For a Camden pastor ‘born to preach,’ saving souls isn’t just for Sundays

Five decades ago, Bishop Edward “E.M.” Barron preached his first sermon at age 8 at a tent revival on a warm summer day in Charleston, S.C.

Churchgoers told his grandmother “that boy was born to preach.” They were right. He has been preaching ever since in Philadelphia and Camden — on street corners, from the pulpit, and for thousands of funerals for folks he had never met.

“I wanted to run and serve God. The same is still true today,” Barron said.

Barron, 58, was ordained in 1983 while attending Benedict College in Columbia, S.C. Today, he is the founder and spiritual leader of Higher Ground Temple Church of God in Christ in North Camden, which he started in 2002. He also is the head chaplain for the Camden County Metro Police Department and for several South Jersey funeral homes.

Today, Barron leads a thriving congregation with about 350 members, from professionals to parolees trying to make a fresh start. He is part of the spiritual fiber in a city with more than 100 houses of worship and leads a volunteer group of clergy who minister to officers in the Camden County Metro Police Department and the community, especially when a tragedy occurs.

“We realize that in terms of crimes, we need all the help we can get,” said Lt. Zsakhiem James, a community liaison.

It has been a circuitous path for Barron, a former U.S. Army officer, who landed in the area after a four-year military stint. After serving as an associate elder at Mt. Calvary Church of God in Camden, he was inspired by his mother, Louise, and heeded her advice 18 years ago to make a bold move to convert souls.

Standing on a milk crate at the Walter Rand Transportation Center in downtown Camden, Barron began preaching from that busy spot in 2002. His wife, Sharon, helped him pass out sandwiches and religious tracts to the homeless, commuters, and passersby.

“The church has become like the bus station. People get on and people get off,” Barron said.

The response was less than welcoming.

“They started laughing at me,” Barron recalled in a recent interview. “That made me more determined."

Barron kept going back, and one day several years later in the midst of the mostly uninterested crowd of about 50 people was Kevin Brown. He clung to every word and accepted Barron’s invitation to attend his church and has been a member since 2010.

“I thought he has to be all right to come down here and try to change people,” said Brown, 65, a retired landscaper and handyman. “The man has to be a preacher."

Brown, who had an epiphany that he said forced him to turn his life around, is among the 4,000 people Barron has baptized. Like Welcome Estevez, 27, of Pennsauken, who was homeless when he met Barron in February and now has a carpentry job and a place to live.

There also have been tragic endings for some, lost to Camden’s tough streets. Last year, while the church was in prayer on New Year’s Eve, a resident was found dead of an overdose in a lot two blocks away. Hundreds attended his funeral at the church.

“We can’t save them all,” Barron said. “We celebrate the ones we can.”

In the Police Department, he mentors youngsters and helps lead the Blue Knight Explorers program for teens interested in becoming police officers. He also has been chaplain for May Funeral Home and others and has conducted more than 2,500 services, many for strangers. He previously was an attendant, transporting bodies to May for burial preparation.

“He’s just a decent guy,” said Toni May, operations director for the family funeral business. "You can’t find a better person who wants to help people and spread the love of Jesus Christ. "

Barron started his church on Pine Street in South Camden with just a handful of members. In 2009, the Pentecostal congregation moved to its current location at Second and Vine in North Camden. There were drug dealers on the corners running open markets. Violence was an everyday threat.

The church is the former home of the Standard Theatre, which opened in 1923 and was later renamed the North Camden Theatre. In the 1950s, it became a live burlesque theater. It was vacant for a decade until Barron reactivated it.

Barron took on every role to build up the congregation. He continued his street outreach and drove the church van to pick up parishioners for Sunday service. He taught Sunday school, cleaned the church, led the youth choir, conducted Bible study weekly, and organized peace rallies to stop the violence. Today, he delegates most of those duties to focus on his preaching.

Residents flocked to the church, drawn by social and educational programs, such as a food bank that fed up to 1,000 people and distributed clothes once a month, an afterschool program, literacy classes, and summer camps, said Bryan Morton, who runs the North Camden Little League. The church cohosted a gun buyback in the city in 2017 where 2,100 weapons were surrendered.

“He is constantly trying to make sure the church is serving the community beyond saving souls on Sunday,” said Morton, 48, a longtime resident. “What I see him doing is reestablishing the role of the black church.”

A full-time pastor, Barron runs the church with his wife of 35 years. Members welcome his no-holds-barred preaching approach, punctuating his nearly two-hour services with humor and straight talk. At a recent funeral, he urged mourners to “find a preacher, not a pimp.”

“He’ll tell you the truth, and when he has to chastise me, I’ll take it,” said Marion Ella Person, 82, of Camden, one of the oldest church members. “He’s an amazing man of God.”

Added Ebony Johnson, 14, a freshman at Pennsauken High School: “At least he doesn’t sugarcoat anything. But he lets you know right after that that he loves you.”

Elder Michael Stibich, 47, was a lay speaker at United Methodist Church in Atco when he began visiting Higher Ground nearly five years ago after meeting Barron at a Camden bank. The only white member of the ministry leadership team, Stibich said he was drawn to the predominantly black church.

“People are people. Color really shouldn’t matter,” Stibich said.

During a recent worship service, Barron titled his sermon “Hope in desperate times.” He led the jubilant congregation in song, with most on their feet with their hands raised in praise and a chorus of “hallelujah.” Eight new converts came forward and dedicated their lives to Christian service. Barron immediately assigned them to serve as ushers and led them in a practice march down the center aisle.

“It doesn’t matter that you have red bottoms, Gucci, three weaves, and six fingernails, you are a good candidate for the devil,” Barron preached to a burst of applause. He told the worshipers that regardless of their lifestyle or riches, they could fall out of fellowship.

The oldest of four, Barron credits his grandmother Bertha Richardson for his spiritual upbringing. Two brothers also are pastors and his sister is an evangelist. Barron was consecrated as a bishop in 2016.

“I want to save souls for the Lord," Barron said. “I want God to be pleased with my life.”