Isn’t it strange to look back at old first impressions? The AIM AIR Breanna and I first grew to know and love, just a few years ago, shifted into the new faces we work alongside now. Many seasoned pilots with great stories and fantastic sayings shuffled off the stage and out of the hangar, no longer directly in our lives. I’ve stared at pictures of my first men’s retreat, realizing the faces no longer here outnumber those that are still.

Yet there are a couple constants, those missionary aviators who almost define AIM AIR because it’s so deep in them, they almost can’t bear to part ways, no matter the struggle or conflict. Even those have had to leave because of circumstances beyond their control, but the one’s God has blessed with the ability to continue serving, they remain living legends.

My first real conversation with Denny began soon after I arrived, trying to make sense of my maintenance orientation. Denny was the General Manager, and one of our supporting churches wrote him a letter about our financial support level. He came down to the shop floor to ask me the best way to respond.

I really got to know Denny through his weekly bible study of Hebrews. He led us, crawling through the book in first gear – low range, through breathtaking passages explaining the dynamics of trusting God and the freedom from the burden of law and good works. His weekly crusade against works-inspired-attitudes, those attitudes which try to impress God (and other Christians), refreshed my spirit, and laid deep questions inside myself. It’s not like pilots ever try to impress each other.

Denny’s calm and deliberate crusade didn’t end with the last sip of chai at the bible study. It was constant and consistently focused in every conversation or meeting, and his way of strengthening our relationship with our heavenly father and operating safely as airmen.

When we moved to Loki in 2010, I missed those Thursday morning gatherings. However, I recently enjoyed flying with Denny during my Cessna Caravan transition. I had a lot jumbled up in my head. Mostly problems stemming from misunderstandings and disorganization at Loki. My brain had not absorbed the aircraft very well, and while I could keep it on its three dimensional path, I could not answer many of Denny’s questions about it.

He would sigh, then say, “Well, this is not a check ride…” Then he proceeded to explain what he understood of the plane. After two days, my brain’s stamina was hitting “the wall!”

We had a couple more opportunities to fly together, and each time I walked away sharper. And we had more opportunities to share about our faith. If Denny could be put in a nutshell, that would be it: He left you sharper, and never hesitated to share about his faith in his Father.

Denny and I after landing back in Loki and his last flight over Sudan

A week ago Denny became the first AIM AIR pilot to retire from our organization. And before that, I had the privilege of flying with him for the last time over South Sudan, the very same grass and swampland he flew over as a newly minted missionary pilot in the early 80’s.

He asked if he could fly the last two legs on our way back to Lokichogio, where I would be getting off. Of course! It would be an honor. However, I couldn’t resist. “Are you still trying to build hours?” I ribbed.

I wish I could’ve taken that back. The next day he said he wanted me to do the whole flight. He didn’t need to fly anymore. That was true, but I’m pretty sentimental about certain things, and I kicked myself for what I said and the wasted opportunity.

The truth is Denny doesn’t need to build more hours. He racked up over 10,000 hours in his 30 year career. These weren’t autopilot flown, multi-crewed high altitude flights either. He started off with probably the only airplane based at Juba, Sudan, probably the toughest base for mission aviation in the world. He spent his mornings flying over featureless terrain, with his compass and watch, avoiding thunderstorms, and peering into the dust induced low visibility that plagues our region of the world. Knowing what the wind was doing to you was critical to finding the airstrip that was your destination.

Now his ministry has shifted to something much greater, but something that birthed from those years living in Sudan.

Yet while he doesn’t need to fly anymore, I can’t help but wonder how much he’ll miss it. And how much we’ll miss his presence in the hangar and his voice on the HF radio.

I want to share this article I wrote up two years ago about the airplane Denny first operated in Juba, that eventually joined AIM AIR along with Denny in the 80’s. The article eventually withered on the vine, so it feels good to pull it back into the light of day.