Elijah Ferebee, Chaplain of Frostburg State University in Frostburg, MD
October 19, 2025, Baltimore-Washington Conference United Methodist Men Annual Gathering.
The morning sun was just beginning to rise as I pulled into the parking lot, the crisp air filling my lungs with anticipation. Today was special—it was my first time attending a United Methodist Men's event. I'd always been around United Methodist men, and I considered myself one, but there was something different
about being in a space dedicated to brotherhood and spiritual growth. It was an honor and a privilege, and I couldn’t wait to learn and glean from the experiences of the men gathered here.
As I stepped inside, I couldn’t help but think of a conversation I had earlier that morning. A good friend of mine was contemplating marriage. “We’re keeping it simple,” he had told me. “Just a courthouse ceremony. No big wedding.”
I had laughed and said, “I get it—budget is a thing. Sometimes you pay for the
ceremony, and then what do you have afterward? A repass?” He had paused. “A repass? That’s for funerals, man.”
I chuckled, realizing my mistake. “My bad. I’ve been to too many funerals this year.”
The room was filled with laughter as I recounted the story, but beneath the humor, there was a deeper truth—life is fleeting, and our connections, our relationships, and our faith are what truly matter.
As I looked around the room, I reflected on my own journey. Outside of my role as the university chaplain at Frostburg State, I was part of the 70% of men who had grown up without a father in the home. During my college years, I was constantly
seeking—mentorship, guidance, a sense of belonging. That’s when I met Reverend
Delano Douglas, the university chaplain at the time. It’s funny how God works—everyone who knew us back then swears we switched places. But Reverend Douglas did more than just guide me; he created opportunities for me to serve.
He saw something in me before I saw it in myself.
Like many of you, I wasn’t necessarily raised in the church. My family had deep
Pentecostal and Methodist roots, but by the time I came along, the noise of the world had drowned out the call of faith. Still, that fire of God burned within me. Reverend Douglas gave me a place to fan the flames, leading me into mentorship programs, community service, and eventually campus ministry.
I never intended to go into ministry. I wanted to be a counselor, a therapist. But God had other plans.
That’s why I want to encourage you today—our work isn’t in vain. Even when we don’t see the results we expect, even when attendance at our events is low, even when young men seem disinterested in faith, God is already doing the work in their hearts.
I saw it firsthand when I arrived at Frostburg. I was discouraged at first. This
generation—unlike ours—wasn’t raised in church. Many had no foundational knowledge of the Bible. Some had never even heard of the Ten Commandments.
At first, I saw this as a challenge. But then I realized—it was an opportunity.
We weren’t just dealing with young men who had turned away from the church; we were reaching young men who had never even been introduced to Christ. That meant there were no bad experiences to unlearn, no church hurt to heal from.
Their hearts were open, searching.
I’ll never forget a young woman I once met. She was on fire for God, with a soul far
older than her twenty years. One night, during a Christmas gathering, she suggested we walk through campus chanting, “Go, Jesus! Go, Jesus, go!”
I looked at her and said, “Terry, we’re not doing that.”
She was confused. “Why not?”
“Because we’re already the odd ones out as Christians. I’ve made my peace with that.
But I’m not about to be out here yelling ‘Go, Jesus’ in the middle of campus.”
She shrugged and kept her enthusiasm, but it made me think—maybe I was wrong. Maybe boldness looks different for different people. And maybe, just maybe, there were young men and women watching us, waiting to see how we carried ourselves in faith.
I came to understand that discipleship isn’t always about standing on a stage and
preaching. Sometimes it’s about mentorship. Sometimes it’s about service. Sometimes it’s about simply showing up.
At Frostburg, we started a Black Men’s Coalition to address issues of retention—academic struggles, financial barriers, and mental health challenges. We took a group of young men to a mental health conference at Coppin State, where we
discussed the struggles that many of them faced—depression, anxiety, ncertainty
about their futures.
During one session, an older brother stood up and admitted something powerful.
“I want to reach out to these young men,” he said. “But I’m afraid. I don’t know if they’ll listen. I don’t know if they’ll respect me. And as a man, being disrespected is one of the worst things.”
His vulnerability struck me. It’s a fear many of us have. We want to guide, but we don’t know if we’ll be received.
But the truth is—young men are watching. They are listening. They may not come to Bible study, but they’ll show up for community service. They may not sing in the choir, but they’ll help set up for an event. They may not be ready to walk
through campus chanting, “Go, Jesus!”—but they are eager to learn, to be mentored, to be discipled.
And that’s where we come in. We don’t have to do this alone. Partnerships matter. Just yesterday, I took some of my guys to a Lions Club event in Lavale, Maryland. They needed young hands to help with their massive barbecue fundraiser—6,400 chickens on the grill. My young men didn’t show up for the morning shift, but they came to the afternoon shift, ready to work.
That’s how we build relationships. That’s how we show them that faith isn’t just about Sunday morning—it’s about service, about brotherhood, about walking alongside one another.
Ministry can be exhausting. I won’t lie—there are days I am tired. But when I see these young men step up, when I see them grow, when I see the seeds being planted, I know that it’s worth it.
So to my brothers here today—be encouraged. Keep serving. Keep showing up. Keep mentoring. Because even if you only reach one, that one will reach back. And that’s how God’s kingdom grows.
Amen.
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