For fifteen years, my faith has been lived out within the walls of the predominantly white church. As a Black man, this has not been a passive experience; it has been a journey defined by profound, sometimes dizzying dualities. It has been a decade and a half marked by genuine moments of spiritual connection, deep communal joy, and lifelong friendships. Yet, it has been equally shaped by heavy structural challenges, systemic isolation, and a recurring, quiet exhaustion that c

By Jomo K. Johnson I'll be honest — I didn't know exactly what to expect walking into Rochester for the first time. What I found was a city that felt less like a place I was visiting and more like a place that was quietly, warmly, inviting me to stay a while. Beechwood I spent a good chunk of my time in the Beechwood neighborhood, and it left an impression on me fast. There's a realness to it — the kind of neighborhood where people actually know each other, where community is

A Rochester Election Blog From Jomo K. Johnson With Election Day coming up this November here in Monroe County — governor, Congress, state legislature, and a stack of local races all on the ballot — I already know the question is coming. Somebody's going to corner me after service or slide into my DMs and ask, "Pastor Jomo, who should Christians vote for?" Here's my honest answer: I have no idea which party Jesus would register with. And neither does anyone else, no matter ho

Introducing Legacy Church — Launching September 28th By Jomo K. Johnson Somewhere along the way, our culture decided that turning 60 is the moment you quietly exit stage left. Retirement parties start sounding like eulogies. Birthday cards get a little too focused on "taking it easy." Even church — church, of all places — has a way of treating its elders like a stained-glass window: pretty, historic, and mostly there for decoration. I'm here to tell you Rochester's seniors ar

Jesus Is So Beautiful. MAGA Is Not. A Rochester Love Letter, With Some Receipts By Jomo K. Johnson Let's start with the obvious: Jesus had range. Turned water into wine at a wedding, flipped tables in a temple, and somehow still found time to have dinner with the one guy the whole town hated. If Jesus had a Netflix bio-pic, it'd be a genre-bending masterpiece — part rom-com, part heist film, part prophetic mic-drop. Fifteen seasons, no filler episodes, and somehow still slept