PASTOR JAY AND ME. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
I relate deeply to Jay because our lives have run on parallel courses in many areas. His mother raised him. She was like Pops in a way—a product of the ’60s who grew up thinking that getting high was normal. Friends of the family once thought it was cute to pour the kid drinks and blow pot smoke in his face, ignorantly getting him drunk or stoned way back when he was still in kindergarten. They had no idea that they were creating a drug addict and that his upbringing would nearly destroy him. By the age of twelve Jay was dealing bags of pot. At age fifteen he split for California, where his landlady got him into coke. He crashed on Tony Alva’s family’s couch for a while.
Years later, as an adult, Jay is just another strung-out crackhead looking to score. It’s a Friday night in 1990 and he’s off to meet his connection, when he encounters a man with something more to offer. After some intense conversation the man leads Jay in a simple prayer of salvation. Jay never does meet his connection that night, and he never uses drugs again. Instead he starts the Sanctuary Church, here in Huntington Beach in 2002. Two years later, I join him there.
I’ve seen many broken lives put back together at the Sanctuary, but there’s so much more to be done. We drive down the street and gather our congregation up—pick up some homeless addicts, get them food, and preach the gospel to them—but then we drop them back off at the dumpster they’re living behind or the bridge that shelters them. It’s heartbreaking leaving them there on the street. What’s more, I know that it’s only the grace of God that has kept me from being this guy or that guy. Without Christ there’s no difference between me, the addict on the street, the guy in the penthouse suite at Trump Tower, or Trump himself. They’re all gonna stand one day before the God who created them. As the Bible teaches in Philippians 2:10–11, “…at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord….”
HOSOI CO-WRITER CHRIS AHRENS, JAY ADAMS, AND ME. © T-ROC.
ALEX OLSON, RHYTHM, ME, DOM DELUCA, AND STEVE OLSON. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
None of these people started off in the gutter; in fact, many of them had good homes. In almost every case drugs or alcohol destroyed everything they had. Lots of them initially bought into the idea that drugs would benefit their lives. By the time they realized that wasn’t true, it was too hard to pull themselves out of the trap. I can honestly say now that drugs were nothing but a dead-end road that cost me nearly everything and could have cost me my life. All drugs ever did for me was keep me from thinking straight. When I smoked weed I didn’t think about responsibilities or my purpose in life—just girls, skating, and more weed. When you’re smoking another joint, doing another line, or blowing another glass pipe with a torch, life blows by and suddenly you’re a middle-aged druggie with no skills to support yourself.
Drugs, money, fame, sex—it’s all an illusion. Through those means we grab at the wind, not knowing what’s at stake. As a society we’ve set the bar so low that we actually expect our kids to try drugs, to do them at home and not in the street. We’ve quit warning our kids not to follow a risky path. Instead, we tell them to be safe while they experiment with the poisons they’ve chosen. The fortunate ones get in and get out of the drug world quickly, but one day they too regret wasting the best of their lives.
WEAPONS OF WARFARE
This next section should come with a warning like the one they give on movies. It could scare some people. It’s about demon possession. I realize that not everyone is comfortable discussing that subject. This is by no means the main part of my ministry, but I can’t leave it out. All I know is that this is what I witnessed:
The Sunday night service is over. Some of us are hanging around, talking with friends and praying with those who’ve requested it. From out of nowhere a woman says, “I hear voices.” She looks like your average Orange County woman, only with a background in punk rock and raging. But something’s different here—a glossy glow in her eyes and an indescribable darkness. She says she’s feeling sick. Pastor Jay puts his hand on her head and begins praying. As soon as he says the words, “In the name of Jesus,” her head snaps back, her eyes roll back in her head, and her tongue shoots out like a snake. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was having convulsions.
As we pray she’s spitting up, almost vomiting. Then she shouts, “His claws are in my back. Get this thing out of me. Get him out of me—get him out, get him out!” Pastor Jay and I are both there, yelling, “In the name of Jesus, come out of her.” All of a sudden I sense the authority that Jesus gave his followers in Luke 10:19: “I give you the authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”
She’s here with her boyfriend, who has a painfully jacked-up shoulder. He’s standing in the front row, and since everyone around him is raising their hands, he raises his own hands. Just like that, his shoulder is healed. That’s at nearly the same moment his girlfriend gets set free.
© CESARIO “BLOCK” MONTANO.
I’m spending a relaxing evening at Pastor Jay’s house when he gets a call from Brian Sumner and Richard Jefferson, two hot skaters from the Sanctuary. They’ve been out skating with a friend who’s a hard-core ultimate fighter. Out of nowhere the guy starts acting really strange. That’s when they call and ask Jay what to do. His advice is simple: “Cast the devil out of him.” They reply, “We’ve never done anything like that before.”
It’s ten at night; Jay is locked down for the evening with his family. He looks over at me and asks, “Do you want to go down there?” I agree to do it and head out alone. At the time I was renting a warehouse for Hosoi Skateboards, and I tell the guys to meet me there. By the time I arrive, the guy’s lurking in the bushes and Brian and Richard are waiting by the door. The guy glares at me as if he’s a wild predator.
“Let’s go inside,” I suggest. He follows us into the office. There’s a recliner in the middle of the room, and I point him toward it. “I’m going into the bathroom for a moment,” I explain. “Sit down and relax, and when I return we’re gonna pray for you.” In the bathroom I pray, “Lord, I don’t want to be here for hours on end; let’s cast this devil out and go home. You’re all powerful, and this guy’s innocent.”
When I return from the bathroom he’s still standing up. I say, “Hey, sit down in that chair.” I ask Brian and Richard if everything’s right between them and God. They both reply that they’re fine. I tell them, “All right, stand on either side of him and hold his arms down.” This guy is a trained ultimate fighter, remember: if he gets loose, he’ll do a lot of damage. I look right at him but talk directly to the devil, saying, “In the name of Jesus, you are not gonna move from this chair.” Then I talk to the guy, saying, “Hey, we’re gonna pray for you right now, and Jesus is gonna free you. Are you ready?” A low growl comes from him as I set my hand on his forehead and say, “In the name of Jesus.” Right then his body stiffens, his tongue shoots out, and he hisses like a cobra ready to strike. His eyes are glassy and have a distant look. Richard and Brian are holding him down, but because of our prayer he’s not going anywhere.
I address the demon again: “In the name of Jesus, I have all authority over you. In the name of Jesus, come out of him.” The demon answers, “I’m not comin’; I’m not comin’.” I say, “Devil, this is a vessel of God, and you have no right to be in there. Come out of him.” For ten or fifteen minutes I command the demon in that manner. He tries to combat me and put fear into me, but I don’t listen. He’s yelling, “You can’t do this. He’s mine; he’s mine!”
“Kid, can you hear me?” I ask the guy. He nods his head yes. I say, “You’re gonna have to tell this devil to get out as well.” I walk the kid through a renouncing prayer—we say the words together—and I tell him to take a deep breath. At first he can’t breathe deeply at all. Then I tell him, “You need to
fight for this.” He finally forces a deep breath and I shout, “Okay, now blow it out.” We can smell a dark cloud filling the room as he exhales.
He’s screaming hysterically. Then his eyes come back into focus, his shoulders drop, and he smiles. After a moment he laughs joyfully. “It’s gone!” he says, hugging each of us. He exclaims over and over how good it feels to be free. This major life change takes only twenty minutes through the authority and power of Jesus Christ.
We see physical healings at the church too. One day a man comes to the church. He’s not what I’d call super saved. He comes up front and says, “I’ve got only a few months to live, and I’ll try anything.” There are tumors all through his body apparently, though none is visible. He tells me he wants as much prayer as possible. We pray for him on two occasions. When he returns to the doctors the next time, they check him out and are shocked. “What happened?” they ask him. He says, “What do you mean?” They say, “There’s no trace of cancer in your body.” As far as he can tell, there’s only one way to explain that. He tells them, “Jesus healed me!” Then he repeats: “Jesus healed me; Jesus healed me.” He keeps coming to church and is soon traveling all over the place giving his testimony. The cancer never does return.
These are dramatic accounts of spiritual and physical healing. The events described aren’t everyday occurrences at the Sanctuary. What we do see every day is evidence of God’s love for each and every person—not just those we currently serve, but those who are still waiting to learn about Jesus’s redeeming sacrifice. Every day, in conversations all across town, we hear about the many ways that God has blessed—and continues to bless—those who give their lives to Jesus.
PRO SKATING REVISITED AND REVISED
I now own 100 percent of Hosoi Skateboards and have just launched the company again in order to put something together for the future. Our new models are flying off the shelf. I hope to support my family with this work, but I also want my company to offer more than profit. I want it to influence the world and give something back.
I believe that this is the reason God allowed me not to OD or lose my mind when I was running the streets on drugs. I can’t account otherwise for the fact that my heart didn’t stop at those times when I was up for days in a row, blowing clouds of smoke—good dope, bad dope, it didn’t matter—every single day for years. Drugs are the trap that got me, but they’re not the only ones out there. Even being cool can ensnare you. Unfortunately, good is not cool; bad is cool in the world that I came from. I always wanted to be a good guy, but felt I needed to have a foot in the dark side. You can see where that can take you.
I didn’t make a lot of good choices as a kid, but in the long run it all worked out for good. Pastor Jay, Aaron, Jen, and anyone else walking closely with God will tell you the same things about their lives. Everything Pastor Jay and I have done, good and bad, is now used to spread the gospel, and because of our background we have a chance to minister to a lot of people with radical backgrounds.
JENNIFER, ENDLESS, AND ME. © CESARIO “BLOCK” MONTANO.
COURTESY OF THE DAILY CITIZEN.
THE NEW AFTER HOURS
It’s a Sunday night. We’re finished with church at the Sanctuary; we’ve prayed with people, eaten something, and skated long into the night. Now we’re hanging out at the local 7-Eleven like a couple of stoked skate groms when I see this girl I know. I can tell she’s on drugs. She used to attend church with us, but I haven’t seen her there for a while. I have a chance to encourage her and pray with her before she disappears into the darkness—or, hopefully, into the light.
Right as she drives off, a kid skates up. It’s now two in the morning, and I can see he’s a hard-core skater. I also imagine he’s high on something—he has that look—but I can’t judge him for that, cuz if he’d done half what I’ve done, he probably wouldn’t be alive right now. We strike up a conversation and talk about life for a while. I end up leading him to the Lord, right there in the parking lot.
Another girl I know pulls up while we’re still sitting here, and I’ll minister to her if she gives me the chance. It’s going to be a long night, I can tell—almost like those sleepless marathons I did on meth. The difference is that this has a purpose to it.
My ministry is far-reaching, both through the Sanctuary and through skate events. Whatever the forum, I do all I can to spare kids from a life filled with addiction like mine was. I speak at high school assemblies when I can, and anywhere else they’ll let me talk about the dangers of drug abuse, and preach at churches around the world. Kids these days are all told that weed is harmless, but I need them to know that pot and every other drug not only never helped me, but set me on a course that could have taken my life.
I can’t say for sure, but my hope is that this ride called life is still far from over for me. Again, as the apostle Paul said, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” There’s a great deal of work left to do; and no matter what, I plan on burning hard and shining brightly until the end.
Years ago, as you’ve seen in these pages, I invented a skateboarding move called the Christ Air. My name is Christian, I’ve worn crosses most of my life, and people used to call me Christ. I used to think that I was the man and that being called Christ was cool. Now I know that Jesus Christ is more than a rad-sounding name; it’s the name above all names. It’s my hope and my prayer that you will learn to understand the meaning of that name for yourself—no matter how good or bad you think you are.
You don’t have to be a professional skateboarder or a drug addict. Just confess your sins, ask Jesus to forgive you, invite Jesus into your heart, and tell someone about it. That’s all there is to it. That’s what I did, and all my guilt, all my hurt, and all my shame fell off my shoulders. I was finally free—and I’ve been free ever since. You can be free too. My family and many of my friends have been launched into the adventure of an eternal lifetime. They called me Christ, but that was just a nickname and one I could never live up to. My hope and prayer is that you also meet the One and Only. I promise you this: if you do, you’ll never be the same again.
© MELINDA KIM.
Photographic Insert
FIRST EVER PUBLISHED PHOTO OF ME, IN SKATEBOARDER MAGAZINE. TAKEN IN 1979. PUBLISHED IN JUNE 1980. © TED TERREBONNE.
RIDING FOR THE BONES BRIGADE. MARINA DEL REY SKATEPARK. GOLD CUP SERIES. 1980. © GLEN E. FRIEDMAN.
HANDING OUT FREE PRODUCT IN THE DEL MAR SKATE RANCH PARKING LOT. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
HUNTINGTON BEACH. OP PRO SURF CONTEST. 1985. ©IVAN HOSOI.
ROCKET AIR AT WESTMINSTER RAMP. JEFF GROSSO ON DECK. CIRCA MID-’80S. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
THRASHER MAGAZINE COVER. 1985. © MIKE TKACKEFF COURTESY OF THRASHER MAGAZINE.
HOLIDAY HAVOC AT ANAHEIM CONVENTION CENTER. HIGH AIR CONTEST. 1985. COURTESY OF HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION AND SANTA CRUZ.
MASTER BEDROOM WALK-IN CLOSET. CIRCA 1989. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
VENICE BEACH VSA RAMP. MID-’80S. ©IVAN HOSOI.
KNEE-ON AIR. 1987. ©IVAN HOSOI.
FIRST PUBLISHED IN HIGH TIMES MAGAZINE. EAGLE ROCK RAMP. 1984. © GLEN E. FRIEDMAN/STRAIGHT EDGE.
49ERS SUPER BOWL HOSOI SKATEBOARDS AD. 1989. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
LAX FULL PIPES. EARLY ’90S. © CESARIO “BLOCK” MONTANO.
RAMP RIOT IN BELLS BEACH, AUSTRALIA. HAND-DRAWN MARK “GONZ” GONZALES ART. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
AT KELLY BELMAR’S POOL. FRONTSIDE INVERT. 1991. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
INDY AIR. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
PHOTO SHOOT WITH RHYTHM AND CLASSIC IN FRONT OF THE SANCTUARY CHURCH. 2008. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
ALO OHANA FAMILY REUNION: JENNIFER, ME, MOM, AND RHYTHM. 2005.
POPS AND ME. 2009. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
MOTHER’S MEMORIAL SERVICE AND SCATTERING OF ASHES AT LANIKAI BEACH, OAHU. 2010.
TRUE LOVE. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
HURLEY PRO. COASTAL CARNAGE IN HUNTINGTON BEACH. 2011. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
/> RESUME
NAME: CHRISTIAN ROSHA HOSOI
BORN: OCTOBER 5, 1967, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
WORK HISTORY: SKATEBOARDER, 1977–PRESENT
• 1ST IN 1979 OPEN GOLD CUP SERIES
• IN VENTED HAMMER HEADS HAPES KATEBOARD, 1984
• BROKE TEN-FOOT BARRIER, HOLIDAY HAVOC, ANAHEIM CONVENTION CENTER, 1985
• 1ST IN 1985 NSA SUMMER SERIES 5 (CANADA): PRO VERT
• 1ST IN 1985 NSA
• IN VENTED CHRIST AIR, 1986
• IN VENTED ROCKET AIR, 1986
• 2ND IN 1986 EXPO ’86 (CANADA): VERT
• 1ST IN 1987 THRASHER SAVANNAH SLAMMA I: STREET
• 2ND IN 1987 VISION RAMP N RAGE DOWN SOUTH: VERT
• 1ST IN 1988 VISION SKATE ESCAPE: VERT
• 2ND IN 1988 OHIO SKATEOUT: STREET
• 1ST IN 1988 RAMP RIOT (AUSTRALIA): VERT
• 1ST IN 1988 TITUS WORLD CUP (GERMANY): VERT
• 2ND IN 1988 TITUS WORLD CUP (GERMANY): STREET
• 2ND IN 1988 VISION BLUEGRASS AGGRESSION SESSION: VERT
• 1ST IN 1989 NSA SAVANNAH SLAMMA III: ARENA STREET
• 2ND IN 1989 NSA GOTCHA GRIND: VERT
• 1ST IN 1989 JAPAN SLAM JAM (JAPAN): VERT
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