A Present of Presence

As the airbus sails above the Atlantic Ocean, I cross the obligatory summer threshold from college life back to family life. Running through my reflections of all that has passed and all that will change, my mind centers on one name and the story behind it. This is an account I’ve recounted a couple of times, but it’s ever worth telling.

This is Kevin Kusunoki, my exemplar, my mentor, my brother. Throughout the past couple of years, he has seen me through thick and thin, near and far, high and low.

A few months back, he asked me to write a letter of recommendation for his application to the Disciplemaker’s Scholarship at the Dallas Theological Seminary. Honored and enthralled by the request, I dutifully dropped everything else I needed to do to brainstorm all that I had to say about his immeasurable impact on my life. After researching quite a bit on how to write a letter of recommendation, I discovered that this sort of letter was very similar to the typical high school essay, consisting of an introduction, three body paragraphs with three shining examples of when this person exemplified the criteria of the scholarship, and a conclusion to wrap it all up. Having spent the past two years with Kevin, I figured that it really should not be that hard to think of three golden moments that were the accumulations of all that he was as a discipler to me.

To my utter surprise, I found that this letter could not have been more difficult to write. After four hours of sitting dumbfounded at my desk, I realized that I could not think of a single instance that stood out above all else to encapsulate the greatness he exemplifies. There was no noteworthy deed he did, nor significant moment he shone that jumped out at me. The fact was that Kevin’s secret to discipleship was never about the coveted instances of momentary glory, but rather a constant, selfless, monotonous devotion. Reaching the eye of the brainstorm, I suddenly realized why the role of writing these letters is usually reserved for teachers, supervisors and acquaintances; such people will only see you every now and again, keeping note of your leaps and bounds towards the common goals you share, be it your education, your work ethic, your company’s projects or what have you. The fact that Kevin and I possessed a deeper bond of brotherhood made me realize that I could not show him off for what he did for me, but only for who he was to me.

So I started writing from the only known angle I could: from the beginning.

“Kevin found me as a confused international freshman in the midst of my lonely wanderings and went out of his way to pursue me. He invited me to his Bible study every Tuesday night, where I thankfully met a group of brothers in Christ who accepted me for who I was and nothing more. Tuesday nights turned into Tuesday lunches as well, where Kevin would sit down and patiently take my questions of faith, which soon turned into questions of life. In those times where all I needed was someone to confide in, all he did was listen. In the times when I felt unlovable, he recalled back to every conversation that we had before to comfort me; in the times I felt ashamed, he told me God saw within me the potential to be so much more that I was. Within a couple of weeks, I was a regular attendee of the Bible study, and within a couple of months, I was an invited member of the worship team. One year ago, he waded into the pool to baptize me. Yet our relationship only truly took off the following year, as we led a Bible study together, and as he continued to pour out everything he had into me.”

One of the most heartwarming lessons I have ever learned about the joy of walking with God is that true gospel humility does not come from making sure everybody around you knows that you’re a good Christian, but rather from making every person you engage feel more special and loved than they ever dared to imagine. Perhaps the best visualization of this relationship is that Jesus calls his followers to be salt, which functions not by drawing attention to itself, but by bringing out the flavor in whatever it touches. Shout-out to Pastor Joel Schmidgall for a fantastic sermon preached. Kevin Kusunoki is perhaps the epitome of this sermon lived.

If anything, the greatest gift that Kevin had ever given was the present of presence. From the many exciting Chi Alpha events that were hosted throughout the years to my most personal of trials, he made sure to be there to walk them through with me. In a society where love was (and still is) displayed with the occasional vibrant show of extravagance, Kevin opted for the more difficult, less attractive way of constant devotion. While everybody else was ever so concerned with showing off, Kevin placed a much greater emphasis on showing up. In the midst of our busy college lives where nobody had time, Kevin made time to listen in and listen well.

Contrary to the superficial doctrine of the letter of recommendation, I learned from Kevin never to take the constant, little acts of love for granted. To be honest, I don’t think he remembers more than half of the words he said to me that rocked my faith. I don’t think he remembers putting his arm around my shoulder during the worship service at my first Winter Retreat, how that single act gave me the confidence to sing with more conviction, to dive deeper into my relationship with God. He does not know how, when I arrived back from my grueling weeks in New York, I was wrapped in the warmest of comforts when I slowly drifted off to sleep on his couch to hear, “It’s good to have you back, man.” Yet these were all key moments that changed the course of my life in immense ways. I will be the first to say that the bulk of our time together was spent in idle chitchat over the most trivial of subjects, yet these were the times we got to know each other and learn how to serve each other well. From Kevin, I learned never to discount the small moments of wonder for the larger delusions of grandeur.

A couple of weeks back at a Christian conference, we were asked to name the most “Jesus-like” person we knew. The answer was ever so simple for me. Thanks for the seasons of togetherness, for the walks, talks, drives and jives of faith, and for being my present of presence.