NEW YORK—On a recent Saturday morning atop Brooklyn’s Utica Avenue subway stop, two men in white linen tunics sang and chanted “Jesus came to save you! Repent!” to the riders emerging from underground. Across the street, half a dozen younger men in full length purple robes with silver crosses overpowered them with a sound system, preaching that you better not fornicate. God does not like fornicators.

Down on Utica and Church Avenue in East Flatbush, Rev. Terry Lee employs a different approach. An immigrant from Jamaica, Rev. Terry (who goes by his first name) is a hustling, innovative, inner city preacher, the kind of unsung ministerial hero who works tirelessly and like a renaissance man to advance the common good inside and outside his community. As a DJ with a vast library of gospel and praise music, he deploys uplifting melodies onto weary and sometimes tense crowds with an uncanny talent to lift their spirits.

Rattling a red cargo trailer, joyful gospel harmonies blasted passers-by: “When you feel like you can’t make it/ think about the power from Jesus through prayer.”

A fruit vendor nearby stopped unloading wooden crates of oranges to poke his head around the corner and see what the heck was going on. Rev. Terry was just warming up.

As the gospel music hyped the busy intersection, a small group of volunteers hung a sign and set up a shaded table with flyers, advertising the 23rd annual prayer event coordinated by Rev. Terry’s Byways and Hedges Youth for Christ Ministry taking place at the White House ellipse, the president’s park, on May 1. 

Since 1998, Rev. Terry has organized the annual prayer event at the White House to gather Christians and interfaith leaders from all walks of life (and dozens of countries) to petition God to help the president guide America. They prayed for Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and yes, even Donald Trump. They prayed extra hard for Trump, Terry said, and some refused to pray for Trump at all. Others who prayed for Trump refuse to pray for President Joe Biden this year. Bridging that divide is part of Terry’s ambitious mission to heal America.

“We need 1,000 voices to be part of the choir!” Rev. Terry broadcasted into his mic on the street and onto his radio show that reaches hundreds of listeners. One young man volunteering wore a hoodie that read “prayer changes things.” “We are not going [to the White House] to protest, we are not going there to march or to speak out against anybody but to show people that unity, love and forgiveness is possible through our Lord Jesus,” Terry said.  

The event will feature various ministers, gospel music performances, worship, praise dancers, intercessory prayers and lots of waving American flags. The prayer partners will also ask God to help law enforcement, members of the military, firefighters, families, young people and other elected officials.  

Taking church to the streets

Terry left Jamaica alone at age 27 in 1989. East Flatbush is home to many recent Caribbean immigrants like him— the larger Flatbush area is one of the world’s largest and most diverse Caribbean diasporas— and connected to the subway via buses, it’s just beyond the gentrification zone attracting young professionals struggling to afford New York. The community is facing many nationwide challenges like political polarization, disagreements over impacts and solutions to racism, tensions toward the police, and higher rates of COVID-19 infections and deaths among Black Americans. In particular, they also face a rise in gun violence, unemployment, food insecurity and poverty. In 2020, shootings in New York City rocketed to levels not seen in 20 years, blamed by the NYPD and criminologists on bail reform, slower court proceedings during the pandemic, reduced arrests and an increase in gang activity as unemployment rose.

Rev. Terry tackles it all in the various arms of his decades-long ministry, multiplying the impact of his meager budget like Jesus feeding the 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish. The church’s biggest problem is not having enough funding for Terry’s visions. They rely on tithes and occasional inheritance money when a member passes away. His primary fuel is prayer.

Prayer is how he left the tobacco farm in Massachusetts, his first job in the U.S. The Lord asked him to leave that place, Terry said. On a step of faith, he arrived to New York City where he began preaching on the subway and streets on his way to and from work at construction sites. Eventually, the work became overbearing, he said, and he had to choose. So in 1998, he took the even bigger leap of faith into full-time ministry, surviving off donations.  

The community along Church Ave. between Nostrand Ave. and King’s Highway has heard Rev. Terry preach from the street for nearly 30 years. 

“So many of our youth are picking up the guns and killing each other but today our youth are here to unite and perform!” Terry yelled with a hoarse voice through his mic as a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk next to the trailer that played gospel music and a table with T-shirts that read “P.U.S.H.” - “pray until something happens”, sold for $20 donations to fund bus tickets for the youth performers to go to D.C.

“They refuse to let their gifts and talents go to the cemetery! Hallelujah!” Terry continued. “The cemetery is the richest place in this world. Why? There are so many people who have gifts and talents and they never use it. So all the affinity they have, they are born with it, and they die with it. They never make an impact. Believe in our youth! They are here making an impact!” 

Some people walking by offered a “hallelujah!” The teens assembled in a drumline with a set of descending basses, snares and multi-toms strapped onto mostly young men with a few young women too. They began quietly pecking and tapping at their instruments, a little impatiently, anticipating go-time.

“I can assure you some mothers today, they wish their sons would have been out here playing today, but they are somewhere upstate in a prison, so we bless the name of the Lord Jesus Christ!” Terry said, competing with the drums now. The rat-tat-a-tat-a-tats crescendo-ed. “We are Byways and Hedges Youth for Christ Ministry!”

After the speech, the drum line thundered off a setlist behind two young women dancing in sync. Small crowds gathered on each side of the sidewalk show, partly bemused, partly transfixed– some stayed for more than an hour to listen with smiles and tap along with their feet– and partly because there was no way around the performance other than wading into oncoming traffic. Around the corner, another set of speakers in front of shops competed with some reggae beats.

An elderly lady tugged at my elbow after one drumming session ended. “All this racket is too loud,” she said. “They are always doing this. It’s too loud.”

I introduced myself as a reporter and asked if I could quote her by name. “No, no, don’t tell Terry I said that. I’m friends with his wife, you know, for 20 years,” she said. Then pausing, “I’ll tell him myself. Don’t you tell him now.”

Another woman mistook me for a volunteer and complained that they needed to allow passers-by space to walk on the sidewalk. I asked her if she knew about Rev. Terry’s work.

“Of course, they’re out here all the time with the speaker,” she said, changing her tone when I said I’m writing about his ministry and asked if she thought they’re overall a positive for the community. “Oh, sure, they do real good work.”

Anthony Jones, a community activist from Brownsville who’s running as a Democrat for Brooklyn borough president this year, stopped by the event to support Rev. Terry and speak about his own faith.

“This is about God, it’s not about you or me or anyone else,” Jones said. “When it’s time for us to go to heaven, God is not going to ask whether or not we’re Democrat or Republican. He’s going to ask us, ‘Did you seek my face? Did you worship me? Did you live by the commandments that I have put on earth for you to abide by?’”

Local politicians like to praise Rev. Terry, but they stop short at helping the church find more funding, he said, even for their community service like violence prevention work with youth where volunteers mediate conflicts before they turn into revenge killings, one of the founding tasks of Immigrants Responding to Crisis. Rev. Terry is an official clergy liaison with the NYPD, meaning sometimes the police ask him to go to Kings County Hospital right away and talk to families and friends of shooting victims as a mediator. 

“I’ve been doing this work for 24 years and they never give me a dime to say, ‘Reverend Terry you’re doing a great job,’” he said. 

While the city pledged to expand funding by $10 million to violence interrupter groups last summer, that funding goes to groups in only the 20 precincts with the highest rates of gun violence across all the boroughs. In Brooklyn, that includes Midwood and Canarsie next to East Flatbush but leaves out Flatbush, which has seen an uptick in gun violence in the past year.

One time in 2010, a city council member did manage to allocate $25,000 to one of Terry’s ministry arms, Immigrants Responding to Crisis, for immigation law workshops, but it was more like a reimbursement, Terry said. The church members contribute tithes, but it’s not much, so they also sell potato chips and popcorn and solicit outside small donations when they can.

“We would be honored and happy if we can get some help,” Terry said. “We are not really asking a lot for funding and that’s why we don’t get anything. There’s a saying that a closed mouth doesn’t get fed.”

He says what his ministry really needs is more man-power and maybe someone to volunteer to lobby the city for some grants.

“We never do what we do for any monetary gain just as we are commissioned by faith and by Jesus,” Terry said. “Doing it now is not like doing it 20 years ago though. Things used to be easier. People used to volunteer in large numbers, but now they cannot do that anymore.”

The power of prayer

Walk down Church Avenue on a Sunday morning and you’ll pass open Roman Catholic church doors, hear evangelical worship songs and Pentecostals speaking in tongues, see ladies in elegant wide-brimmed hats and gloves and many storefront churches. The street used to link cattle and hay from Long Island’s first European settlers to the salt marshes that made up East Flatbush in the 1600s, according to Forgotten NY, a blog that birthed the book of the same name by native New Yorker Kevin Walsh. The name Church Ave. comes from the First Dutch Reformed Church at Flatbush Avenue, established in the 1650s, though the building dates to 1799.

As we walked down Church Ave. to Rev. Terry’s basement office and radio studio inside the Byways and Hedges building on 53rd Street, he pointed to where the church burned down in 2014, an arson attack that remains unsolved. “It feels like it just happened yesterday,” he said. Today, the church has a security camera behind its altar.

Two young men sipping from freshly sliced coconuts greeted him. “Yo, preacher!” one said, stretching out an arm. Rev. Terry smiled enthusiastically back at him from under his face mask. “Hey! Hey!” Then turning to me he said, “I have no idea who that was. Everybody knows me around here, but I don’t know everybody, you know?” 

The breadth of projects Terry runs seems impossible for only one man. Every August, he leads a Unity Walk against gun violence, which he started in 1997 after police officers sodomized a handcuffed Haitian immigrant, Abner Louima, with a broomstick in a precinct restroom. Every September he leads a gospel float for the West Indian Labor Day parade, the biggest annual celebration in this part of Brooklyn that attracts 1-3 million people each year, features Carnival outfits and splinters into many block parties with BBQ. And every May he leads the White House prayer event.

Years ago, he spent some time undocumented, during which time he became sick and frustrated that the city couldn’t help him more. During that time, he volunteered as an emergency responder in the neighborhood. In 2005, he received his green card, and in 2010, he became an American citizen. Over the years, Terry has welcomed district attorneys to his community to conduct immigration law and fraud workshops to help people understand their rights and how to improve their immigration status legally. 

On a Saturday in February, church members from Byways and Hedges fed more than 300 people and passed out face masks and face shields as gospel singers sang uplifting songs. While waiting for the drummers on a Saturday in March, Rev. Terry pulled out his local newspaper, the Real Life Times, with a big ad for the White House prayer event inside. It has a monthly circulation of 10,000 and runs on advertising. “It’s like the New York Times, but real life, you know?” he said, chuckling. I should have known this pastor can do journalism too.

Inside Byways and Hedges reflects Rev. Terry’s own positive inner fire. There’s no sleeping in church there, except for Terry’s grandson, a cute toddler in a suit who managed to nap peacefully through the entire service in his grandma’s lap. 

“Awake, Zion, awake!” the congregation crooned, led as much from the back row, repurposed van seats with the seatbelts hanging off, as from the two women belting out praises and prayers in tongues from the front. One wore a red dress, the other a suit jacket of orange, pink and brown. Both wore heels and matching hats. About two dozen people attended, more women and children than men. A young woman next to me shook a tambourine along to the music. 

Byways and Hedges evangelist Linden Ellis shared how he recently recovered from a second surgery and health scare, emphasizing the importance of prayer. “If you’re never tested, you won’t have a testimony,” he said. “You need to stay in prayer. Sometimes God puts us in a place so he can get the glory when he brings us out. There’s so many spiritual attacks going on, more than any other time, we need to pray.”

The service began without Rev. Terry, who visited four different neighboring churches to promote the White House prayer event. He eventually raced up the aisle in a deep purple suit and sat down behind the keyboard to help out the worship team, who was missing one member. The keys player’s father recently died in Guyana.

The visiting chaplain, Norman McDowell from Canarsie, brought a powerful presence in a red suit jacket, bold cross necklace, red leather shoes, a booming voice and frequent eye contact. He preached about the importance of prayer to stay on the narrow path toward God and away from sin, to love your neighbor. We too often think we don’t need to pray the Lord’s prayer everyday, he said, but do we think we’re better than Jesus? McDowell became a committed Christian eight years ago after coming to church reluctantly with his wife.

“I used to seek God with a little bit of my heart but wanted to keep doing what I want,” he said. “We have to learn to live like Christ. Seek him first and. all. his. righteousness, the Bible says.”

But we’re trapped in sin because our society is tricking us, he said. “Look at what’s happening in the world! We’re falling asleep.”

Then the ministry team softly played the song “Jesus is Love” by Lionel Richie and the Commodores over the speakers.

“Father

Help your children

And don't let them fall

By the side of the road, mmm

And teach them

To love one another

That Heaven might find

A place in their hearts

'Cause Jesus is love

He won't let you down….

We've got to walk on

Walk on through temptation

'Cause His love and His wisdom

Will be our helpin' hand.”

“We’ve got to walk on through temptation!” McDowell said as the song continued playing. We have to have compassion, to see what others are going through, he preached. “The world needs love… helping your neighbor isn’t convenient.”

Bringing peace to protests

Immigrants Responding to Crisis is a team described on the church website as “the little David among the Goliaths of domestic violence, street violence, drugs and gangs, against immigration fraud, the spread of HIV/ AIDS, inequality and injustice.”

During the Black Lives Matter protests this past summer, Immigrants Responding to Crisis deployed their Peace Unit, a cargo van with a folding ledge to display a gospel choir inside like an ice cream truck’s serving counter. It’s been at work on Brooklyn streets for 30 years. The Peace Unit lived up to its name by calming violence brewing between NYPD officers and protesters one night last June. A few protesters just up the road from the van smashed the window of a police car with a Molotov cocktail the evening that a Religion Unplugged reporter attended. The video captured by ReligionUnplugged shows Rev. Terry’s group quelling an increasingly violent evening in which both police officers and protestors were getting injured. The anger and violence simmered down as his Peace Unit sprang into action with gospel music and his Jamaican accent calmed the crowd with a loudspeaker.

“We’ve been the mediator at so many protests and riots over the years,” Terry said. “We’re not anti-police and we’re not anti-community. We’re still right there, that middle bridge. People in the community can come to us, and we’ll never change.”

Rev. Terry and Immigrants Responding to Crisis were also on Flatbush Avenue when thousands of protesters began marching onto the Brooklyn Bridge headed to Manhattan, which later endured heavy looting and pockets of violence in the biggest shopping districts from some agitators. Terry began blasting a song by Hezikiah Walker. “I love you/ I need you to survive,” the lyrics go. “We’re all a part of God’s body… It is his will, that every need be supplied/ You are important to me, I need you to survive.” 

“When the first group of people on bicycles were coming up, I said, ‘Wave your hands and say hallelujah!’ Then 200 people came up, then 500, then 2,000 people. We had the crowd going!” Terry said. “I sang, ‘I love you, I need you to survive,’ and then everybody started to wave their hands and worship.”

And then he began preaching, telling the young people gathered that just like we say Black lives matter, Jesus is saying your life matters.

“Jesus says all of you come, you’re weary and tired, come. And people like that,” Terry said. “You cannot sprinkle gasoline on fire. You don’t want to go out there with words to make them more upset. People are angry and hurting. But if you can go out there, think how can we be one, help them heal. Be part of the solution not the pollution.”  

On the radio, in the pulpit and in real life, Rev. Terry loves speaking in poetic maxims like that, but he’s also not afraid to speak his mind when he thinks it will be helpful, from pushing against Jamaica’s lockdown shutting down church services on the island to suggesting a different message for the Black Lives Matter movement. 

“What I don’t see us [the community] addressing is why we are killing each other. Black lives matter! I hear that message loud and clear,” Terry said. “Black people, stop killing each other! We’re not hearing that. That is one thing we need to address as the church… When we shoot the police, we need to come out too. When we shoot each other, we need to come out. We can’t just come out when a White man shoots a Black man.”

He’s deeply patriotic and loves the John F. Kennedy quote about asking yourself what you can do for the country. He’s hopeful. 

“America now is in need of some help so why can’t the world stretch their hands across America for prayer, so we can love again, forgive again and unite again? I believe that’s what will make America rise again,” he said. “For the majority of us who believe in God, we can unite the others who may not believe, and we can let them see true love and compassion and kindness. That’s what is lacking, love and compassion.”

If you want to join Rev. Terry’s White House prayer coalition on May 1, read more information at WhiteHousePrayer.org. 

Meagan Clark is the managing editor of Religion Unplugged. She has reported for Newsweek, International Business Times, Dallas Morning News, Religion News Service and several outlets in India, including Indian Express and the Wire. Follow her on Twitter @MeaganKay.