I'm standing outside the Sanctuary church on a sunny Southern California morning, waiting for Christian Hosoi to arrive.
At one time, Christian kept a lot of people waiting: He was skateboarding's biggest star, a larger-than-life figure who was the Michael Jordan of his sport and the guy Tony Hawk looked up to. He invented breathtaking aerial moves that no one had ever seen before, which catapulted him to skateboard superstardom in the early 1980s. He was the highest-paid skater at that time, flying higher than anyone in his sport — until his life came crashing down five years ago.
I'm a bit early for church, which meets in a junior college auditorium in Huntington Beach, a seaside town that takes pride in calling itself "Surf City, USA." Those arriving for church look as if they strolled in from the boardwalk. Dozens of young people parade by with several distinguishing but common characteristics: blond hair streaked with highlights from the sun, tans and ankle-length cargo shorts and sandals.
A pleasant fellow with slick-backed hair introduces himself. "Hi, I'm Pastor Jay Haizlip," he grins. "Welcome to the Sanctuary."
I return the greeting and tell him I'm here to hang out with Christian Hosoi for Breakaway magazine, which prompts a chuckle from Jay.
"Doing a story on Christian?" the pastor asked. "Well, he's got one. I know, because I'm a professional skateboarder, too. In the old days, he was in a world all by himself. He looked like a rock star, lived like a rock star and destructed like a rock star."
Yet the guy I meet and worship with seems more like a humble believer. While Christian's Amerasian good looks and lean, compact body fit the profile of an extreme athlete, his eyes reflect the peace of a man who has found truth — the absolute, eternal Truth of Jesus Christ.
After church, the pro skater and I grab a coffee at a place by the beach. I click on my tape recorder as Christian skates through the twists and turns of his life, beginning with his destructive days.
TEEN PRODIGY ON WHEELS?
Christian Rosha Hosoi's story begins in West Los Angeles where he split time living with his divorced parents. His father was an artist and surfer who bounced around some. When Christian was 12, his dad began managing a skateboard park, mainly to give Christian a place to practice. For the next few years, Christian ate, drank and slept skating, arriving when the park opened and riding until his father turned off the lights.
Everyone told Christian's father that his son was a teen prodigy on wheels. Pops, as Christian called his dad, beamed. He thought Christian's skateboarding was great, just as he thought that sharing marijuana cigarettes with his son was the definition of "bonding time." In later years, father and son would swap bong hits in the parking lot just before a big contest. That was the world Christian grew up in.
"The skateboarding realm wasn't too well organized back in the early '80s," Christian explains. "The sport had cultivated an underground image, and skaters dressed in black, wore chains, spiked their hair and reveled in their outlaw persona." Banned from city sidewalks and local parks, the only place skaters could find a ride was in their neighborhoods, after hours at schools or businesses or at the few skateboard parks. The sport was definitely fringe. (Keep in mind that skateboard video games hadn't been invented yet, and the X Games were another 15 years away.)
If skateboarding in the 1980s was all about youth and rebellion, then it was typified by the leading skateboard magazine of the day, Thrasher. Christian was often featured in the publication. Not only could no one touch him in outdoor ramp contests, but everyone could see that he skated bigger, higher and smoother than anyone on the planet. Technological advances in skateboarding — urethane wheels, trucks, bushings and bearings — enabled Christian to perform "airs" that were unimaginable just a few years earlier. When he drove up a pool wall or outdoor ramp, his ability to hang in the air defied gravity and explanation.
"In one of my signature moves," Christian says, "I would attack the ramp, drive myself high into the air, grab the skateboard with my left hand, thrust out both arms, hold the pose for a second, and get the board back under my feet before I returned to earth."
ROCKIN' ROLLER
Exploits like this created an out-of-this-world reputation for Christian, prompting photo spreads of this hotshot in all the top skateboard magazines. Overnight, Christian was the guy in the skateboarding world. Buckets of money poured in from sponsors looking to cash in on Christian's raucous image. Jimmy Z clothing, Oakley sunglasses, Converse sneakers and Swatch watches paid him enormous endorsement sums. He was knocking down $350,000 a year before he was out of high school and a time when the average NFL salary was substantially less.
By age 17, Christian was completely on his own, living life like a rock star with an entourage that followed him everywhere. He leased a Hollywood Hills home that belonged once to the famous comedian W. C. Fields and settled into a routine. "I'd go out to eat with my buddies at Kantor's on Fairfax," Christian says, " 'clubbing' until four in the morning, sleeping a few hours back at the house, and then skating with friends on a ramp I had erected in the backyard."
Christian scooped up cars like a kid who collected Micro Machines: He purchased a Jeep, a Mustang and a McClaren sports car before he even passed his driver's license test!
When he wasn't partying at home, Christian was living large on the road: jetting to Japan to skate in demos, competing on the contest circuit against the likes of a young Tony Hawk, and making in-store appearances on behalf of a long list of sponsors.
For someone who knew that what goes up must come down, Christian never saw how his life was about to crash and burn.
DUMB MOVE
It happened in 2000 when Christian did something stupid. "An acquaintance asked me to pack a pound-and-a-half of crystal methamphetamine in my luggage while flying from Los Angeles to Honolulu," Christian says. The pay would be good for making the delivery, he was told. Besides, it was a domestic flight, and the drug cops didn't search domestic flights.
Christian was familiar with crystal meth. In fact, he had been a user for several years, and drugs had taken a toll on his career. Years of partying had cost him an edge — and airtime. People were referring to him in past tense.
So Christian agreed to make the drug delivery. The cops must have gotten wind that something was happening because they stopped him in Honolulu, and before you could say "mandatory federal sentencing laws," Christian was handed a 10-year prison sentence. At the age of 32, Christian went from the penthouse to the outhouse, from a jet-set lifestyle to "three hots and a cot." This was serious stuff.
SMART MOVE
Just before Christian went to jail, his girlfriend, Jennifer, realized that she had been going the wrong way in life. She quit doing drugs and turned her life to Christ, telling Christian that he needed to do the same. Christian accompanied her to church shortly before he was incarcerated, and when he walked into prison, he carried a Bible that Jennifer had given him.
Christian devoured the Word. "I read like a madman," he says. "I committed my life to Christ shortly after beginning my long prison term."
Jennifer's uncle, Chris Swaim, a pastor, led Christian to the Lord over the phone. He clung to Romans 8:28, which says that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him. Christian joined a Bible study, was mentored by another brother in Christ, Bill Kennedy, and even sang in the prison choir.
Meanwhile, Jennifer continued to visit Christian in jail, and their love blossomed while he lived behind bars. They talked about marriage, prayed about it, and sought advice from Pastor Swaim. Finally, on June 18, 2001, they were married in the judge's chambers, after which Christian had to immediately return to jail. All the newlyweds exchanged were their vows, a warm hug and a kiss.
"People said I took a chance marrying Christian," Jennifer admits, "because he was one year into a 10-year sentence. But I felt a sense of peace. Proverbs 18:22 says, 'He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the LORD.' "
Three years later, almost to the day, Christian was released from jail on June 4, 2004, for good behavior by the same judge. Actually, Christian was released for Christian behavior. Reports from his corrections officers and dozens of letters from family members, friends and acquaintances from the skateboarding world testified to the different person he had become in Christ.
Not long after Christian got out, he hopped on a skateboard for the first time in nearly five years. The skater who lived for fame and pleasure was now doing airs for Jesus Christ.
"I'm thankful that I paid my debt to society, but it's even more important that I make peace with God," Christian says. "My Savior has forgiven my sins and all the stupid things I've ever done. And after this short life is over, I'll spend eternity with Him in heaven! That's a real reason to celebrate." 
THINK YOU'RE WILLING TO WAIT
If you read Breakaway magazine long enough, you know how important we think it is to wait until marriage to experience sex. The next time you're tempted, think about Christian and Jennifer Hosoi.
They had to be willing to wait — even though they were married! When they wed on June 18, 2001, Christian was still in prison. For the next three years, the closest they could get to each other was sitting side by side in the prison library. Touching wasn't allowed: no kissing, no getting physical. "We got to know each other on a personal level first, which really helped us grow as a couple" Jennifer says. "We learned that our relationship wasn't based on what either of us could get out of it physically."
That's good advice for any couple — married or unmarried.
