S1 E1: Bishop Clarence Laney, Jr.
TIME STAMPS
0:00 Intro
0:59 Bishop Laney’s Story
5:41 Hayti, Urban Renewal & the Church
23:53 Becoming an Affirming Church
38:58 Future Hopes for Durham’s Black Community
DESCRIPTION
In this episode, we sit down with Bishop Clarence Laney, the Senior Pastor of Monument of Faith Church and a pivotal voice in Durham’s faith and community landscape. Bishop Laney shares the story of his personal journey, the transformative work Monument of Faith is doing in the neighborhood, and the church’s decision to become an affirming space for all people.
We delve into the rich traditions of the Black Church, the challenges it faces in staying relevant, and how Monument of Faith is shaping its theology to meet the needs of its congregation. Bishop Laney also opens up about his hopes and dreams for the church and the people of Durham, offering powerful reflections on the role of faith in fostering justice, equity, and belonging.
GUEST
Bishop Clarence Laney, Jr., a native of Selma, NC, was saved at age five and accepted his call to ministry at 13. He holds a Doctorate of Ministry from Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary, a Master of Divinity from Duke University, and a B.A. in Broadcast Journalism from St. Augustine’s College. In 1996, he was appointed Pastor of the Church of God of Prophecy in Durham, NC, later renamed Monument of Faith Church (MOF). Under his leadership, the congregation experienced significant growth, adding over twenty new ministries and building a new sanctuary in 2004. Bishop Laney also serves as Bishop of NC COGOP Region #3, overseeing 26 churches, and is a member of the NC COGOP State Ministerial Review Board. He is married to Lisa Carvana, and they have two sons, Caleb Elijah and Joshua Holt. His favorite saying is by Frederick Douglass: "If there is no struggle, there is no progress."
Give To Bishop Laney: $LaneyJr
Learn More About: Monument of Faith Church
Listen to Bishop Laney Preach: It’s A Strange Time to Sing
TRANSCRIPT
Dooleys: Welcome to The Black South Podcast: South to America, where we reclaim the sacredness of the South—its stories, its people, its legacy. This podcast is inspired by Dr. Imani Perry's award-winning book, and we encourage you to pick up a copy. In Season 1, we're taking you to Durham, North Carolina, through the voices of community builders creating space for Black flourishing. Let's get into it.
All right, so we are here with Bishop Clarence Laney. Bishop, so many good things we've heard about you from people here in the city of Durham, North Carolina. We're very privileged to have you be a part of this conversation, sir.
Laney: Thank you for having me.
Dooleys: Of course, of course. We want to just jump right in and ask you: what is the story of Bishop Clarence Laney, and how did you become pastor of Monument of Faith?
Laney: The story of Bishop Clarence Laney begins in a very small rural community in Johnston County, about an hour east of Durham. I was raised in a very small, close-knit community. I was fortunate to have both my mother and father. I'm one of seven siblings—I'm the sixth of seven—and community was always a part of my formation.
I went to middle school and high school in that community, graduated, and then matriculated to college where I majored in broadcast journalism. It was my goal to be the first Black Peter Jennings, for those old enough to know who Peter Jennings is. But I was called to ministry at a very early age—13. Although I was young in my preaching call, I never saw myself doing this full-time. I thought I'd have a main job and preach on the side.
When I graduated from St. Augustine's College in Raleigh in 1986, I had difficulties finding a job. I felt dejected. I went to Bible study on a Wednesday night, and my pastor's wife was teaching. She asked, "How many of you have asked God to do something for you, and God has not answered that prayer?" Being in church, who wants to admit that? But that night, I was so frustrated, I raised my hand.
She asked, "What is a prayer that hasn't been answered?" I said, "I've done everything right—all I want is a job." She took her glasses off, looked at me, and asked the group for permission to speak to me. They agreed, and I thought she was about to say something profound that would open doors. But she simply said, "God called you to preach."
I was confused. I knew that, but I didn’t see what it had to do with my job search. After more conversations with her and my pastor, he became instrumental in me going into ministry full-time as a state evangelist. I worked for my denominational headquarters for about 10 years, still with no intentions of being in ministry full-time. At that point, I wanted to go into education and start a school specifically for African American boys.
After 10 years, the church in Durham became available. My then-bishop asked if I'd be willing to serve interim for about five or six months. Sure, I thought—no problem. Again, no intentions of staying. But it's been 29 years, and I'm still here. What was supposed to be interim was clearly God's design for my life to be in the community of Durham. Serving in this capacity also gave me the opportunity to serve on my denominational level as a bishop.
Dooleys: Wow. That's awesome. I love how so much of your story is about listening to God. Even with Black South and what we're up to, it's nothing that I planned, but everything I feel was a desire in me. It's funny how God leads us into what our ultimate desires and hopes are, but it's not how we plan it. I see that in your narrative.
Laney: Absolutely. God has surprised me quite a number of times.
Dooleys: The second question we'd love to talk about is your witness in the community. From what we've learned from folks here in Durham, it's clear how much you serve the community. Church, for you, extends beyond four walls. Your heart and mind are also focused on community change and social change. We'd love to hear from you about the context of Monument of Faith here in Durham and the ways you and the church serve your neighborhood and community.
Laney: I came to Durham in 1996. At the time, the community was incredibly blighted—boarded-up homes, a 20-acre public housing complex being emptied, families being displaced. There seemed to be no life in the community. Some residents were raised in Hayti, and the history of Hayti is rich. It has been a part of Durham since probably the 1930s. At its heyday, there were over 300 businesses in Hayti. One resident said everything you needed was in this community—from birth, with a hospital, to schools, businesses, and even funeral homes and graveyards. You could live your entire life in the Hayti community and never have to leave.
But in 1964, urban renewal came in and put a highway through the African American community to give people from the Research Triangle Park access to downtown Durham. They displaced families and businesses. Promises were made to the displaced, but they were never kept.
After learning this history, I asked, "Why are we here for the community?" Monument of Faith has been a part of this community since 1933, so it shares that history. I knew that if I was going to serve a congregation, it had to exist for the people. I always had an outward focus, partly because of my parents. They weren't college-educated, but they always served the community. We were economically poor, but my parents always opened their home, fed people, clothed people, provided shelter. My dad fixed things for widows, helped kids get to school. That's what I grew up seeing—the church outside the walls.
So, I began to talk to the congregation. One concern was public housing, so I did work around affordable housing in the community, as well as addressing food insecurity. We worked on getting a food source within the community. Gentrification became an issue about 20 years later when people wanted to revitalize the area because of its proximity to downtown. What was once a blighted community became profitable. We wanted to ensure that new residents understood the history of the community.
When I look at the gospel, Jesus was always where the people were. He spent very little time in the synagogue; he was always among the people. If we're going to be followers of Christ, we should embody who Christ is—God among us.
Dooleys: Thank you. I think that story is so powerful because what I hear modeled from your parents was this type of hospitality—to care for people and to see people, which we see in the life of Jesus. Seeing how you carried that into the work you do in Durham is really beautiful. I think people sometimes forget how hospitable Jesus was, and being able to carry that into what ministry looks like is a really beautiful thing.
Laney: Absolutely. I'm grateful for my parents. My dad became an ancestor three years ago on the 19th of this month. I think of him often, particularly this time of year, and the example he left for me, the legacy. I actually bear his name, so living in that legacy of service is something I hold very near and dear, particularly at this time of transition.
Dooleys: Wow. Thank you for sharing that with us. You took my breath away with everything you've said—so good. I hear so much of the story of pain that's happened in the neighborhood where Monument of Faith is, in Hayti. The erasure of the rich, vibrant African American community that was here, it's something that has happened in places across the country.
What is perhaps one thing you've learned or one thing of beauty you've seen from the folks who are in and around the neighborhood, despite their circumstances? What is one thing you've learned from them while pastoring in the neighborhood, or what is one thing of beauty you can see in their lives and traditions?
Laney: I think the beauty in their story is resilience—something our ancestors have taught us for years. I'd like to lift up Miss Brenda, who is still a part of the Hayti community. I call her one of my "sheroes." She has lived in the community her entire life, in the house her grandfather built many years ago. They never left the community. Many in the community left because of what it was becoming—they sold their land, moved to the suburbs. But Miss Brenda and many of her cousins stayed on the 700 block of Grant Street.
What I see is resilience and pride. Many of their homes were surrounded by crack houses, boarded-up houses, substandard housing—but that block was always kept immaculate. The lawns were manicured, the houses well-maintained. You'd see them sitting on their front porches. They were determined not to let the blight of the community run them away. It's exciting now to see things coming back to life, happening in their lifetime, when so many of their peers died before anything began to change.
I think of resilience and truth-telling—the stories of what happened to the community and the promises that were made but never kept.
Dooleys: Wow, that's so good. Was there something that you wanted to say? I saw you…
Laney: I mean, well, I think it's really beautiful because something that we've even been talking about the last couple of days is this shift. In some churches that are multiethnic, you often hear them talk about reconciliation. And I just… I don't like that word personally. I'm like, reconciled to what, you know what I mean? It forces you to define what are we being reconciled to. The thing that the word reconciliation asks you to be reconciled to is really white American culture, which has forced a lot of people of color in different ethnic groups to disregard and let go of their culture. So the word that we're using instead is cultural preservation instead of reconciliation. How do we preserve our culture and our heritage? And that's what I'm hearing as you describe the members of the community that are part of Monument of Faith—this resiliency to hold on when so much around them is asking and trying to force them to let go.
Dooleys: Yeah, and that's kind of what I'm sitting with, hearing you say all of that.
Laney: Yeah, and I think when you're part of a historical African American congregation, particularly when the city changes… There was a time when I came to Durham, and Durham was… I don't want to misquote, but it was predominantly Black. It was a Black city; everybody knew Durham was Black. And there was this sense of pride that came along with that—Durham, Chocolate City, if you please. But of course, as it has changed over the years, I think the African American population has decreased compared to what it was maybe 20, 27, 30 years ago. So it's important that those of us who are in the community maintain our authenticity. That is not at the exclusion of anyone else. We just had an Indian—from India—who joined our church on Sunday. Prior to that, we've had… not a lot, maybe two or three white Christians who have joined the church. The question was asked, "So what do we do when other people are coming?" I said, "Well, when they joined, they knew this was the Black church."
Dooleys: Yeah.
Laney: We are unapologetically Black. We make sure the space is inclusive of everybody, but we don't apologize for who we are.
Dooleys: Amen. Yeah, yeah. So good. Need more of that.
Dooleys: Switching now to talk about the Black church, I think not only the Black church but church in general is such an interesting conversation in our world right now, in society. When you think of relevancy and spaces trying to push to be relevant and get a bunch of people in the building, they switch to these ways of being that sometimes assimilate into one way of doing church that's predominant in a lot of white megachurch-type spaces. Also, thinking about the Black church and its history and some of its hang-ups with Black folks… You named before how there was such hospitality from the church you grew up in, and now some people feel like the Black church's witness has maybe lost that, trying to become the mega or something different. I'd love to hear your thoughts on any of that—your own witness there at Monument of Faith and how you think about these things leading a church right now in the 21st century.
Laney: Yeah, it's interesting because in seminary, which most are predominantly white… The seminary I attended was a United Methodist seminary. So you take worship, you go to worship, and a lot of the tenets and what you're taught did not come out of the Black church tradition. You have to ask yourself, do I take these traditions from other non-Black spaces and bring them into Black spaces? Which I did—portions of that. But how do you do that while maintaining your authenticity as people of African descent? And of course, as the church grew, it was not growing at the level of some megachurches. Every young pastor wants to have a church—whether he admits it or not, everybody wants to have the biggest church in the community, unlimited resources, etc. You have a tendency to look over the fence and see what those who are mega are doing.
Laney: But what I saw—they are doing some incredible ministry, and I applaud them. But so much of it is not rooted in the Black church experience. Even for my Black brothers and sisters who go to multiethnic churches, they give up something in those spaces. What I was determined to do is maintain our Africanisms, to use the word of the late Reverend Bishop Charles Harrison Mason, founder of the Church of God in Christ. To maintain those African distinctives, even as we change. I was texting some pastors yesterday, and the question was, "What happened to the choir? Can we bring it back?" The choir was a staple in the Black church, and now we've shifted to praise teams and worship leaders. All that has its place, but sometimes we didn't learn that from the Black church experience—we learned it from white spaces. At least be able to critique why we do it, even though we make it authentically our own.
Laney: The Black church has been very different. In my lifetime, the Black church was the hub, the center of the African American community. There were no competing interests when it came to churches. The church was the place you went for education, for religious formation. It was where you went for mass rallies and civil rights protests. A lot of your education and recreation came out of the Black church because we had to create spaces when others wouldn't give us the opportunity. That has all changed now. A lot of people don't see the relevance of the Black church. They can go to a coffee shop on Sunday mornings and find community, or they can go to a soccer league and find community. People are finding community in different ways that they did not 30, 40, 50 years ago. I think that's the challenge of the Black church—how do we remain relevant when our voice, to some, is becoming irrelevant?
Dooleys: Yeah, that's powerful.
Dooleys: I have a question about something unique and beautiful to me. I visited Monument of Faith one time, and I know Kendall's gone a couple of times. There's something really beautiful to me about the theology of Monument of Faith that you preach. I'm thinking about the spiritual formation of the people of Monument of Faith. I'm wondering, since the church's inception, has it always been that way? What has been the journey of growth, theologically speaking, for Monument of Faith—in particular, when Monument of Faith chose to become an affirming church? To be an affirming Black church is kind of unheard of in today's world, but it's so needed. I just want to know the story and the journey of the growth of theology at Monument of Faith.
Laney: Yeah, it's funny that you ask that. It's been a journey. Monument of Faith was started in 1933, and we are part of the larger Church of God of Prophecy, which is part of the Pentecostal movement. If you know anything about Pentecostalism, it's incredibly rigid in its theology. Pentecostal theology is very binary—black and white, right or wrong, up or down. There are no gray areas. You're either saved or you're not. You're going to heaven or you're going to hell. There's no in-between. I grew up in that tradition. But I think the beauty for me is I grew up in a very ecumenical household. My mother's father was Baptist, and my dad and his family were Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ. Although I've only been a part of Pentecostal churches in terms of membership, I was raised in all these different denominations.
Laney: So there was some dissonance between what I was told in Pentecostalism was sin and what I saw in my family—people I knew loved God and were good Christians who did some of the things they said you'd go to hell for. So there was this, "Wait a minute. My grandmother wears earrings, and you're telling me she's going to hell? I don't know if I can buy that." Or "My grandmother wears pants. My granddaddy dipped a little snuff." There was this dissonance. When I came to Monument of Faith, it was a typical Pentecostal church, very legalistic. I came in '96, then decided to go back to seminary. I was accepted in '98 but didn't start until '99. As I began my formal theological education and read scripture in a broader context, I began to experience God very differently from the God of my Pentecostal formation.
Laney: In the process of pastoring, I have a nephew who is same-gender loving. He and his partner just got married last weekend. I knew from a very young age that he was different. He had a loving home; he wasn't abused. I just knew he was gay. I always gravitated to him, perhaps more than some of my other nieces and nephews, because I felt like I needed to protect him. In the process of pastoring, there were people in the congregation who shared their struggles with their sexuality. Hearing some of their stories, what they went through just to be affirmed as a child of God, absolutely ripped my heart apart.
Laney: I didn't necessarily have a theology of queerness or same-gender loving; I just knew this should be a place where you can be. I didn't understand all the theology behind it. I just wanted this to be a place where people could come and find God. I started preaching that we're supposed to be a house for all people. I wasn't intentionally trying to be open and affirming—just saying that Monument of Faith should be a place where anyone can come. When legislation went forth to legalize same-gender marriages, people began to ask questions. I had to put my stake in the ground and figure out where I stood, where God stood in all of this. When I read scripture, there's nowhere that I've read—and if you know places, please help me—where Jesus ever rejected anybody.
Laney: So I thought, "If Jesus never rejected anybody, who are we as a church to reject people?" No one could answer that question for me in a way that convicted me otherwise. Then we had a minister who came out as gay—a beloved member of the church, someone I love to this day and would fight for. We had to make a decision: Do we throw him out, and everyone who looks like him, or do we love him and allow God to use his gifts in this space? As a church, we decided, "This is his home. He's part of us, part of our family. If he can't be here, none of us can be." That's how we became this open space. It has cost us. Members have left. I think one of the reasons our membership isn't as large as it once was is because a lot of Black folks still have issues accepting our queer siblings. But that's where we are. As long as I'm pastor, this will be a place where everybody can come and be.
Dooleys: That's so powerful. For whatever it's worth, I just applaud you, Pastor—Bishop Clarence Laney—because I think it takes a lot of courage to do something like that. It just affirms that this is possible. I've never seen it in a traditional Black church. As we've connected with a lot of people here in Durham, so many speak highly of you. Everyone says, "You've got to connect with Bishop Laney." Based on the work we desire to do, they think being connected with you and what you're doing is essential. Having served as a pastor before in another context, I can only imagine what it was like for people to go there with you—as your own theology expanded, the time it took for them to grow with you. I don't even know if you could put a time frame on it—was it 10, 15 years of people growing their theology along with you? Could you speak a little to that?
Laney: I say to my congregation that we all went to seminary. The beauty of coming to Monument of Faith was when I came, we had maybe 30 active members. It was a very small, close-knit, family-oriented congregation. When I went back to seminary, I basically came back and taught what I was learning. I'd never heard about the Revised Common Lectionary—I started preaching from the lectionary. I'd never heard about Advent—I started observing Advent. I'd never observed Holy Week or many liturgical seasons that we've come to enjoy. We just evolved. As a result of preaching—at the time, I was only in my 30s, so a young man attracts other young people—a lot of young families would come. We were very intentional about studying and duplicating as much as we could of the life of Christ.
Laney: There were tense moments. People challenged my theology, didn't like it, and left. Some were determined to run me away. It's not been a beautiful, easy walk—there were very hard times that made me question why I was doing this. I said to one of my same-gender loving members, "We've created a space for people who are not even here." Someone said, "We don't have that many gay people, so why do we have to be affirming? Why do we have to create this space?" I said, "Because I think it's what Christ would do." Moving that theology needle from more conservative to… some would say liberal, but I would just say more God-like. I'd say we started evolving around 1999, and over the last few years, we've continued evolving. Even when I went back to get my doctorate, there was still this evolution, this education piece.
Laney: Historically, Pentecostals have not attracted educated people. That's changing, but we historically attracted people who were very marginalized and were not encouraged to go to college or seminary or to ask questions of their faith. In my context, a lot of folks who were raised Pentecostal had the privilege to go on to higher education, and they were now thinking differently. They thought they'd have to leave the tradition to engage their minds, hearts, and spirits. Monument of Faith became this place where they could think and still feel. It became a safe haven for those who grew up in traditional Pentecostalism but couldn't acquiesce to some of its teachings. It also opened spaces for people from other Black church spaces who wanted a more spiritual experience grounded in a well-thought-out theology. Monument of Faith is a very eclectic place to be.
Dooleys: Yeah, that's great. I love the witness of making that decision—not just to be relevant in culture and society, but to be loving. To love God and love people, and have that be the answer in our time and context. I'm excited to be with you, getting in good trouble together here in the city when we reverse migrate here come May of this year. We're excited for you to join our family and our team, bringing some young energy.
Laney: I think about John when Jesus came on the scene. He said, "I must decrease that you may increase." As these younger, vibrant brothers and sisters come alongside us, I'm excited that the community and the history will be sustained—maybe even in ways that I couldn't sustain it.
Dooleys: Last time we visited Monument of Faith, you gave a message and mentioned the idea of remixing traditions—like how artists sample songs and remix them for a modern sound. I love that. I feel like that's what God's put in our hearts and minds—what does it look like to help remix some traditions? I'm excited to see what happens.
Laney: The Black church is certainly being remixed, that's for sure.
Dooleys: Yeah, there's no doubt about that. Final question, Bishop Laney: What are your hopes and dreams for the future of Monument of Faith within the city of Durham, for the people of Durham? And alongside that, the hopes and dreams of the community as well?
Laney: I have many. One of the things for our church is to be a place to bring all people to Christ. I would like for Monument of Faith to be a place where everybody can come and have an encounter with God. To see the community transformed—to see grocery stores, businesses, not just ABC stores and check-cashing places, but vibrant community businesses. To see housing in the community where not just the wealthy and influential can live, but also those who are middle-income or even below the poverty line. A space where everybody can peacefully coexist in the Hayti community. For those who are longstanding residents of Hayti, I hope they can maintain their homes and family legacies, while opening doors for new people to come in.
Laney: I also hope that those moving into the community can be educated about what this community is about. You're not just buying a house in Durham—you're buying a house in a historic African American community. Some people do their research before moving in, but most don't. It's my hope to help them better understand the tone and tenor of this place. Right now, if you two came into my office and we wanted to get coffee, we'd have to go over to South Point, near Duke, or downtown. But there should be the same things available in my community. We should have coffee shops, sandwich shops, boutiques—things we enjoy as people of color should be part of our community, staples of our community.
Laney: I hope that when I leave, Monument of Faith and the Hayti community will be vibrant again, alive again, where you can see sons and daughters of those who lived in the community walking through the neighborhood, feeling safe and proud of the history that's a part of them. For the larger Durham, as the city changes, I want Durham to be aware of its history. Durham became a safe haven for a lot of Black folks. I read that during the Wilmington riot, many Black people came to Durham and resettled because it was a place they could continue their fight for freedom. I want Durham to continue being The Bull City. Bulls are not always tamed; they sometimes go and disrupt the narrative. We should continue to be holy disruptors, making people uncomfortable, particularly when the least among us is not being cared for. I want Durham to be a place for everybody.
Dooleys: Yes, yes. Come on now, I love that. Well, we look forward to joining you in that type of work.
Laney: Absolutely. I look forward to you joining us.
Dooleys: Indeed, indeed. Well, thank you so much again for your time. We're just very grateful for leaders like you in the city who have done a lot of really wonderful work and laid a strong, beautiful foundation.
Laney: Yeah, it's a blessing.
Dooleys: Thank you for your witness, your legacy. As you started talking, the sun started coming up behind you—holiness all around this afternoon sun. Thank you for being with us and being on the South to America podcast, and being among the first iteration of this.
Laney: Thank you for the privilege to be with you today. I think about the words that say, "I am because of you, and because of you, therefore I am." So, thank you for your work and your witness, and all that you do to make the South a better place—to amplify and center our story. Let folks know that everybody in the South is not dumb and backwards.
RESOURCES
Click below to listen to Bishop Clarence Laney preach at Monument of Faith Church in the Hayti district of Durham, NC. (12-22-24) The Sermon was titled, "It's A Strange Time To Sing"🔥
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