Pastor henry covington detroit mi time

This time, it’s not a hole in the roof.

It’s a gap in the community.

Ten years ago, I wrote about a church on Brainard and Trumbull, not far from old Tiger Stadium. It was holding services in the rain and snow — literally, in the rain and snow — because a large roof hole let all the elements through.

The church, I Am My Brother’s Keeper Ministry, was run by a remarkable man, Henry Covington, who overcame an early life of drugs and crime to become an inspiration to his congregation. Despite no heat, despite a wintry cold that forced his members to gather inside a plastic tent draped over the pews, Henry led his flock of mostly poor followers in prayer and hope every week.

He fed the hungry. He sheltered the homeless. On freezing nights, 80 or 90 people might sleep inside that church, fed by its kitchen, and warmed by the spirituality of the heavyset pastor with the sweet voice and easy laugh.

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