Mark Freiburger
12 min read ⭑
“We’ve become so comfortable in America with our versions of faith that we’ve forgotten the radical, inconvenient demands of the gospel.”
As an award-winning filmmaker, Mark Freiburger knows the power of telling a compelling story. It’s why the 30-second Doritos commercial he directed in 2013 was dubbed “The Greatest Super Bowl Ad of All Time” and why the docuseries he produced, Downing of the Flag, earned an Emmy nomination. Yet more important to Mark than winning awards is his faith and the courage to ask hard, uncomfortable questions. That courage shines in his latest project, Between Borders — a true story of Armenian refugees seeking asylum in the 1980s — which went on to become the 15th-highest-grossing film at the U.S. box office in 2025.
Today, Mark is opening up about the transition from world-traveling, filmmaking bachelor to grounded, married father of two — and how it’s altered his spiritual life. He also shares why books about near-death experiences and rational defenses for the Christian faith have fundamentally changed the way he views life.
QUESTION #1: ACQUAINT
Food is always about more than food; it’s also about home and people and love. So how does a go-to meal at your favorite hometown restaurant reveal the true you behind your web bio?
“Hometown” is a word that remains fluid for me. I was born in Virginia, grew up between Pennsylvania and North Carolina, spent the majority of my adult life in Los Angeles, and now — for nearly a decade as of this writing — I’ve made Austin, Texas, my home.
The nature of my work sends me traveling around the world, and I’ve been fortunate to share incredible meals with talented people across the globe. One of the most memorable was in Tokyo while working on a film. A crew member invited us to his family’s home, where his mother had spent literal days preparing a homemade sukiyaki meal. It remains, hands-down, one of the best meals of my life — not just for the food itself, but for the generosity and care that went into every bite.
These days, though, my favorite meal happens right here in Austin, at the home of my collaborator and cinematographer, Rogier Stoffers. Rogier has a pizza oven outfitted with clay tiles imported from southern Italy, and the man is a perfectionist about his craft. The ingredients come from his garden, and he makes everything from scratch — even the dough. A pizza night at Rogier’s house unfolds slowly: rounds of pizza emerging from that oven, wine flowing, espresso later in the evening and conversations that stretch deep into the night about the world, our lives and the craft of filmmaking we both love.
What makes these evenings matter isn’t just the food, although it’s extraordinary. It’s the ritual of it — the way we set aside time to break bread, talk about what we’re wrestling with creatively and share what’s happening in our hearts. In a life that often feels transient, these nights have become my anchor, my nonnegotiable. They remind me that home isn’t just a place — it’s the people you choose to sit with, again and again.
Tomek Baginski; Unsplash
QUESTION #2: REVEAL
What “nonspiritual” activity have you found to be quite spiritual, after all? What quirky proclivity, out-of-the-way interest or unexpected pursuit refreshes your soul?
I have two small boys at home, and honestly, just playing with them is what refreshes my soul most.
The film industry is relentless. It finds a way to beat you down every single day — the rejections, the exhaustion, the endless uncertainty. But at the end of the workday, none of that matters anymore. When I’m on the floor building magna-tile towers or chasing them through the backyard, all that weight falls away.
I love their wonder. The way everything is new to them — a cardboard box becomes a fort, a puddle is an ocean to splash through. Playing with my children feels like the purest way to see the heart of God: unguarded joy, immediate forgiveness, love without condition.
I once saw a popular podcaster — someone without children — say to her co-host, “Imagine having a bad day at work, and then you have to go home … to children. Ugh.” They both laughed, dismissive.
And I thought: They have it backward.
Because when I have a bad day at work, I get to go home to my children. They lift my spirits. They remind me what actually matters. In their laughter and their small hands reaching for mine, I find a kind of grace that doesn’t need to be earned, only received.
That’s where I meet God most consistently: not in quiet contemplation, to be honest, but in the beautiful chaos of being someone’s dad.
QUESTION #3: CONFESS
Every superhero has a weakness; every human, too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re all broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite and how do you confront its power?
My kryptonite might be that I tend to want to do too many things at once.
I’m curious about everything — different ways to live, stories to tell, experiences to chase, skills to learn. At any given moment, I have 20 tabs open in my head: a film idea that won’t let me go, a place I want to take my kids, a craft I want to master, an event I want to host. It’s exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure.
But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to choose fewer things and do them with my whole heart. It’s harder than it sounds. Yet I’m finding that the purposeful limitations bring a different kind of freedom.
QUESTION #4: FIRE UP
Tell us about your toil. How are you investing your professional time right now? What’s your current obsession? And why should it be ours?
Right now, I’m pouring myself into films that make people uncomfortable — especially people in the church.
As I’ve found my voice as a filmmaker, I’ve realized I’m drawn to stories that live in the tension between faith and fear, between what we say we believe and how we actually live. Stories that push boundaries not for the sake of provocation, but because they ask us to remember who we’re supposed to be.
This past year, I wrote and directed a film called “Between Borders,” which played in theaters and is now streaming on Amazon Prime. It’s about a family fighting for asylum in the United States — a straightforward story about welcoming the foreigner, as Scripture commands us to do in Matthew, Romans, Leviticus and Deuteronomy. Yet somehow, that simple concept of Christ-like love was deemed controversial. The pushback surprised me at first, until I realized: we’ve become so comfortable in America with our versions of faith that we’ve forgotten the radical, inconvenient demands of the gospel.
My next film is based on a true story about a Christian woman who started one of the first private AIDS hospices in America for gay men — at a time when the church, alongside most of the country, turned its back on the LGBTQ community. She didn’t do it for recognition or to make a statement. She did it because she believed in becoming the hands and feet of Christ, even when it cost her everything. It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking story. And I’m sure some will find it controversial, too.
But here’s what drives me: I believe the best films don’t give us easy answers. They spark conversation. They make us wrestle. They hold up a mirror and ask, “Is this who we want to be?”
Christ gave us simple commands — love one another, welcome the stranger, care for the least of these. My films are love letters to a church I still believe in, reminding us that the gospel was never meant to be safe or comfortable. It was meant to transform us.
QUESTION #5: BOOST
Whether we’re cashiers or CEOs, contractors or customer service reps, we all need God’s love flowing into us and back out into the world. How does the Holy Spirit invigorate your work? And how do you know it’s God when it happens?
I’ve been writing, creating and telling stories with a camera since I was a child — long enough now that I can usually tell the difference between my own striving and God’s leading.
For me, it comes down to peace versus restlessness.
When something is from God, there’s a stillness at the center of it. I can work hard, pour myself into it, wrestle with the creative challenges — but underneath all that effort, there’s a deep, abiding peace. I’m even willing to let it go if it doesn’t work out. There’s trust instead of desperation.
But when I’m forcing something? When I’m white-knuckling a project, overworking, lying awake at 3 a.m., anxious about how to make it happen? That restlessness is usually God’s way of gently tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “You’re doing this one on your own.”
I’ve learned that the Holy Spirit doesn’t always shout. Sometimes God’s presence feels less like lightning and more like a steady hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the path. The best work I’ve ever done has come when I stopped striving and started listening — when I trusted that if something is meant to be, God will make a way. And if it’s not, he’ll give me something better if I’m willing to listen and follow the right path instead.
QUESTION #6: inspire
Scripture and tradition beckon us into the rich and varied habits that open our hearts to the presence of God. So let us in. Which spiritual practice is working best for you in this season?
For most of my adult life, I’ve been on the road — traveling and working in different states, different countries. It was exhilarating and lonely in equal measure. Sundays meant hotel rooms and AirBnbs in cities I didn’t call home. Sermons streamed on my laptop. And the occasional short-term stay back at my Los Angeles home and the church I attended in Santa Monica.
Now, in this season — married, with two small children — I’ve been forced to slow down. To root. To build consistency for the well-being of my family. And in that slowing, I’ve discovered something I never had before: the profound gift of staying.
My favorite spiritual practice right now is something I’ve never been able to do consistently in my adult life — attending the same church every Sunday, week-in and week-out. Sitting in the same seat. Listening to sermons from a pastor who knows my name. Building community with a church family who has watched my kids grow.
I know it sounds almost embarrassingly basic. But I would remind anyone reading this: never take those simple things for granted. That kind of community is the foundation that we all need.
QUESTION #7: FOCUS
Looking backward, considering the full sweep of your unique faith journey and all you encountered along the way, what top three resources stand out to you? What changed reality and changed your heart?
First, the pastor who truly changed my life: Nathan Kollar. I met him when I lived in Los Angeles, where he led a church with grounded, deeply biblical sermons that never felt performative or preachy. But what struck me most was how genuine he was — a man who lived what he taught. He now pastors GraceLand Church in Franklin, Tennessee, and I still listen to his sermons regularly. Nathan taught me that faith isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about wrestling honestly with God and showing up anyway.
Second, “Imagine Heaven” by John Burke. This book was a game-changer for me — the first time I truly felt peace about death and the separation from loved ones we all eventually face. Burke chronicles decades of near-death experiences from people all over the world — doctors, atheists, Muslims, Christians, skeptics — people who were declared clinically dead and went on to witness heaven and the afterlife. The consistency of their testimonies, across cultures and belief systems, is staggering. It gave me hope rooted not just in theology, but in the lived experiences of ordinary people who glimpsed something extraordinary. He also has a podcast of the same name, and the documentary film “After Death” covers many of the same stories. In my opinion, “Imagine Heaven” is one of the most important books out there today.
Third, “The Reason for God” by Timothy Keller. What made this book so important to me was that it gave me permission to ask hard questions without feeling like my faith was fragile. Keller demonstrates that belief in God is not only emotionally satisfying but intellectually sound — that you don’t have to check your brain at the door to follow Jesus. For someone like me, who works in an industry full of skeptics and who occasionally wrestles with different kinds of doubts myself, this book became a lifeline. It reminded me that faith and reason aren’t enemies; they’re companions on the same journey toward truth.
Certain things can be godsends, helping us survive, even thrive, in our fast-paced world. Does technology ever help you this way? Has an app ever boosted your spiritual growth? If so, how?
I’m currently in a phase of life where I’m trying to disconnect from apps, tech and screens as much as possible. So I don’t have an app to recommend for spiritual growth — because honestly, I’m learning that less technology might be the most spiritual thing I can do right now.
I work in an industry that’s screen-dominated. My days are spent staring at monitors — editing footage, writing scripts, answering emails, taking video calls. The more time I spend with screens, the more my attention span is frayed.
So I’ve started pulling back. No phone at the dinner table. No screens after 8 p.m. Leaving my phone in another room when I’m playing with my boys. And I’ve discovered the more I’m away from screens, the more I spend time reading actual printed words — books with pages I can turn, margins I can write in — and having real conversations with people face-to-face, the happier and more fulfilled I am.
There’s something almost sacramental about it. Slowing down enough to notice. To listen. To be interrupted by my son’s question instead of my phone’s notification. To feel boredom and resist the urge to fill it immediately.
I’m not saying technology is evil. But I am saying that for me, in this season, abstaining from as much of it as I can has become a spiritual discipline. It’s teaching me presence. Patience. How to sit with silence instead of running from it.
QUESTION #8: dream
God’s continually stirring new things in each of us. So give us the scoop! What’s beginning to stir in you but not yet fully awakened? What can we expect from you in the future?
What’s stirring in me right now is a deep awareness that our time here is limited, and I don’t want to waste another moment hiding.
For years, I kept my faith somewhat compartmentalized, especially in an industry where I rarely encountered people who shared it. I learned early on how to code-switch, to soften the edges of what I believed so I wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable. I told myself it was wisdom. But honestly? It was probably fear.
Something’s shifted in me. Maybe it was becoming a father. Maybe it was living through a pandemic. Maybe it was watching the world fracture and realizing how little time any of us actually have. But I’ve entered a place where, to put it bluntly, I just don’t care anymore about playing it safe. I am who I am. My faith is what propels me. And if that costs me opportunities or makes me an outsider in certain circles, so be it. I’d rather be authentic than accepted by everyone.
As far as projects go, every film I’m developing right now seems to challenge the church in some way — telling uncomfortable, deeply human, spiritual stories that need to be told. Stories about the people Jesus spent his time with: the outcasts, the foreigners, the ones the religious establishment abandoned. I want to make films that don’t let us off the hook, that ask hard questions about who we’ve become and whether we still resemble the Savior we claim to follow.
I won’t lie — it’s terrifying. There’s this voice in my head that whispers, What if you fail? What if no one shows up? What if the church rejects you? And some days, that voice is loud. But there’s another voice beneath it, quieter but steadier, that says, Tell the truth. Trust me with the results.
So that’s what I’m leaning into: making films that matter more than films that are safe. Building a body of work that reflects the kingdom of God, not the culture. And trusting that if God called me to this, he’ll sustain me through it — even when it’s hard, even when it’s lonely, even when the path forward isn’t clear.
I think that’s what faith looks like in this season: not having all the answers, but moving forward anyway. Dreaming big, failing often and believing that God can use even our messes to tell a story worth telling.
Around 17% of people who have almost died report having near-death experiences, where they often encounter light, spiritual beings, deceased loved ones or a recounting of their life before coming back.
As Christians, we know we have nothing to fear when death comes, because we know heaven awaits us. The Bible describes our final resting place like this:
“I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away’” (Rev. 21:2-4, ESV).
Lord Jesus, help us live in light of that day!
Mark Freiburger is an award-winning filmmaker who has written, directed and produced numerous films and commercials, including “The Greatest Super Bowl Ad of All Time,” as named by CBS. He mentored under legendary blockbuster director Michael Bay, then went on to make his own films, including his most recent film, Between Borders, released in 2025. Mark was also a contributing writer on the 2024 Lionsgate film Ordinary Angels, starring Academy Award winner Hilary Swank. He currently sits on the board of The Hope Project International in Nicaragua, which is dedicated to serving one of the most marginalized communities in the Western Hemisphere.