mi familia

Wil Denton, my dad - hugging his grandson, my nephew, Phil Hamer

I'm in Mexico this morning getting ready for my nephew's wedding. He and his fiance, Dalene, chose to get married near the water, at the Marriott, not far from Siempre Para Los Ninos, our orphanage in TJ. My dad didn't get to come, so some of us gathered for a bit of family time with mom and dad before making a run for the border... it's the kind of stuff our family does... do what we can to include mom and dad in all the big events, even when they won't remember them an hour later. We want to be with them. Looking at this photo from my phone this morning I realized that Phil will remember.

Someday he and Dalene will look back on their final moments before marital bliss- taking time to hang out with grandparents. Dalene's grandmother came all the way from S. Africa for the wedding... friends have gathered from across the country, around the world, and the family continues to grow. God's Good.

Hope good things are happening in your family today; that it's growing. At dinner together last night, laughing, someone said we looked like a gathering of the UN... that's OK with us.

congrats Phil and Dalene!

Uncle Eric

I'm Going On!

Mark and Wil Denton - February 8, 2008


I come from "good stock." A family of preachers, story tellers, followers of Christ with a shared history in the church of God: general offices in Anderson, Indiana... headquarters in Heaven. Debi and I spend every Friday with mom and Dad, neither have been in good health for a couple of years and they live with my brother Tim and his wife. Yesterday, Uncle Mark was down from Washington, where he's retired wonderfully with his wife Barbara, and we had the chance to do what we do when we get together: talk about the church, tell stories and sing... it was a good day. The kind of day you walk away from with a very real understanding that it may be the last time you spend a day like that with those people... wish you could have been with us.

Dad, in the red/striped shirt is 93, Uncle Mark, in the dark shirt, is 90. They were born in Princeton, Indiana: 927 N. Seminary St., two of the three youngest of 9 children. Dad and three of his brothers were called to preach: John, Glenn, Dad and Mark, built churches, led revivals, preached camp meetings from one end of the country to the other. Aunt Lois, the youngest of the family, who like Aunt Helen, sang beautifully for The Lord as well, died almost 20 years ago in Anderson. Uncle Glenn died last summer at the age of 95. Dad and Uncle Mark remain, living legacies. I digress... but God is so very, very good.

When I was a kid, the times we were all together were some of the highlights of my life... they all seemed like giants... lovable dad's, normal guys when they were a part... but together... almost untouchable. I think all my cousins would agree, when "the boys" began to sing, preach, tell their stories... it was a little like watching Clark Kent run into a phone booth only to fly out with the earth shaking power of SuperMan! Friday afternoon, dad and Uncle Mark sang again, beautifully... I tried to sing along... but I'm from a much more uncertain generation... the generation that inherited the mission, the music and thankfully The Message. But even still, in their 90's, when the song got going, I knew to go quiet and along with my children, now adults also, smile and enjoy the fact that we were just in the same family as these guys that God has used so well. He is too Good.

As the afternoon came to a close, we sang one more old song: I'm Going On. Hadn't heard it in years... but our hearts and voices swelled, all of us together as we came to the chorus: "I'm going on, I'm going on, until The Final Triumph, I'm going on. I'm going on, I'm going on, until The Final Triumph... I'm going on!" 90 and 93: 183 years of life- singing out loud, doing their best to rattle the windows, each one arm in the air, victory in their eyes, in their voices, most importantly, in their hearts... it was easy to see that they meant to go right on.

Our family- the Denton's -has not been spared heartache. We carry our fair share even still. But we've been given the church... somewhere at some point... each of us has had the opportunity to do what so many others have done... to "see the church." We've seen her at work in our families: spotless and radiant, filled with power and spreading glory in the midst of our mess. My testimony of my Friday afternoon is a simple one- "I've seen the church!" And she's beautiful, worth working a lifetime for, purchased with The Precious Blood of Jesus - One - in His Love and Grace, wonderful in the witness of the redeemed... I have seen the church! Glory!

In so many of my weekly updates about our work in Mexico, Los Angeles, Riverside and even Kenya, I find myself closing with these simple words- "wish you'd been there." Friday afternoon, wish you'd been there. Thankful our kids, Julia and John, had taken their afternoons to join us- it was fun to watch them use their phones to make video of their Grandpa and Great Uncle Mark singing... even more fun to see the child like wonder in their eyes and realize... even if they didn't recognize it right then... that they were seeing the church as well... inspired and thankful... when we hugged one another and headed out our separate ways, I left with a song in my heart- hope it's yours today - "I'm going on!" The Final Triumph is yet to come.

blessings,

Eric

Good Advice for Men

http://health.msn.com/centers/mensexualhealth/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100164474>1=10105

That's me, my father and my cousin Jim Minnis at Dad's 90th birthday celebration. Dad will be 93 in September, Lord Willing. Jim's in his 70's... may even be pushing 80... me, I'll be 53 in July. Around the world, in all but the most developed nations, all 3 of us would be considered old enough to be wise... having lived well past our prime and shared in blessings most never imagine. The Bible says a man's time on earth is three score and ten - that's 70 years -Dad always said anything beyond that "was just gravy." Dad and Jim are well into their "gravy" years and doing their best to enjoy it every step of the way.

Good article posted above on the top ten ways men die. Which means, if you're a man, this may be your final scenario. Interestingly enough, old age wasn't listed. Guess no one just gets old and dies anymore. I've watched loving friends in their 90's one over 100 die and people still ask me- "What'd they die of?" Doctor's have to write something down I suspect. We all want to have a reason for everything. But I try my best to be honest and say- "They were old and ready to go." There's no shame in that.

I suspect one of the reasons old age isn't listed as a cause is because there's no solution for it other than salvation. Old age is one of the few things that makes Heaven seem like a wonderful welcome home at the end of a day that stretched a little too long. That said, the advice given for prevention of almost every other cause of death in men was the same: eat right and exercise. (In a desire to meet all standards of full disclosure and to be completely honest, I wrote this blog while eating left over oreo cookies for breakfast and dreaming of a great big root beer... after not exercising one lick this morning.)

My Dad and cousin Jim are two of the hardest working men I've ever met. Both could work me into the ground and take pride in doing it, even when I had the advantage of age. Both grew up athletes and played ball, fished, walked, golfed and accepted almost any challenge that came their way- late into life. Both have lived adventures most of us will never dream about- while serving The Lord in parts of the world most will never learn to pronounce much less ever hope to see. Their examples are living legacies to our family, and I mean it in the biggest sense of the term when I talk about our family... we're a BIG family... that have liberated the rest of us to live out our dreams and calling from God. We've been blessed.

Eating right... they taught us to love peach cobbler, to never pass the opportunity to eat good Mexican food together and to understand that the best food is food shared with family and friends. I still believe that's the way to eat "right." You might live longer avoiding biscuits and gravy but you'll rarely live better.

Exercise... again, something to be shared with friends. Golfing, softball, basketball, fishing, whatever... get outside, get outside together and get outside often. These guys didn't golf together for weeks or months but for lifetimes. Life is an investment in each other- in good times and bad -don't let the challenges keep you from exercising every opportunity to have a little fun with friends. It doesn't matter what the exercise is... just enjoy it with someone... enjoy life and you'll live longer.

Exercise and eat right... do it all with friends and when the end comes, however it might come, whether we make the top ten or not... we'll know we've given it our best and given it all for God. He's too good.

blessings,

Eric

It's Easter

I have lots of Easter stories. When you grow up a preacher's kid, Easter's a pretty big day. Sunrise services, both as a kid and as a pastor - to times when I was far from God and needing to find my way back home, Easter and the cross have been a hinge point, not only in history, but in my personal life as well.

There was the season I was living on the Atlantic coast of France, surfing. We left the water mid-day to see what the celebration was all about. People were everywhere from what was then the sleepy town of Biarritz down to St. Jean De Luz: bells were ringing, it seemed like we were missing out on a great party. Still dripping ocean, clad in a wetsuit, board under my arm, I stopped an old man and asked him "What's going on? Why all the activity?" Looking at me as if I was from another planet, he responded with a huge smile, one arm waving in the air, "It's Easter. Christ is Risen!"

I hadn't even known it was Sunday.

Saturday, "fine tuning" my Easter message – life times away from that lost young man who didn’t know what day it was - I heard a familiar voice in the next room: my father's. Not his post stroke voice, but clear, confident and at his best, telling his story of salvation. Pastor Ken, who I've worked with at Central Community for most of our years in ministry, was clearing through some old video and had come across this one from several years ago. I had been preaching on salvation and had asked a few people to share their stories as part of the message - including dad. The video's now a priceless keepsake, the moment , when my heart caught in my throat, tears welled up in my eyes, well before I walked into the other room to look at the screen, a favorite Easter memory.

Ken and my dad have been close for decades. They love each other. When Ken was an aspiring pastor and college student, dad was his pastor. Ken’s younger sister Leta, now with the Lord, had spent time as dad’s secretary. Ken and his brother Gene used to sing in church together with dad. They have a bunch of shared memories, even some Easter memories, some I share and at least one when I was out in the world and didn’t know it was Easter. Once, when dad was sick and in the hospital, he held my hand, (I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this), spoke quietly and said “Don’t ever lose Ken- he’s a gift, he’s such a big part of your work.” Truer words were never spoken.

Our family has this Easter memory of dad because Ken saved it and brought it out just when we needed it. Thanks Ken.

Dad’s testimony is worthy of your time: whether you’ve ever met him or not. At his core, he’s the son of a working man, a coal miner. Even at 92 years old, that’s important to him. Even more, he’s a child of God and his words carry weight. They touched my heart this morning as I prepared for our Easter services: I hope they touch yours as well. What a great Easter memory.