“My father was gone, my mother left me in the hospital after giving birth—she abandoned me,” said George.
He saw a light, but he also heard a voice. Salvadoran George Lionel Martínez was disoriented; he didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it wasn’t an illusion—it was a transformation in his life.
Moments earlier, he had gone to the Christian church he usually attended but returned home. The kind of claustrophobia he was experiencing had him cornered. He couldn’t tolerate the streets, the crowds, the people. He only wanted to be locked inside his house, overwhelmed by anxiety and depression.
“Go to church,” he heard clearly. George was watching a soccer match, but that voice and that light were powerful. He called a friend who often accompanied him on his trips outside and to church.
“I see a light and hear a voice telling me I need to go back to church,” he told his friend.
“I’m coming for you,” his friend replied, without questioning what was happening.
When they arrived at the church, the light was still there—intensely white. And he heard, “Thank you for coming, you’re going to be free.” George was scared. Dozens of thoughts raced through his mind; his body likely trembled. He gathered his courage and spoke to that light and voice—only he could see and hear them.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, desperate.
“Are you ready to accept Christ into your heart?” the voice asked. “Are you ready to give me your heart and accept me?” it continued, as George stood in shock.
And George hesitated—not out of disbelief, but out of confusion.
“I don’t want to sound overly religious, like some fanatic; I’m just sharing what happened to me, which changed my life.”
George’s resurrection. His connection with God helped him forgive and forgive himself.
George Lionel Martínez was born in Chalatenango, El Salvador. His brother and sister were abandoned by their mother; his father had been killed by guerrillas during the brutal years of the civil war in that country.
“My father was gone, my mother left me in the hospital after giving birth—she abandoned me. She called my grandfather, my dad’s father, and told him that if he wanted me, he should come get me. Otherwise, they’d give me to another family. My grandfather saved me for a few years until he passed away,” says George, now a well-known barber in the El Sereno community and a dedicated servant to those in need.
“I never met my mother. I knew my father had died. From an early age in El Salvador, I was a child filled with rage. I blamed God, demanded answers, and asked, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’” he says in an interview.
Later, he learned that his mother had gone to Guatemala, started a new life, and had more children.
“She sold everything that belonged to my father and left with another man. I don’t blame her anymore or hold a grudge, but I had to heal to accept it,” he says.
His grandfather decided to migrate to Los Angeles, where he had family and the chance to start anew. However, just as George thought life might start balancing out, his grandfather died, leaving him once again without support—an orphan, looking everywhere for an answer to his suffering.
“I was really angry at God. I cried a lot. I was raised by my uncles. They gave everything to their kids, but nothing to me. I was a child wandering around the house, with no sense of belonging. I’d go out into the streets, bounce from house to house. I even hung out with gang members for a while. And then came the miracles. I began having panic and anxiety attacks. I couldn’t even go outside. I had to stay locked in, surrounded by shadows and darkness,” he recalls emotionally. He was just 18—very few years for a small body that had already been battered by life.
His hair kept growing, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to a barbershop. His family and friends were aware of his struggles. Consciously or not, they felt they had to do something—to help somehow. And there was his anger with God—who, for believers, was perhaps testing him or teaching him a lesson.
“I had already started cutting hair, but interestingly, around that time I met a woman who owned a barbershop called Blend in a well-established location. She offered me a job.”
One day, a friend showed up at the house with a small machine, pulled it out, and showed it to him.
“What’s that?” George asked.
“It’s a hair clipper. How about I cut your hair, and then you cut mine?” his friend said.
George didn’t know what to say. He had never considered becoming a barber. But he agreed.
“I think he saw how long my hair was and figured I wouldn’t go out to get it cut, so he brought the clippers,” he says. And that was his first real contact with the machine that, in the years to come, would give him the tools to live.
He began practicing, but the full transformation would still take some time.
“A man moved into the house across the street. He hosted Bible study sessions and invited me without questioning anything. I accepted. I didn’t have much to do, and I felt good there. But I always refused when he invited me to church. ‘I’m not going there—I’m fine coming here, but that’s it. I won’t go to church,’” George recalls.
His neighbor wisely didn’t insist. He accepted George’s position and didn’t question him. George kept attending Bible studies.
His friend, however, insisted. He offered to accompany him, to take him to church. “If you feel bad, I’ll bring you home,” he told him.
So George decided to give it a try. The first few times, he couldn’t handle it, and his friend had to take him back quickly. Other times, he mocked the services. They invited him to a retreat, and he went—with his friend. But his denial continued… until the pure white lights, the voice, and the need for acceptance made him give in.
“I’m ready for God,” he told himself. And he told the light and voice, “I’m ready to let you into my heart.” “I’ll never forget that feeling,” he says. “I felt free. I saw past moments in my life. Those memories came back to show me who I had been and who I was. Then I felt a black shadow leave my body—I felt liberated.”
The moment was so intense that the church pastor came over and asked, “Why are you crying?” At that moment, he was told, the Holy Spirit was entering his body.
He entered a healing stage. He began to forgive those who needed forgiveness, and a resurrection began.
“If someone comes and tells me they don’t have money, I cut their hair for free. What matters is serving. I do it out of gratitude to God. Everything happens for a reason.”
“I had already started cutting hair, but interestingly, around that time I met a woman who owned a barbershop called Blend in a well-established location. She offered me a job. I run everything—I’m alone there. That woman was also a savior,” George says. “God gave me the gift of cutting hair. That friend showing up with clippers wasn’t random—it was meant to happen so everything else could follow.”
But George felt the need to do more with his life and profession. He began cutting hair for the homeless. Two days a week, he set up in the alley behind the barbershop, and word began to spread. The unhoused would come, sit down comfortably, and get a haircut.
“If someone comes and tells me they don’t have money, I cut their hair for free. What matters is serving. I do it out of gratitude to God. Everything happens for a reason. God took away the anger I carried. Now I talk on the phone with my mother. I help her when she needs it—same with my siblings,” he says.
George also participates in community festivals in El Sereno. He goes to schools and cuts students’ hair for free. His project, launching this year, will connect him even more to his community.
“I always dreamed of having a little truck converted into a barbershop. I saved and saved until I could buy it. It’s now outfitted, and this year I plan to launch it—driving around the city offering free haircuts. I do it because I can and because I want to—because Christ gives me strength,” he says.
“I’m ready for God,” he told himself. And he told the light and voice, “I’m ready to let you into my heart.” “I’ll never forget that feeling,” he says. “I felt free. I saw past moments in my life. Those memories came back to show me who I had been and who I was.
George is an active church member. At the barbershop, he hosts Bible studies and speaks with those who need someone to listen.
“I don’t want to sound overly religious. What I want is to show people a living example of God’s goodness—myself,” he adds.
George has two sons and a daughter with different women at different stages of life.
“I always had relationships with older women because I was looking for my mother—I didn’t realize it at the time. I was never ready to take those relationships to the next level. In my last relationship, I had my youngest son. She wanted to get married, but I felt I couldn’t handle the responsibility—she already had other children. But then I tried. I worked at the barbershop and started cleaning offices. I realized that with hard work, I could make it. I told her, ‘I was wrong—I see now I can handle the expenses. Let’s do it. Let’s get married,’” he says, emotional.
George is still waiting for her response, but he believes his faith will guide him to the right path.
A piece of advice he always gives to those who approach him:
“Seek God, try to believe, and live a stable life. If there are problems, I’ll cut your hair for free.”
