Pastor Lawrence Blake Led A Ministry Of Compassion And Accountability

The Black Church lost a hero this week. Elder Lawrence Champion Blake passed away after a brave battle with cancer. He was 54 years old. The youngest son of Mae L. Blake and Charles E. Blake, Sr., who was the pastor of West Angeles Church of God in Christ (COGIC) for over 50 years, Elder Blake served on the pastoral staff before becoming the Senior Pastor of Palm Lane Church of God in Christ in Watts, California. 

There is an old song that we used to sing: “You can’t just join in, you’ve got to be born in it/This is the Church of God In Christ.” 

I was as close to being born in COGIC as one could get. My parents became members of West Angeles before I was born, soon after they moved to Los Angeles from their hometown of Washington, D.C., and I attended the church with my family until I moved away for college. 

Simply put, West Angeles was and is a cultural landmark, not just within the Black Pentecostal tradition. It is one of the largest Black American churches in the Western United States and, under Bishop Blake’s leadership, became a shining example of the role churches should play in providing critical social services and aid to underserved communities. But for me, West Angeles was a second home, and the Blakes were like members of my extended family. As long as I could remember, before he was Elder Lawrence Blake, I knew him as Larry.

As a child and teenager growing up in South Central LA, my parents instilled in me the ability to identify the healthy adults around me, in any environment, especially at our church. There were a few Sunday school teachers, deacons, elders, and young adults who, if they were in the room, I was certain I was safe and okay. Larry was one of them. 

My mother worked at West Angeles for most of my youth as Lady Mae’s administrative assistant, so after school, I would head to the church office and do my homework in the staff lounge. One afternoon, after a bumpy ride on the 210 bus from 3rd and Rossmore to Crenshaw and Jefferson, the stress of an upcoming high school exam heavy on my mind, I found Larry sitting at the table in the staff lounge with a colleague. There was an old picture of his father from the ’80s on the table we shared.  

As I sat down, he and his friend began making jokes about the extreme 1980s-era glasses Bishop Blake wore in the photograph. I realized how serious I must have looked, tossing my book bag on the ground and quickly pulling out all my books and binders. That moment of light gave me the sense of ease I needed. I cracked a smile, which then turned into a shared laugh with Larry.

I finally slowed down a bit to organize myself before I began studying. Any stress or anxiety I carried with me into that office had melted away just with a little bit of laughter. Larry had his father’s comedic timing, and in that moment, I learned a valuable lesson: when in doubt, let a little bit of joy in your heart to lighten the load. 

Larry was a preacher and a servant-leader with a passion for caring for the youth in his congregation and the greater community. My father, John H. Wilson III, runs the Education and Enrichment Ministry at West Angeles. He worked closely with Larry during his tenure as the church’s youth pastor. My father describes Larry as “Extremely organic; never fake. He was one of the few truly down-to-earth people that I know. He was always that way.”

One example of his care and empathy for young people was when my father’s ministry invited Larry to deliver a keynote address at a program celebrating West Angeles’ graduating high school seniors. 

Instead of empty platitudes, Larry spoke to the youth about their current and future successes; he spoke to them as young people with purpose, not problems to solve or burdens adults needed to bear. When the event was over, my father said the teenagers swarmed him to ask follow-up questions for advice and encouragement. He stayed and talked with each one of them. 

Later that week, my father offered him an honorarium, as is customary for speaking engagements. Larry turned it down and instead replied, “There’s a young man I spoke to that day, and he needs that money much more than me. Please give the honorarium to him instead.” That was the kind of leader, the kind of human, Larry was: a beacon of light in a dark world that the Gospel instructed Christians to be. 

While Larry came from a long bloodline of fiery pastors and ministers, he never hid the fact that, as a teenager, he didn’t accept his destiny to preach the Word of God easily. He preached his first sermon at 16 and became a licensed minister in 1988, and he was never ashamed to talk about his past as a youth running the streets, farther away from his purpose, and ultimately becoming a survivor of gun violence that threatened his life before it had truly begun.

Larry’s testimony demonstrates God’s grace and redemption, and I like to think that his struggles in youth made his love and empathy for young people flow more freely through his ministry. What I admired most about Larry was how his identity as a servant of Christ who preached the Gospel with a deep family legacy in the COGIC tradition was in harmony with his beautiful, imperfect humanity. He was not ashamed of the gospel, nor was he ashamed of the shortcomings that led him closer to his Christian purpose.  

Before his passing, Larry was appointed senior pastor of Palm Lane Church of God in Christ in Watts, California. Under his leadership, the church’s membership tripled. This is a testament to his ministry of compassion and accountability, and his community-centered approach to pastoring. He never led with his esteemed lineage as the son of the Church of God in Christ Presiding Bishop Emeritus. Instead, he led with humility, knowing through his own witness that everyone who comes inside the church doors is worthy of experiencing the love of Christ. 

I am so grateful for his living example of Christian love, leadership through service, and mentorship that I and so many others had the privilege and pleasure to witness. To quote poet Amir Sulaiman, Larry lived his life as if one day, he would be someone’s ancestor, and he acted accordingly. May he rest well, for he was a good and faithful servant.

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