In Loving Memory of Pastor Eric Daniel

film photograph courtesy of Zachary Hurlburt

I spent the entirety of my adolescence in the loving arms of a pentecostal Christian church on a hill on the outskirts of Napa. It is still there. A living, breathing organism. It’s aptly called Hillside Christian Center. When I was probably ten or eleven years old, my mother drove me there against my will and endured my kicking and screaming. We were trying a new church, and though I was not thrilled with our previous one, I was having a very hard time accepting the pivot. It was what I knew and I was not ready for change. That day at Hillside, we were welcomed warmly and I felt included and seen by church members for the first time in my young life. A beautiful and bright young-adult intern connected with me over guitar and she played the D chord funny with her middle finger on the second fret of the G string. They had a drum set. Just a few hours after my mother forced me into a new church, she was having a difficult time getting me back into the car. I fell in love with Hillside the first day I met her, and I devoted much of the following decade of my life to her.

If I’m not mistaken, the Daniels were already at the helm when I arrived. A young, attractive couple shepherding a congregation of about 200–400 Christ Followers. They were in charge of the grown-up church, which was serious and boring. From sixth to eighth grade, I spent at least two days a week in the youth program, where I was quickly integrated into the band. On Wednesday nights, a bunch of us local teenagers filled a small room and learned about the Gospel. We played loud Christian rock music (I was the drummer, speeding every song up about 10 bpm), and we danced and prayed and laughed and cried and listened. The youth leaders organized missionary trips, out-of-state youth conferences, local Christian rock shows, Six Flags adventures, and more. There was a core group of us that came every week, maybe 25 or so, and our highest attendance must have been 75–100. I met my best friend Zach through Hillside's youth program and we have been mostly inseparable ever since.

I became more involved with the adult services going into high school. Led by Ronnie and Gina Milne, our worship band consisted of an eclectic bunch, including myself and Zach, who played piano. We were the youngest musicians in the band. We were also among the most talented, which is why we played in “big church” at such a young age. That was when Pastor Eric first made an appearance in my life.

Pastor Eric was intimidating. His intelligence and his commitment to God were unmatched. He carried himself the way a well-known politician might, with professionalism and care. He was anything but casual. He dressed so perfectly for every occasion it was almost comical. Never flashy, just handsome. Pastor Eric had style, which contrasted starkly with my dad… Maybe that’s why his wardrobe is so memorable to me.

As lead pastor of one of the largest congregations in town, Pastor Eric had a busy schedule and many responsibilities. I never once saw him stumble. From my perspective as a high school student, nobody was more reliable, stable, or consistent than he was. He was as sturdy as the foundation of his faith. He lived an intentional life and carried himself with confidence and grace. No controversy ever stained his reputation. He seemed free of impulsivity. Everybody respected Pastor Eric. Calm, cool, collected, committed. And so very humble and selfless, constantly practicing what he preached from the pulpit.

It wasn’t until I was a junior and senior in high school that I made more meaningful contact with him. By then, I was leading worship every week at youth group and occasionally on Sunday mornings and special services. The most connected I ever felt to P.E. was on stage in that auditorium. I would sing from my heart in between songs. There were moments when Pastor Eric would abandon the tight schedule we normally followed down to the minute. He would usher the congregation into quiet moments of prayer and reflection or ask the band to repeat a specific portion of a song. He was deeply attuned spiritually and knew how to curate meaningful moments when he felt the Spirit move. He and I communicated and collaborated often without a single spoken word. I was young, and I’m sure there were moments I took too much liberty, but he allowed me to explore, and I remember times when it felt like we were in sync.

Over the years, Pastor Eric officiated both my sister's wedding and my grandmother's funeral, and played a sizable role in my family's life, sometimes providing counsel in times of hardship. But beyond Sunday mornings and outside of meaningful ceremonies, he and I didn’t connect one-on-one with much frequency. I had several spiritual mentors over the years (who were under his leadership), but he was never really one of them. We weren’t close, but we were very familiar, always in close proximity, and shared the same passion for that church and for serving God. We did meet occasionally around the time I was graduating from high school (by the skin of my teeth!). By then, I was stubborn, impulsive, and critical. I think we had some serious conversations where he had to reel me in a bit. It’s hard to recall specifics, but I was not exactly a walk in the park, and we had our moments of friction. I think he tried to connect with me around that time, and I pushed him away. He took me to coffee once; it was awkward and messy. He offered me a stipend, and I declined, choosing instead to move to Colorado the day after graduation.

After a brief, blurry stint in Colorado Springs, I returned home and became an intern at Hillside under the leadership of a new worship pastor on staff—a position I might have held myself by then had I been more disciplined and agreeable and hadn't left. Pastor Eric and his staff welcomed me back with open arms. But after a short while, I grew impatient, dissatisfied, frustrated, and enormously confrontational. So I took a job as a music director at the Presbyterian church downtown, where my faith seemed to evaporate before my eyes. I was already on the verge of being fired, but I quit after a heated argument with the pastor, and shortly thereafter my father died in a bicycle accident.

After a severe panic attack, several cigarettes, and a very solemn seven-hour drive home from LA, I arrived at the hospital where my dad was on life support. It was 3 AM. Earlier that night, upon hearing the news, Pastor Eric dropped what he was doing (I think he may have been buying a car in a nearby city?) and drove straight to the hospital. He showed up immediately, and his calming presence meant so much to my mother. He was there for us on the worst night of our lives.

Years later, he and his wonderful wife Angela came to one of my performances in downtown Napa. At that time, I was sober and in recovery, but I was still very broken and angry. It was palpable. I performed with so much passion and raw emotion, and in between songs my dry and cynical sense of humor revealed itself to spiritual leaders from my past for the first time—a strange and beautiful collision of worlds. Much like Stephen Dedalus in “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man,” I had traded a life in the Church for something much more wild and risky: a life in art. Eric and Angela Daniel witnessed a side of me they had only glimpsed before, and I would be lying if I said that was anything less than very special to me. After my set, Angela embraced me tightly and smiled with tears in her eyes as she delivered only the kindest remarks. Pastor Eric stood beside her, fully engaged, then followed suit, hugging me and congratulating me. That night, I felt like they saw the most authentic version of me. This hugely important spiritual duo from a past life came to hear my songs. They listened intently and made me feel celebrated afterward. I did not expect that. But it meant so much, and it always will.

Pastor Eric was a loving father and husband, a deeply committed pastor, a devoted follower of Christ, a loyal friend, and an incredible role model to so many. His ministry has touched thousands of people over the years and he shepherded Hillside with so much passion and grace. He really was very special. I can’t emphasize that enough. His impact was enormous and his loss is, too. I know that his family, his community, and his congregation are hurting badly right now, and my thoughts are with Angela and their children.

He showed me at a young age what it means to be a good man, and I am forever grateful for the important role he has played in my life. May he rest in peace, and may his loved ones find solace amid their grief. His passing comes two days after the nine-year anniversary of my father’s death, reminding me of the fragility and preciousness of this short and beautiful life.

For details about Pastor Eric's battle with cancer and last days, updates from his family, and information about the upcoming memorial service, visit this link