A Hilltop pastor with a checkered past became a Tacoma icon. Now he’s leaving the pulpit
One thing about being a columnist in this town — or one of them. Tacoma is small. You get to know people.
As a journalist, it can be tricky. Connections define the human experience — and they produce the best stories. But professionally and ethically, crossing the line with someone and veering into an actual friendship creates headaches. Reporters often refer to their contacts as “sources.” It’s one of the ways we keep people at arm’s length, just like the hard-nosed reporters in the movies.
The idealistic proposition has a fatal flaw, though: It’s almost impossible to pull off.
If you do this long enough, particularly in Tacoma — particularly with even an ounce of sincerity — bonds are built.
People tell you their stories. Trust develops, because doing this job requires it.
Pastor Gregory Christopher, who has held down the pulpit at Shiloh Baptist Church on Hilltop for 23 years and counting, personifies this conundrum, at least in my book. He also underscores why there’s an exception to every rule.
Is Christopher a friend? Not exactly: we’ve never barbecued and no party invitations have been exchanged.
We have forged an honest and sincere kinship, and, over time, I’ve come to regard him as one of Tacoma’s absolute finest.
In February, Christopher will retire from his post at Shiloh Baptist, he explained this week from the office he’ll soon vacate. It’s why I’m writing this column. His successor, a longtime youth pastor at the church, has already been chosen.
It was a difficult decision, the 66-year-old Christopher told me.
Ultimately, it was influenced by a desire to spend time with his ailing wife, the realization that it was time to pass the baton and his unwavering belief in God’s ability to lead him, he said.
On Hilltop, Christopher has created a legacy that puts him on hallowed ground, worthy of mention in the same breath as the legendary Black faith leaders who came before in Tacoma, including the late Rev. Earnest Brazill, his mentor at Shiloh Baptist.
Christopher has welcomed the needy, fed the hungry, housed the homeless and guided one of Tacoma’s foremost Black churches into the future. Along the way, he’s possessed the humility and humanity to evolve.
For me, Christopher’s magnetism is simple: He’s one of the most decent, genuine and authentic people I’ve had the pleasure of covering — and getting to know.
When Christopher steps down from the pulpit early next year, the loss for Tacoma and the Hilltop neighborhood will be profound. On a personal level, I will miss having Christopher to call on.
He’s a leader who modestly epitomizes so many of the things I cherish about this imperfect town, regardless of denomination or differing faiths.
Checkered past
Like any pact, ours has an origin story.
I met Christopher not long after being hired at The News Tribune, but it wasn’t until 2017, when he launched what would ultimately be an unsuccessful bid for Tacoma City Council, that our connection put down its roots.
It was complicated; you could see it in the lines on Christopher’s face, strained with vulnerability. He believed he had something to offer; that’s why he was running.
To do so, however, Christopher knew he had to come clean — to a general public that had never listened to him preach from the Shiloh Baptist pews.
Christopher had to explain a past many would never understand, accept or forgive, he realized — including his battle with addiction as a young adult, his criminal record and the time he spent in prison. The prospect scared him.
For some reason, Christopher chose me to tell his story.
“I’m not sure that Tacoma is going to embrace this, but what I do know is I need to be upfront with them about it,” Christopher confided from a back table at Red Elm on Hilltop, after unburdening himself and detailing his lengthy rap sheet.
In particular, Christopher recalled the armed robbery of a Lakewood jewelry store in 1984, a crime he committed when he was in his 20s, not far removed from his service in the Army and consumed by an addiction to crack cocaine.
It was a mistake that still filled him with guilt.
It also served as a constant reminder of the flaws we all possess, a truth that influenced the person he became, Christopher explained.
“One of the reasons I didn’t try to get more involved in politics sooner, by running for office, is because of my past,” said Christopher, who served more than four years behind bars in two states for his role in the robbery and other drug-related crimes.
“I didn’t think this was even a possibility for me,” he added.
Ultimately, voters did not bestow Christopher with a term on the City Council, but you already knew that. What role his criminal background played in the failed election bid is impossible to say.
What’s certain?
In the years that have followed, Christopher has found plenty of ways to make positive change in a neighborhood he cares deeply about — most of them far more tangible than politics — including spearheading an effort to develop 60 units of affordable housing across the street from Shiloh Baptist and convincing his congregation to support the creation of a much-needed shelter for unhoused men in the church’s basement.
It took guts, courage and conviction — just like his decision to be open and transparent about his life’s transgressions.
Most of all, it required a selfless willingness to embody the power of redemption and unconditional love, even when it was difficult and the stakes were high.
It’s a risk he willingly took, knowing the potential for public scorn and condemnation was real, because the possibility of helping someone outweighed all the negatives.
It’s a quality Patricia Adams, who runs the kitchen at Shiloh Baptist — providing three meals a day, seven days a week to anyone who needs it — has always appreciated, she said.
Adams joined the Shiloh Baptist congregation in 2015, she told me, and is now active in a long list of ministry efforts.
Like Christopher, Adams has regrets of her own, including the time she spent selling drugs to support a lifestyle that she now realizes prioritized money over things that mattered more.
In Christopher, Adams said she’s found a role model and servant leader who has been instrumental in helping her turn things around and dedicate her life to something far more meaningful.
“He gives everybody a chance, and I like that about him,” said Adams, who established herself as a “neighborhood cook” on Hilltop even before she was hired to run Shiloh Baptist’s kitchen full-time.
“We have a lot of people out there that have been through the same thing, but they’d rather hide it,” Adams told me.
“I relate to his story, and a lot of people in there relate to it, too, because everyone has something.
“God won’t turn anybody down; he’s Christlike in that way.”
Difficult decision
The first time I got a glimpse of Christopher’s defining character we were seated in a busy Hilltop coffee shop, discussing the checkered past he prayed Tacoma voters would forgive.
This week, when I sat down with him at Shiloh Baptist, it was another tough conversation, for very different reasons.
Christopher’s office is modest, full of pictures and memories accumulated throughout a distinguished career — one that began when he took over for Brazill, following the icon’s death in 2000.
They were sizable shoes to fill, he acknowledged. Brazill has a Hilltop street named after him for a reason, after all, and Christopher was much younger when he took over at Shiloh Baptist, lacking the lifetime of experience his predecessor carried with him.
Brazil was a titan, Christopher noted, and a father figure to many, including him.
Christopher has tried his best to live up to the challenge he inherited, he told me, in the only way he knows how — by being himself and graciously making space for change.
He’s grown alongside the church, he indicated, including in his beliefs and his ability to love and support those within the Shiloh Baptist congregation and beyond, without judgment.
In particular, Christopher acknowledged that, like many local faith leaders, his views on LGBTQ+ rights have evolved over the last two decades. He’s now more accepting than he once was.
The platform he’s had at Shiloh Baptist to help those around him is what makes his decision to retire early next year so hard, Christopher suggested.
His gut tells him to step down and let someone else carry the torch. Rev. Chavis Young has been selected for the job, approved with more than 90% support from a congregation that still boasts more than 500 members, and Christopher is confident he’s up to the task.
Still, Christopher’s emotions are “all over the place,” he said; all he has is his faith to guide him.
His wife’s health is failing; there’s a cancer diagnosis, he told me.
Some day, before it’s too late, Christopher would like to return to his roots — in particular Louisiana, where he was born — and serve what he describes as a “small county church” where peach cobbler is currency.
For now, he’s taking it day by day, content to let a higher power show him the way.
Christopher plans to stay active. Recently, he agreed to join the tiny congregation at St. Paul Baptist Church on South 19th, he explained, where he plans to help a church “with probably only 10 members” in any way he can.
Bishop Prentis Johnson, who leads Greater Christ Temple Church on South 19th and G Street, isn’t surprised.
Johnson has worked closely with Christopher over the last, including as a fellow member of the Tacoma Ministerial Alliance. Both have been involved with the nonprofit organization, which has historic ties to Tacoma’s Black churches, for more than a decade; Christopher is a former president of the organization.
“I think of Pastor Christopher as a change agent, an initiator and a creative innovator. He’s also a very sentimental person. I’ve seen tears come out of his eyes because he wanted to help people so much. Any time someone has that kind of compassion for people, they’re really showing the love of God,” said Johnson, becoming emotional in the process.
“He’s shown the love of God through his actions and through his works,” Johnson added.
“I think his motivation is love for the Lord Jesus Christ … but the biggest thing is he loves people, and his past experiences have helped him to understand how to help others.”
Kiara Daniels, who was elected to an at-large position on the Tacoma City Council in 2021, has seen Christopher’s impact firsthand.
Daniels said Christopher’s influence on Hilltop is evident, in obvious and subtle ways. She credited the retiring pastor with helping area residents get vaccinated during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, supporting small businesses on Hilltop and facilitating important conversations around the construction of Sound Transit Link light rail, including working to ensure neighborhood residents benefited from the family wage jobs the project promised.
“Pastor Christopher has played a tremendous role in the community, not only for those who attend religious services. So many more have benefited,” Daniels said. “He has truly exemplified leadership in the faith community. I’m so inspired by his work, and excited to see how it will live on for years to come.”
For now, Christopher said he’s focusing on the present — and what comes next.
The full weight of his decision to retire from Shiloh Baptist only recently hit him, he explained, and — like so many of the parishioners he’s counseled during his career — he’s struggled to make sense of it.
Christopher feels called in a different direction, he said, but facing the finality of the new chapter he’s preparing to embark on has been harder than even he expected.
At this point, there’s no going back, Christopher indicated.
All he has is his faith.
“About three weeks ago, I felt the grief setting in. So I’m wrestling with that, naturally. … It’s not going to be as easy as I’ve tried to project,” Christopher admitted of his decision to retire from Shiloh Baptist.
“The church has loved me and embraced me — and given me what I didn’t get coming up,” he added.
Christopher has done the same thing for those around him, I reminded him.
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” Christopher told me — as he so often has over the years.
This story was originally published December 14, 2023 at 5:00 AM.
