HOPE IN AN ENVELOPE 2 Corinthians 3:2: The Enduring Legacy of a Buffalo Soldier’s Ministry: God’s Glory in the Journey of Rev. Julius and Martha Leach.

HOPE IN AN ENVELOPE 2 Corinthians 3:2: The Enduring Legacy of a Buffalo Soldier’s Ministry: God’s Glory in the Journey of Rev. Julius and Martha Leach

#EnduringLegacy

EAST TEXAS, From Arp, Texas, to Pittsburg, Texas, from Tyler, Texas, to Overton, Texas—the remarkable legacy of Rev. Julius Leach and Martha Leach lives on powerfully through their descendants.

We carry their souls like a sacred breeze—Rev. Julius Leach, Big Daddy, and Martha Leach, our Big Mama. Their lives were deeply rooted in East Texas soil, nourished by the steadfast faith of generations, and watered by the sacrifices of those who came before.

Our story begins long before our time—in the 1840s—when Rev. J.D. James arrived with his family, household goods, and nearly 300 enslaved African Americans to a place called Overton, Texas, once known as Jamestown. By day, white residents worshiped; by afternoon, our enslaved ancestors gathered beneath a humble brush arbor to lift their voices to the heavens. From those simple beginnings, El Bethel Missionary Baptist Church was born—a spiritual lighthouse that would illuminate the path for our family and community for generations to come.

Through the decades, El Bethel nurtured leaders—Jessie Rowe, Reuben Wright, Dr. S.S. Stephens, and others—who carried the torch through wars, Reconstruction, and the Great Migration. Then, in the 1940s, a young Julius Leach—our Big Daddy—answered the call to serve his country during World War II. Like the Buffalo Soldiers who blazed trails before him, he bore the mantle with quiet dignity, unwavering discipline, and a heart committed to duty.

After the war, Big Daddy was born in Arp, Texas, and Big Mama was born in Pittsburg, Texas. They later made their home in Tyler, Texas. In 1968, Big Daddy served as pastor of Center Point Baptist Church in Pittsburg, faithfully shepherding that congregation. In the early 1970s, he took the helm at historic El Bethel Missionary Baptist Church in Overton, preaching with the steady conviction of a man seasoned by both war and the challenges of serving small towns in East Texas.

At his side stood Martha—our Big Mama—who was the heart and hearth, the warmth that filled Sunday dinners, and the quiet pillar who upheld Big Daddy’s ministry. Whether hosting visitors, preparing meals, or guiding the church’s children, Big Mama embodied the grace, strength, and wisdom of a Proverbs 31 woman.

Their years in Tyler were woven with service, song, and stories—pouring life into neighbors, friends, and fellow believers. Under Big Daddy’s watchful eye, El Bethel flourished in spirit. He knew every deacon, usher, and choir member by name. He prayed over the sick, laid to rest the departed, baptized the faithful, and comforted the grieving with a shepherd’s tender heart.

The spirit that carried Big Daddy and Big Mama forward can be found in the poem “Somebody Said That It Couldn’t Be Done” by Edgar Guest—a poem Big Mama taught to their children, who passed it down through generations. It was their spiritual anthem, a reminder to press on with faith and grit when faced with the impossible:

“Somebody said that it couldn’t be done,

But he with a chuckle replied

That ‘maybe it couldn’t,’ but he would be one

Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried…

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done, and he did it.”

Their lives were a living testament to this truth. No matter the obstacles—from battlefields to backroads, from segregation to small-town struggles—Big Daddy and Big Mama buckled in with a grin and sang as they tackled the things “that couldn’t be done.” And they did it.

Though history may list him simply among El Bethel’s pastors, we—his grandchildren and descendants—hold a deeper truth: Rev. Julius and Martha Leach did not merely lead a church—they nurtured and shepherded a community. Their love stood firm as the towering East Texas pines; their faith endured as surely as the red earth beneath our feet.

Today, when we visit Overton, we still hear his voice echoing from the streets and her laughter drifting through the wind. We see the long, luminous shadow of their example—stretching from Overton’s brush arbor to every life they touched. And we know, with profound gratitude, that we stand here because they walked faithfully before us—steadfast, fearless, and full of boundless love.

We are honored to be their grandchildren, and we pray that our lives reflect their legacy—that it never fades, but burns bright through every generation yet to come in Overton, Texas and beyond.