears again when I told them the how the voice said, “Trust me.” They listened and let me get it all out, never once suggesting in any way that they doubted my story or questioned my sanity. They were completely supportive and accepting of my amazing experience. I must have jabbered on for twenty minutes.

When I finished, Bob said, “Well, you’ve had quite an experience. At the very least you’ve got a heck of a story to tell your grandkids. But it sounds to me like today was the day the Lord planned to get your attention.”

“But, I don’t understand why God would want me to talk to you?”

“Well, we are Christians. But God accomplishes His will through people all the time, believers and non-believers alike. We believe in Jesus Christ. Apparently it was His plan for us to get to know you in preparation for today.”

I looked away. “Jeez, Bob. I don’t know. Why me? I mean...of all people...why ME? Why would GOD get into the back seat of my car?”

Bob just smiled. “God can do anything. And I can tell you this much for sure, God loves you just as much as He loves me and Colleen. He loves you so much that He gave His Son to die for you. And he has a specific plan for everyone’s life here on earth.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. We all have.”

“Have you ever read the bible?”

“Not from cover to cover.”

“Maybe it’s time you did.”

“Maybe. Do you guys go to church?”

“Yes. We go to Fellowship Bible Church here in Bend.”

“Really? I never thought of you guys as church people.”

Bob just grinned and shook his head.

We sat there for a while in the warm embrace of God’s love. It was surreal, idyllic, with the stream babbling nearby and birds chirping in the pines all around us. Bob and Colleen gently, patiently answered my questions and eventually they prayed over me and thanked God for bringing us together. It was an incredible conversation, and by the time we finished our visit I felt certain that it truly was God who spoke to me from the back seat of my car...the day He changed my life forever.

Postscript—

The following Sunday Mark worshiped at Bob and Colleen’s church. It took him a few weeks, but one night while at home alone he asked God for forgiveness and surrendered his heart to Jesus. A few months later he was baptized. There have been many challenges and more miracles in Mark’s life. Shortly after accepting Christ, God closed the door on Mark’s writing career. Mark fought with God for a while over that, and lost. And for a season lasting five years God favored him with the blessing of His refining fire. When it came to pass that Mark fully understood that his life—past, present and future—is planned according to God’s will and perfect timing, God flung the doors wide open and called him to serve as a writer and speaker for His glory. Praise God, Mark now understands the purpose of the beginning, the present, and the future of his spiritual existence. By understanding, accepting and practicing forgiveness through Christ Jesus, Mark’s salvation is assured. And by God’s grace alone, Mark is blessed with the gift of peace, which is available to all who accept Christ and serve Him. He is now called to serve God by writing and speaking about the fundamental importance of forgiveness.

“As the Truth that is Jesus Christ has saved an undeserving wretch like me, so may His Truth save you from your trespasses and sin. Amen.”—Mark Stanleigh Morris