I rejoice in the decided conviction that this is the Lord’s doing; unaccountable by any natural causes, entirely above and beyond what any human device or power could produce; an outpouring of the Spirit of God upon God’s people, quickening them to greater earnestness in his service; and upon the unconverted, to make them new creatures in Christ Jesus.
Bishop Charles P. McIlvaine (1799–1873)
By 1971, Cathe Martin had reached the ripe age of fourteen and made the transition from cute Catholic schoolgirl to a happy, hazy hippie. Her family had made the move from Kuala Lumpur to Long Beach, and to her parents’ dismay, they discovered that the drug culture was at least as bad in Southern California as it had been in Malaysia. Cathe’s older sisters quickly figured out where the drug action and the cool guys were, and by now Cathe was ready to join them.
She loved the gentle edges and mellow colors of smoking dope. She and her sisters would hitchhike to love-ins at local parks, where they’d sit on the grass, smoke some weed, and talk with whoever came by about music or life or flowers. She loved wearing long granny dresses and going barefoot. But she could not escape the guilt that plagued her, along with a deep desire in her heart for something more.
One spring day the Martin girls went to a concert at Long Beach College. They didn’t know anything about the bands that would be performing, but it sounded like a cool scene. Cathe was in ninth grade. They were sitting outside in a park, smoking pot under some palm trees, when some long-haired guys came over to say hello. It wasn’t unusual; one thing Cathe loved about hippie culture was that everyone shared everything. There weren’t any lines dividing people like she’d experienced growing up.
“Hey,” Cathe’s sister said. “You guys want to sit down and get high with us?”
“Thanks,” one of them responded. “We used to do all that. But we’re not into dope anymore.”
That seemed weird to Cathe. “Why not?” she asked.
“Well,” the guy said, “we found out what we were really looking for. We’d been looking for some kind of higher consciousness, you know, and we thought drugs were the way to get there. But we found out how to really find God, and now we have a relationship with Jesus.”
Cathe had never heard of anything like that. She’d gone to church as a child, and she’d never seen anyone there who seemed like he or she was a friend of God. Church seemed like it was just about going through a bunch of rituals that didn’t get you to the mystical connection with God that Cathe longed for. So what did this guy mean about a “relationship with Jesus”?
“You mean Jesus Christ?” she asked. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, that Jesus.” The guy laughed. “We found out that Jesus isn’t mad; He loves everybody, and He paid the penalty for the bad stuff that every single person does. The penalty was death. So He died in my place, in your place. But He didn’t stay dead, because He was God. He came back to life. And everyone who believes in Him and asks for forgiveness of their sins and trusts in Him will live forever!”
Cathe had never heard something that wild. Her face got red and her mouth was open, and then suddenly she thought that this guy was just kidding with her, trying to get her going. I’m the youngest person in this circle, she thought, and he’s just trying to trick me. She pulled back and started laughing, her hands over her face.
“Wait a minute,” the guy said. “What I’m telling you is true!”
Cathe didn’t want to embarrass herself by seeming gullible. But even as she stood there giggling, her hands over her eyes, the thought crossed her mind: My life is a wreck. And here I am, on my way right to hell, laughing, and what these guys are telling us is actually right and real and true.
She stopped laughing. “Okay,” she said. “If God is real, tell me what I have to do to have a relationship with Him, like you said before. Is it really that simple?”
The guys nodded. “Just come into the concert with us,” they said. “You’ll see how simple it is in there.”
Cathe and her sisters walked with them into the auditorium. Up front on the stage was an acid rock band called Agape. They played a few songs that might have been about Jesus, but Cathe couldn’t really tell, because the electric guitars were so loud she couldn’t hear any lyrics.
After the first set, one of the band members stood up front and told the crowd about Jesus, and how whoever wanted to receive Him could become a son or daughter of God right there.
“Is there anyone here who wants to have a relationship with God through Jesus Christ?” he asked. “If you do, just stand up and come down to the front of the stage.”
I have to stand up, Cathe thought. That’s what I want.
She went up to the front. As far as she could tell, she was the only fourteen-year-old in the room, and now here she was with all these college students, accepting Jesus. She prayed with some people who were there to help the new believers. One of them gave her a Bible. The guys who had brought Cathe and her sisters to the concert gave Cathe a hug. “This is so great!” one of them said. “We’ll take you to church with us tomorrow so you can start learning more about walking with Jesus!”
As Cathe and her sisters left the college campus, she felt like she was one of maybe ten people on the entire planet who had ever felt the way she felt. She felt clean inside. Forgiven. Special. God loved her.
When the girls got home, they told their parents that they were going to church the next morning. That was new. Pilar and Dick Martin didn’t quite know what to think, but church was a lot better than anywhere else their daughters had been going lately.
The next day a dented, rusty beater car slowly pulled up in front of the Martin home. One of the Christian guys the girls had met the day before got out. He had on jeans, love beads, and a torn strip from a cotton T-shirt wrapped around his forehead as a makeshift headband for his long, curly hair. He’d written “Agape” on it in black magic marker, and if the effect was not particularly artistic, it was sincere.
The beater car somehow made it from Long Beach all the way to Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa. The sanctuary was overflowing with hippies, old people, and everyone in between. There were hundreds of people sitting on folding chairs outside.
Oh my gosh! Cathe thought. I guess I’m not just one of ten people in the whole world who know Jesus!
After an old guy called Pastor Chuck talked about the Bible, a hippie came out who looked like Jesus. Lonnie Frisbee. He asked anyone who wanted to know Jesus to come forward. Cathe stood up again and made her way to the front with a few dozen other people, thinking that this must be what you do every time you come to church.
Lonnie led everyone in a prayer, and then Pastor Chuck clearly explained what it meant to follow Jesus, and how to read the Bible and learn more about Him. Wow, Cathe thought. It’s not all mystical and trippy. It really makes sense. It’s a cool way to live.
After church, Cathe told her parents where they had been and what they had done. “Noooooo!” her mother moaned. “What are you doing? You went to a Protestant church? It must be a cult!”
“Mom!” Cathe said. “You’ve been praying and getting the nuns to pray for us for so long. You’ve been asking God to change us. And now we’re done with drugs and all that other stuff. Jesus is the only way we can really change!”
Pilar and Dick didn’t know quite what to think of their daughters’ new allegiances. But like parents across America, they were both thankful for—and mystified by—the Jesus Revolution.