Pastor Levi

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USA250 Journal Project

Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.

✍️ “Who am I?”

They call me Pastor Levi, but I’ve answered to a few names in my time.

Levi Brown from Linwood Street.
Brother Levi from the band.
Reverend Levi when the collar’s on straight.
And just “Pastor” to the ones who don’t know what else to call love when it shows up in a basement with drums and a plate of food.

I’m a shepherd for the broken and the brilliant.
A rhythm-keeper for the ones who’ve forgotten how to breathe.
And a man who believes—deep in his marrow—that nobody’s too far gone for grace.

I don’t preach for performance. I preach because the Spirit won’t leave me alone.

✍️ “How did I get here?”

I started in music before ministry. Played drums for a touring gospel-jazz group back in the day. I knew how to keep time, but I didn’t always know how to spend it.

Spent some of mine running, drinking, avoiding. Lost people I loved. Lost myself a few times too.

But the Lord has a way of turning broken rhythms into holy ones.

I came back to Detroit after years on the road and opened the doors to this little church—not just for worship, but for healing. We host recovery meetings, open mics, community dinners, and drum circles in the basement on Tuesdays. That’s where I first saw Jamal.

He didn’t say much. Still doesn’t. But the way he sits near the congas like they might speak for him? I see it.

I don’t force. I invite. I wait.

Because healing comes in rhythm. In witness. In letting someone know they don’t have to perform to be loved.

What has life taught me?

That God moves in circles.
That some prayers sound like drumbeats.
And that silence can be sacred, too.