12/24/2025
The church still echoes with footsteps that once were theirs.
We feel the hush where Big Dre’s praise once rose strong,
a voice unafraid, hands lifted high,
faith worn boldly like armor.
He believed joy was an act of worship,
that strength and kindness could stand side by side.
Now heaven holds his shout,
and we learn to sing through tears.
Then Mother Jennings, called home not long after,
a pillar wrapped in grace and prayer.
She knew the language of waiting on God,
knew how to speak peace into broken rooms.
Her faith was steady, rooted, unmovable,
a living sermon long before Sunday morning.
Two souls taken close together,
yet never taken from us.
The church will miss them forever—
their seats, their prayers, their presence,
the way they made faith feel reachable.
Still, we believe.
We trust the promise beyond goodbye.
Their lives now testify in glory,
their love stitched into our worship.
We stand stronger, lifted higher,
because they ran their race well,
and left us faith enough to finish ours.
