i first wrote about christian hosoi when i was newly married.
i was associate editor of a small newspaper, living with trent in a tiny bunaglow in the city with an apple tree in the backyard and a loft in which i painted and i was deep in the relapse of anorexia. at work, i sat in a swivel chair drinking nine cups of coffee and shivering because i could never get warm.
and all i wanted was to be full.
and i wrote about hosoi. how he was a phenomenal skateboarder who became rich at a young age and began smoking weed younger still.
his dad taught him how to roll his first joint at age eight, and he flew high as a kite for the next two decades, calling himself Christ and becoming a rock-star of skateboarding until he crashed hard into crystal meth. and meth became his God and landed him in jail, and it’s in prison that he owned up to his name and became a Christian.
and i was flying high on anorexia and both Christian and i thought by doing something hard enough, fast enough, we’d find it. fulfillment.
but we don’t find God. God finds us. we just need to stop running so he can.
and it’s hard to stand still in a world that spins. but listen to what hosoi says (in a book i’m giving away today): “i won everything i set out to win, had every girl i ever wanted, had friends and businesses and great parties, and all the money i could spend, and i still wasn’t satisfied.”
the day i began to eat again, i stopped starving the spirit out of my life. when i swallowed peanut butter and steak and honey on rye it was like swallowing God himself, because the most physical act, if consecrated, can become spiritual.
like biking to work, when you could drive. like hugging your child when you want to drink your coffee. like sitting on the back steps and watching the sunrise in your pajamas. like making homemade bread.
these things take time. the world says time is money. so, to offer that back to God? priceless.
sometimes i think we try to earn God. we try to be the best mom or the best skateboarder or the best preacher or the best soccer coach, but we can’t earn what grace has bought.
and all God wants is to walk with us. like he did in heaven.
(want this book? let me know what success means to you, in the comments below. and don’t forget to link up! xo)
“a rabbi once asked a prominent member of his congregation, ‘whenever I see you, you’re always in a hurry. tell me, where are you running all the time?’
the man answered, ‘i’m running after success, i’m running after fulfillment, i’m running after the reward for all my hard work.’
the rabbi responded, ‘that’s a good answer if you assume that all those blessings are somewhere ahead of you, trying to elude you, and if you run fast enough, you may catch up with them. but isn’t it possible that those blessings are behind you, that they are looking for you, and the more you run, the harder you make it for them to find you?’”
~rabbi harold s. kushner’s story (from ‘when all you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough)
~we love that you’re here. the goal of this online space is to create a broken church of sorts, a kind of community that celebrates each other’s stories. with this in mind, would you consider commenting on at least ONE OTHER PERSON’S post after linking up today? thank you so much. e.~
1. link up a post (old or new) that you feel is ‘broken’ or ‘imperfect’ or somehow redemptive
2. put the ‘imperfect prose’ button at the bottom of your post so others can find their way back here (see button code in right-hand column of my blog)
3. read other’s prose, and encourage them!
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*painting by emily wierenga; prints available at etsy shop here