I am so glad that I went to The Fish Reunion in March. I almost didn’t go because I had an Iwa Board meeting on the same day that had been scheduled well before I knew the date of the reunion. But Iwa’s Board Chair, Dave Akiyama, thought we (he and I and any other Board members who wanted to) should go to the reunion. So we shifted the Board meeting to a different Saturday, and we both attended the reunion. And as I said, I am so glad I went.
It wasn’t just because I enjoyed meeting and reconnecting with a lot of people I hadn’t seen for years. Or just because the food catered was excellent (I even contributed my favorite dish—chicken katsu from Gardena’s L & L Hawaiian Barbecue—after a call went out for potluck food when they decided, in the spirit of The Fish, to make it a free-will-donations-only event rather than a paid-tickets-required one).
It wasn’t just because the worship with Wes Terasaki songs and other oldies-but-goodies led by Jimi Yamagishi and Denny Sato (who came all the way from Seattle to lead us in the favorites he originated) touched the heart and brought back good memories. Or just because the Looking Up band with original members Jeff Yota, Russell Takaki, Cliff Makaena, and Randy Kojaku sounded so good after all these years (and I felt connected to Russell and Cliff because we were in the same graduating class at Gardena High; and to Randy because we both were Gardena boys going to the same East Coast Ivy League university at the same time; and to Jeff because he used to live down the street from me).
And it wasn’t just because the featured speaker, Fred Tanizaki, Associate Pastor at Wintersburg Presbyterian Church (who also happens to be a Gardena boy) gave such an appropriate personal testimony that captured what The Fish was about—opening up unchurched people to the living and real Jesus Christ. Or just because the others who got up and spoke at the “open mike” moved us to thank the Lord for The Fish and all He did through it. Or just because the slideshow captured so well the sights, the feelings, and the spirit of those bygone days. Or just because the silent “home movie” that included footage of an actual gathering at The Fish that yet another Gardena boy--Jon Kaji—shot when video was hardly heard of, was SO entertaining (emphasis on the “SO”).
No. It wasn’t just because of those things that I am so glad I went—although those things really did add to the whole experience. I think what made me so glad I went was that I had the sense that I was participating in something very special. It was like standing on sacred ground. The Lord had done something that had significance and impact in our Japanese- and Asian American community, and we were remembering and honoring Him for it. It was an important piece of our community’s history that we were commemorating, and it was such an honor and privilege for me to participate in it.
I was actually around when The Fish got started. I remember first meeting Luther Masumoto before he became the co-founder and first overseer of The Fish, at the JEMS Mt. Hermon Conference in 1972. I was a teenage boy in high school. He was a young man out in the “real world.” Being from San Diego, he was not typical of the Japanese Americans I was used to relating to. To me he looked like a long-haired hippie-type with a moustache and beard. When I try to picture him back then, I see him in my mind’s eye as wearing a green army jacket—whether or not he really did, I don’t know. So I think of him as someone who might have been in the army. He looked to me to have a glazed look on his face, so I remember thinking he must have been on drugs at one time. But there was one thing that gave me a positive feeling about him. His smile. Something in his smile brightened him up and gave him an aura of warmth and friendliness, and approachability, despite all the other things that made him seem hard for me to relate to.
The next time I remember seeing him was not too long after that, maybe a couple of months later. I had heard that a Christian drop-in center sponsored by JEMS was opening in Gardena, right around the corner and down the street from my house, literally. So I went with some friends to check it out one afternoon. And who did I find there? That hippie-army-druggie guy with the great smile from San Diego that I met at Mt. Hermon. He was sitting on a rolled out sleeping bag on the floor, so I wondered if he was actually sleeping there, or perhaps even making it his home.
And I guess that’s what it became--Luther’s House. The Fish was a place where people could drop in and hang out “at home” with a laid back guy who had experienced “life” and who was willing to discuss life’s issues (we called it “rapping”), play music, study the Bible, talk about Jesus, or pray with whoever walked in the door. It was a place where people could experience Jesus and his love through people who loved, worshiped, and served him.
Although I wasn’t a regular at The Fish myself (my usual hangout place was my church—Gardena Valley Baptist [GVBC]—where I could be found almost every day of the week in high school), I did go to some of the gatherings and appreciated what the Lord was doing there.
And when Howard Yim came on the scene to lead the ministry, I was on the east coast for school and work. So I didn’t know him very well. But I did get a chance to meet him on several occasions when I came home for visits.
When I picture Howard in my mind, I see an older guy (that is, maybe 10 years older than me) with long, straight black hair and a moustache, preaching with a Bible in one hand. He was a dynamic speaker with a confident, engaging style. It was no wonder that under his leadership, the ministry of The Fish extended beyond the borders of Gardena into L.A. and the O.C.
Fred Tanizaki’s personal testimony at the reunion was especially fascinating to me. I didn’t know Fred when I was in high school, but I knew his younger brother, Jim, through Gardena High’s cross country and track team and through church. I remember when Jim dedicated his life to Christ at the South Bay New Life Crusade to which his Gardena Evening Optimist basketball teammate and my good friend, Paul Hayase, invited him. Jim was one of the first to come to know Christ through the outreach efforts of the members of our youth group at GVBC—which was less than 10 people at the time—who were getting serious about our faith in Christ and about sharing Him with our friends.
I knew of Fred through Jim but had pretty much zero contact with him. When I actually saw Fred in person for the first time, I thought he looked like a “hood”—a bad boy—the kind with greased, slicked-back hair, who wore a black leather jacket and sunglasses and had a don’t-mess-with-me edge. So I was surprised when I heard years later that Fred was going to Fuller Seminary (“Fred?? Seminary!?! Since when was he even a Christian?”). Fred had made some turn in his life while I was out east. I always wondered how it happened. And at the reunion, it was great that I finally got to hear his story.
Fred recounted how his mother was very worried about Jim because Jim was saying strange things like how he didn’t have to worry about his future because he was going to just be taken to heaven. (We talked a lot about Christ’s Second Coming in those days and thought that because so many prophesies about it were coming true in our generation, we wouldn’t have to worry about our education, our work, etc. in the future because He was coming back soon). As Fred was the older brother, his mother told him to find out about this crazy thing his younger brother had gotten himself into. (His mother, by the way, is now a long-time, faithful member of GVBC’s Nichigo congregation).
So what did Fred do? One night, he ended up at The Fish. And he experienced something he would never forget. What seemed to leave a lasting impression on him was his being in the same room with all these people who had something he didn’t have—life, love, and a relationship with God that they could sing about. It was something that stuck with him and set him on the path that finally led to his committing his life to Christ.
And Fred’s experience really shows why The Fish had such an important ministry. People like Fred, who might not feel comfortable stepping foot inside a church, might feel more at ease about going to a place like The Fish. It wasn’t “church,” but it was a place where people could feel free to explore things about God without needing to know how to “do church” before going. It was an informal hangout place that encouraged people to “rap” about their lives and the relevant issues in life, and to find out how God related to their lives and life’s issues.
And for Asian Americans who tend to be group- and family-oriented, it was important to have a place where people could experience Christ through people who knew Him—through Christian community. Relational people, as Asian Americans are, tend to be convinced about the truth of something more because of who says it than because of what is said. So when people like Fred encounter Christians who have a genuine relationship with Christ, and they experience a taste of the love and unity, and the presence of God, through the fellowship of believers, they sense with their hearts the truth of the gospel. And later on they can catch up with their minds what they already sense is true in their hearts.
I think I would be neglectful if I failed to mention that I am so glad that we shifted the date of the Iwa Board meeting not just because I got to be at the Reunion, but because Dave could be there. He really did Iwa proud. He was one of the last ones to go up to the open mike to speak. Having been involved in The Fish’s ministry particularly through the music he brought to it, such as the worship music of the band InSpirit for which he played the drums, he knew how The Fish had touched many lives. And so he made an impassioned plea for those of us attending the reunion to think about the people we knew who weren’t there and may no longer be following the Lord, and to reach out to them. At Iwa’s Board meetings Dave often tears up when he talks about all the people in our Japanese- and Asian American community who still don’t know the Lord. And to Dave and his plea, I could only say, “Amen!”
The Fish Reunion for me was a wonderful celebration of a time in the history of our Japanese- and Asian American Christian community when God formed and grew a ministry that had the focus of reaching the unreached in our community. Times have changed but the need for ministries like it has not.
The Reunion was also a reminder that the work is not done yet. We need more ministries that make it easy for seekers in our community to experience the living and real Jesus in informal, “unchurchy” settings, through people who know him. And we need to ask the Lord what he would want us to do now, in this day and age, that carries forward the work and spirit of The Fish.
Perhaps The Fish Reunion can be more than just a nostalgic journey into the past, and can be a launching pad for something the Lord may want to do now in our community and in the future. What can be done and who will do it, I don’t know. So I’m going to pray about it and see where the Lord will take it from here. Perhaps you can too. Can I get an “Amen?”
To view a slideshow, read a newspaper article announcing The Fish's ministry in 1972, and to see the program from the Reunion, go here.
It wasn’t just because I enjoyed meeting and reconnecting with a lot of people I hadn’t seen for years. Or just because the food catered was excellent (I even contributed my favorite dish—chicken katsu from Gardena’s L & L Hawaiian Barbecue—after a call went out for potluck food when they decided, in the spirit of The Fish, to make it a free-will-donations-only event rather than a paid-tickets-required one).
It wasn’t just because the worship with Wes Terasaki songs and other oldies-but-goodies led by Jimi Yamagishi and Denny Sato (who came all the way from Seattle to lead us in the favorites he originated) touched the heart and brought back good memories. Or just because the Looking Up band with original members Jeff Yota, Russell Takaki, Cliff Makaena, and Randy Kojaku sounded so good after all these years (and I felt connected to Russell and Cliff because we were in the same graduating class at Gardena High; and to Randy because we both were Gardena boys going to the same East Coast Ivy League university at the same time; and to Jeff because he used to live down the street from me).
And it wasn’t just because the featured speaker, Fred Tanizaki, Associate Pastor at Wintersburg Presbyterian Church (who also happens to be a Gardena boy) gave such an appropriate personal testimony that captured what The Fish was about—opening up unchurched people to the living and real Jesus Christ. Or just because the others who got up and spoke at the “open mike” moved us to thank the Lord for The Fish and all He did through it. Or just because the slideshow captured so well the sights, the feelings, and the spirit of those bygone days. Or just because the silent “home movie” that included footage of an actual gathering at The Fish that yet another Gardena boy--Jon Kaji—shot when video was hardly heard of, was SO entertaining (emphasis on the “SO”).
No. It wasn’t just because of those things that I am so glad I went—although those things really did add to the whole experience. I think what made me so glad I went was that I had the sense that I was participating in something very special. It was like standing on sacred ground. The Lord had done something that had significance and impact in our Japanese- and Asian American community, and we were remembering and honoring Him for it. It was an important piece of our community’s history that we were commemorating, and it was such an honor and privilege for me to participate in it.
I was actually around when The Fish got started. I remember first meeting Luther Masumoto before he became the co-founder and first overseer of The Fish, at the JEMS Mt. Hermon Conference in 1972. I was a teenage boy in high school. He was a young man out in the “real world.” Being from San Diego, he was not typical of the Japanese Americans I was used to relating to. To me he looked like a long-haired hippie-type with a moustache and beard. When I try to picture him back then, I see him in my mind’s eye as wearing a green army jacket—whether or not he really did, I don’t know. So I think of him as someone who might have been in the army. He looked to me to have a glazed look on his face, so I remember thinking he must have been on drugs at one time. But there was one thing that gave me a positive feeling about him. His smile. Something in his smile brightened him up and gave him an aura of warmth and friendliness, and approachability, despite all the other things that made him seem hard for me to relate to.
The next time I remember seeing him was not too long after that, maybe a couple of months later. I had heard that a Christian drop-in center sponsored by JEMS was opening in Gardena, right around the corner and down the street from my house, literally. So I went with some friends to check it out one afternoon. And who did I find there? That hippie-army-druggie guy with the great smile from San Diego that I met at Mt. Hermon. He was sitting on a rolled out sleeping bag on the floor, so I wondered if he was actually sleeping there, or perhaps even making it his home.
And I guess that’s what it became--Luther’s House. The Fish was a place where people could drop in and hang out “at home” with a laid back guy who had experienced “life” and who was willing to discuss life’s issues (we called it “rapping”), play music, study the Bible, talk about Jesus, or pray with whoever walked in the door. It was a place where people could experience Jesus and his love through people who loved, worshiped, and served him.
Although I wasn’t a regular at The Fish myself (my usual hangout place was my church—Gardena Valley Baptist [GVBC]—where I could be found almost every day of the week in high school), I did go to some of the gatherings and appreciated what the Lord was doing there.
And when Howard Yim came on the scene to lead the ministry, I was on the east coast for school and work. So I didn’t know him very well. But I did get a chance to meet him on several occasions when I came home for visits.
When I picture Howard in my mind, I see an older guy (that is, maybe 10 years older than me) with long, straight black hair and a moustache, preaching with a Bible in one hand. He was a dynamic speaker with a confident, engaging style. It was no wonder that under his leadership, the ministry of The Fish extended beyond the borders of Gardena into L.A. and the O.C.
Fred Tanizaki’s personal testimony at the reunion was especially fascinating to me. I didn’t know Fred when I was in high school, but I knew his younger brother, Jim, through Gardena High’s cross country and track team and through church. I remember when Jim dedicated his life to Christ at the South Bay New Life Crusade to which his Gardena Evening Optimist basketball teammate and my good friend, Paul Hayase, invited him. Jim was one of the first to come to know Christ through the outreach efforts of the members of our youth group at GVBC—which was less than 10 people at the time—who were getting serious about our faith in Christ and about sharing Him with our friends.
I knew of Fred through Jim but had pretty much zero contact with him. When I actually saw Fred in person for the first time, I thought he looked like a “hood”—a bad boy—the kind with greased, slicked-back hair, who wore a black leather jacket and sunglasses and had a don’t-mess-with-me edge. So I was surprised when I heard years later that Fred was going to Fuller Seminary (“Fred?? Seminary!?! Since when was he even a Christian?”). Fred had made some turn in his life while I was out east. I always wondered how it happened. And at the reunion, it was great that I finally got to hear his story.
Fred recounted how his mother was very worried about Jim because Jim was saying strange things like how he didn’t have to worry about his future because he was going to just be taken to heaven. (We talked a lot about Christ’s Second Coming in those days and thought that because so many prophesies about it were coming true in our generation, we wouldn’t have to worry about our education, our work, etc. in the future because He was coming back soon). As Fred was the older brother, his mother told him to find out about this crazy thing his younger brother had gotten himself into. (His mother, by the way, is now a long-time, faithful member of GVBC’s Nichigo congregation).
So what did Fred do? One night, he ended up at The Fish. And he experienced something he would never forget. What seemed to leave a lasting impression on him was his being in the same room with all these people who had something he didn’t have—life, love, and a relationship with God that they could sing about. It was something that stuck with him and set him on the path that finally led to his committing his life to Christ.
And Fred’s experience really shows why The Fish had such an important ministry. People like Fred, who might not feel comfortable stepping foot inside a church, might feel more at ease about going to a place like The Fish. It wasn’t “church,” but it was a place where people could feel free to explore things about God without needing to know how to “do church” before going. It was an informal hangout place that encouraged people to “rap” about their lives and the relevant issues in life, and to find out how God related to their lives and life’s issues.
And for Asian Americans who tend to be group- and family-oriented, it was important to have a place where people could experience Christ through people who knew Him—through Christian community. Relational people, as Asian Americans are, tend to be convinced about the truth of something more because of who says it than because of what is said. So when people like Fred encounter Christians who have a genuine relationship with Christ, and they experience a taste of the love and unity, and the presence of God, through the fellowship of believers, they sense with their hearts the truth of the gospel. And later on they can catch up with their minds what they already sense is true in their hearts.
I think I would be neglectful if I failed to mention that I am so glad that we shifted the date of the Iwa Board meeting not just because I got to be at the Reunion, but because Dave could be there. He really did Iwa proud. He was one of the last ones to go up to the open mike to speak. Having been involved in The Fish’s ministry particularly through the music he brought to it, such as the worship music of the band InSpirit for which he played the drums, he knew how The Fish had touched many lives. And so he made an impassioned plea for those of us attending the reunion to think about the people we knew who weren’t there and may no longer be following the Lord, and to reach out to them. At Iwa’s Board meetings Dave often tears up when he talks about all the people in our Japanese- and Asian American community who still don’t know the Lord. And to Dave and his plea, I could only say, “Amen!”
The Fish Reunion for me was a wonderful celebration of a time in the history of our Japanese- and Asian American Christian community when God formed and grew a ministry that had the focus of reaching the unreached in our community. Times have changed but the need for ministries like it has not.
The Reunion was also a reminder that the work is not done yet. We need more ministries that make it easy for seekers in our community to experience the living and real Jesus in informal, “unchurchy” settings, through people who know him. And we need to ask the Lord what he would want us to do now, in this day and age, that carries forward the work and spirit of The Fish.
Perhaps The Fish Reunion can be more than just a nostalgic journey into the past, and can be a launching pad for something the Lord may want to do now in our community and in the future. What can be done and who will do it, I don’t know. So I’m going to pray about it and see where the Lord will take it from here. Perhaps you can too. Can I get an “Amen?”
To view a slideshow, read a newspaper article announcing The Fish's ministry in 1972, and to see the program from the Reunion, go here.
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