I was born on the beautiful island of Jamaica. My mother became pregnant with me at 18. My father was in his early 20s and had already had three children with two different women by the time I was born. Fully encapsulated in the violence of Kingston, my parents were simply trying to survive each 24 hours they were gifted by God. My parents weren’t in a loving relationship. My father never saw healthy masculinity. His father, who was also abusive, passed away when he was 12 or 13 years old.
I was not supposed to intern in the New York City Council. That summer internship was not supposed to turn into 7 years of service. And I was not supposed to find myself in the New York State Assembly as a Chief of Staff. My life is evidence of the graces of God when He wants to show forth his handiwork, not just in the way my faith has impacted my personal life, but also in the way that the church catalyzed my leadership.
In communities across the country — especially Black communities — the Church has long stood as more than just a place of worship. It has been a sanctuary of safety, strategy, and strength. It has nurtured generations of speakers, organizers, and servants who went on to become educators, business owners, and civil rights pioneers. The Church has always been central to the development of civic leaders.
As political systems evolve and injustice persists, one question must be asked: Is the Church still actively producing political leaders? I believe the answer is and must continue to be “yes”. But in order for this to happen, the Church has to recommit itself to this part of its calling and our public sphere must continue to welcome and celebrate these leaders and the church as the place of their formation. Now more than ever, we need leaders in our public life who are not only smart and strategic, but who are grounded in conviction, integrity, and community values. The Church has the tools to shape such leaders.
My career in government began in 2015. I was wrapping up my spring semester while nurturing a deep love and passion for politics that was planted in me as I became intrigued by Green Party candidate David Cobb during the 2004 presidential election. I found myself praying to God as summer approached about how I wanted to serve my community. I had not been exposed to local government. I had no clue that in New York City there were 51 City Council Members across the five boroughs. I had no awareness of the 63 State Senators and 150 Assembly members in the New York State Legislature. I didn’t know that New York City has one of the largest municipal budgets in the world, let alone that New York State has a billion-dollar budget.
But God heard my prayer, and that summer I got an internship opportunity in a City Councilperson’s office. And when I got the opportunity, I was ready to excel.
I had learned how to bring a heart of compassion to local community service. It’s something I learned attending a small storefront church with my grandmother. This storefront did not have a lot of resources, but it was a safe haven for people desperate for care. It was led by a husband and wife, an older adult couple who had gone into ministry after retirement, looking to bring Christ to people on the northeast side of Rochester, NY.
My grandmother and I later transitioned to a church where the Pastor and his family owned the church building and the house we lived in. This COGIC (Church of God in Christ) church is not only where I was introduced to the gospel, but it is where I truly developed as a leader. There I danced my first praise dance and I sang in the choir, which helped develop the confidence to get up and inspire people. There, I spoke my first sermon and developed as a public speaker. There, I got Christmas gifts when my family struggled to make ends meet. It’s where I learned networking and the importance of building community ties. There, I helped my grandmother organize the church smorgasbord fundraisers. Through evangelism ministry, I learned the techniques of community engagement. And there, I became a youth leader, which allowed me to run events, lead teams, resolve conflict and shepherd a vision.
It was the genesis of my leadership. My service in church prepared me for leadership in government.
The church has long been a source of public leaders. The Civil Rights Movement in the United States was filled with leaders who had been formed in churches, leaders who were able to use the content of scripture and the cadence of the pulpit to advocate for peace and freedom. Institutions like the Southern Christian Leadership Conference made it clear: faith and justice go hand-in-hand. The Church provided more than a moral compass for leaders. It was a launching pad. Community members didn’t just pray there — they strategized, taught civic literacy, registered voters, and ran for office. They understood that public policy impacts people’s lives just as much as Sunday sermons.
The Church, historically known as a moral compass, a place of refuge, and a guiding light in communities, has in many ways drifted from its rightful place in the world. As someone who has spent their entire life in “the church,” in my adulthood, the church seems to be absent. It’s as if it has gone into the shadows. As society grows increasingly complex — socially, politically, and spiritually — the Church appears to be wrestling with an identity crisis. Rather than serving as a bold, transformative presence, it too often functions as a passive observer or, worse, a participant in the very systems it was called to challenge. The Church has moved from its original mandate, and leadership development is a key way for it to reclaim its place as a transformative force in the world.
I look around today and see something backwards in our public life. We go searching for leaders in all the fancy places — Ivy League schools, big consulting firms, political dynasties. But these institutions are good at making people who know how to win, not necessarily how to serve. They teach strategy but not sacrifice. Meanwhile, we ignore the youth minister who’s been managing volunteers and stretching dollars for years. We overlook the church administrator who’s kept the lights on through three recessions.
This is costing us. Every time we pass over a church-formed leader because they don’t have the “right” degree or didn’t come up through the “right” political machine, we’re losing something precious. These are people who already know that policy isn’t just paper — it’s the mother at the food pantry, it’s the teenager looking for direction, it’s the formerly incarcerated father trying to rebuild. Church leaders have been doing constituent services since before they knew that’s what it was called. Every Sunday, every Wednesday night Bible study, every community meal — that’s public service.
The truth is, a youth pastor who’s coordinated mission trips on no budget while keeping parents happy and teens engaged is a person who has every skill we claim we want in government. The trustee who balanced the church books when offerings were down understands fiscal responsibility in their bones. And what makes these leaders special is that they learned to wash feet in obscurity as they learned to shake hands in a crowd. They know what servant leadership looks like because they’ve been living it.
So what needs to change? First, the gatekeepers — the political parties, the donors, the kingmakers — need to expand their vision. Stop asking only “Where did you go to school?” and start asking “Where did you learn to serve?” Stop being impressed only by who someone knows in Washington or Albany and start noticing who shows up when the community is hurting. That church mother who’s organized the community Thanksgiving dinner for 20 years? She knows more about coalition building than most campaign managers.
Second, church-formed leaders themselves need to step forward with confidence. I think what would have happened if I didn’t take that City Council internship because I didn’t have a fancy degree or because I didn’t know anybody “important”. I knew how to listen, how to organize, how to stretch resources, how to bring people together — everything I learned in church. We need to stop apologizing for where we learned leadership and start recognizing it as the asset it is.
And finally, we need to tell these stories. Every time a church-formed leader makes good policy, solves a community problem, or serves with integrity, that’s a testimony that needs sharing, not just in the church newsletter but in the public square. Because when people see what church-formed leadership looks like in action — leadership that serves rather than dominates, that includes rather than divides, that sacrifices rather than schemes — they’ll want more of it.
Leadership doesn’t begin at City Hall — it often begins in the choir loft, the fellowship hall, and the prayer circle. The Church has always been fertile ground for visionary leaders. We now need to plant seeds that can grow into key staff, council members, mayors, commissioners, and policy advocates.
Editor’s note: This essay was first originally by For the Good of the Public.