Bishop Terry Hill Jr.

Bishop Terry Hill Jr. doesn’t just speak these words—he lives them. With decades in ministry, two daughters, six goddaughters, and two godsons, Hill still stands in awe of the sacred tension between strength and vulnerability, leadership and submission, manhood and sonship.

For the Father’s Day issue, we sat down with this self-described “church kid” whose journey to the pulpit began with a fifth-grade car accident—and whose walk with God has deepened through both triumph and failure, joy and regret, presence and absence.

The Genesis of Faith

Before he was Bishop Hill, he was simply a child reaching for God. Struck by a car in the fifth grade, the experience catapulted him into an early, deeply personal walk with Christ. “God became my God very young,” he recalls. “I’ve known Him as protector, provider, corrector—everything you read about. I’ve needed every version of Him. And I still do.”

Now, at 51, his faith isn’t abstract; it’s incarnational. He embodies it, not perfectly but authentically, marked by what he calls “the privilege of experiencing God in all His forms.”

Fatherhood: The Great Reordering

Hill’s voice softens when he speaks about his daughters. “Before them, I was selfish, ambitious, focused on building ministry,” he says. “But when my daughter hit the earth, my priorities shifted. It wasn’t about me anymore. It was about what I needed to be for them.”
His role as a father changed not only how he viewed his responsibilities but also how he saw God: “To love someone so much that you would come down and fix what they can’t? That’s divine. That’s God. And I understand that better as a father.”

Still, he admits, there have been missteps. One of the most pivotal came during a quiet conversation on the patio with his youngest daughter. She shared a memory from when she was six or seven—times she felt he wasn’t fully present. That moment, he says, “taught me the need to lean on God not just as strength, but as nurturer—El Shaddai, the many-breasted one. The parent.”

A New Kind of Fathering

Raised by a strong, devoted father himself, Hill had a template to follow—but also patterns to break. “My dad was amazing—present, protective, hardworking—but not expressive. You got a side hug, a firm handshake, maybe ‘I love you’ a few times a year.”

That made him determined to show love differently. “When I had daughters, I told them ‘I love you’ every day. I didn’t want them to wonder.”

And just recently, a 13-year-old boy from his congregation asked him to be his godfather. “He has a dad and men in his life, but still had a void. That told me the need is great. And it reminded me: people are watching. Their eyes are on you. You’ve got to live as an example.”

Struggles, Breakthroughs, and a Life on His Knees

For Bishop Hill, being a father didn’t just change his schedule—it changed his prayer life. From praying for provision when they were babies to now praying for their protection as they navigate adulthood, fatherhood keeps him on his knees.

He laughs as he reflects, “If you don’t know how to pray, children will teach you.” And with the laughter come the tears. Hill doesn’t pretend that faith is always polished.

“Authentic relationships come with struggle,” he says. “Every week, I disappoint someone, but not God. He knows me. That’s comforting, but also challenging. He knows where I’m undisciplined. And that pushes me to become who He knows I can be.”

Living the Example

Rather than preach perfection, Hill models transparency. His daughters, now grown, don’t just admire his sermons—they admire his life. Through what he calls “patio moments,” they call, ask, and lean into his walk with God.

“I stay dad, in those moments,” he says. “I don’t try to make an example; I try to be one.”
And when your family trusts your relationship with God? “That,” he says, “is a mark of success.”

Changing the Narrative

Hill is candid about the reputation fathers often receive, especially Black fathers. “We have bad PR,” he says flatly. “But here’s how we change it: consistency and advocacy. Fathers who do it right must continue to do it right. And we need people who’ll tell those stories.”

He pauses, the weight of that truth settling in. “We don’t need perfect fathers. We need present ones. And we need people to see them.”

Biblical Anchors

Psalm 78:72 is his guidepost:
“So he fed them according to the integrity of his heart and guided them by the skillfulness of his hands.”

“That’s who I want to be,” he says. “Let my heart’s integrity feed others. Let my skillfulness guide them.” And perhaps the most profound lesson he’s learned comes from the life of Jesus: never stop being a son. “We try to be everything to everyone,” he says. “But we must remember—we’re still children. And we need our Father.”

The Ongoing Journey

“There’s no fixed destination in fatherhood,” Hill reflects. “It’s a journey of becoming. Of developing. Of asking God to fill the gaps we leave behind.”

With daughters who love both God and the very church their parents built, and with young men now calling him godfather, Bishop Hill is not just talking the talk—he’s walking the walk.

And in a world desperate for real examples, he’s one of the ones standing in the gap. Still learning. Still leaning. Still becoming.