The Voice Before the Choice: How a Distinctive Voice Helped Shape the Ministry Journey of One of North Texas’ Most Influential Pastors.

The Voice Before the Choice: How a Distinctive Voice Helped Shape the Ministry Journey of One of North Texas’ Most Influential Pastors. Link: https://youtu.be/T7PeAaZkkwI

By Black Texans Staff

FORT WORTH, Texas — Long before he became a pastor, community advocate, public servant, and advisor to presidents, governors, mayors, district attorneys, county judges, and other leaders in positions of influence, Kyev P. Tatum, Sr. was known for something he did not choose and could not escape.

His voice.

For as long as he can remember, people noticed it.

Growing up on the historic Southeast Side of Fort Worth in the 76104 community, Tatum often found himself in trouble at school because of it.

The truth is, he was always talking.

He was always laughing.

He was always joking.

He was always engaging with people.

Teachers knew his name, classmates knew his personality, and administrators often knew where to find him. Yet those who knew him best understood there was a difference between being a troublemaker and simply being talkative.

Kyev Tatum was not a troublemaker.

He was a communicator.

“I was always talking,” Tatum says with a smile. “I stayed in trouble because I was always talking. But I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. I just enjoyed talking to people.”

What made matters worse—or perhaps better, depending on how one looks at it—was that his voice carried.

A conversation in one corner of the classroom could be heard in another. A joke shared with a friend often became public knowledge.

“When Kyev spoke, people listened, whether he intended them to or not,” recalled the late Pastor Isadore Edwards of Rising Star Baptist Church, a former confidant of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. during King’s work in Florida and one of Fort Worth’s most respected pastors and civil rights leaders.

At the time, his voice sometimes felt like a burden.

As a child, Tatum could not understand why something so natural attracted so much attention. Yet years later, he would come to realize that God was using those countless conversations to develop something much deeper than confidence.

God was developing a voice.

Not simply a loud voice.

A clear voice.

A voice capable of connecting with people from every walk of life.

Long before he became a pastor, and long before he accepted his call to preach on October 2, 1997, Kyev Tatum’s voice was being developed in the Black church.

Before he ever advised elected officials, he learned to speak before ordinary people.

Before he ever addressed presidents, governors, mayors, district attorneys, county judges, and other leaders in positions of influence, he stood before Sunday School classes, youth groups, church programs, and congregations throughout Southeast Fort Worth.

Before microphones, podiums, press conferences, and legislative chambers, there were neighborhood churches where young Kyev learned to read Scripture, teach lessons, deliver presentations, participate in church programs, and speak before audiences.

The church became his first classroom.

The congregation became his first audience.

The fellowship hall became his first stage.

There, pastors, church mothers, deacons, Sunday School teachers, youth directors, and community elders nurtured his gift. They taught him that speaking was not merely about being heard. It was about communicating with clarity, conviction, and purpose.

Kyev was not a preacher then.

He was a student.

A layman.

A teacher.

A young leader learning how words could inform, inspire, influence, and encourage people.

What appeared to be ordinary church activities were actually preparing him for extraordinary assignments that neither he nor those around him could fully see at the time.

Years later, when he accepted his call to preach on October 2, 1997, he would discover that God had been preparing his voice long before he made the choice to use it in ministry.

Editor Gayle Reeves once described Tatum’s voice as “ominous.”

Not ominous in the sense of danger, but ominous in the sense of expectation.

It was a voice that caused people to pause.

A voice that suggested something important was about to be said.

For Tatum, the description captured something he had experienced throughout his life.

“Some people are noticed because of how they look,” he says. “I’ve always been noticed because of how I sound.”

Looking back, it seems clear that God was developing more than a voice.

He was preparing a messenger.

The talking became communication.

The communication became leadership.

The leadership became advocacy.

And the advocacy became ministry.

The voice followed him from neighborhood football fields to Trimble Technical High School.

From Trimble Tech to Tarleton State University and the 1984 Aztec Bowl.

From Tarleton State to the University of North Texas.

From the University of North Texas to Texas Woman’s University.

From Texas Woman’s University to Texas State University.

And from Texas State University back home to Fort Worth and the New Mount Rose Missionary Baptist Church.

At every stop, the voice matured.

On college campuses, it spoke for students.

In university administration, it advocated for fairness and opportunity.

In public meetings, it challenged institutions.

In classrooms, it encouraged young people.

In churches, it taught, testified, and inspired.

At the Texas Capitol in Austin, it carried into rooms of influence.

Across Texas and throughout the nation, it resonated with reason, reassurance, and renewal.

The voice traveled far, but its roots remained firmly planted in the Southeast Side of Fort Worth.

It had been shaped in 76104.

It had been nurtured in the Black church.

It had been refined in higher education.

It had been strengthened through public service.

And ultimately, it returned home.

At New Mount Rose Missionary Baptist Church, the voice found both a pulpit and a purpose.

There, the communicator became a preacher.

The teacher became a pastor.

The advocate became a shepherd.

And the voice that once echoed through classrooms, football fields, and fellowship halls became a voice of hope for an entire community.

Throughout that journey, Tatum’s voice has resonated with reason, reassurance, and renewal.

It has challenged injustice.

It has encouraged the discouraged.

It has comforted the grieving.

It has inspired volunteers.

It has mobilized communities.

And it has helped reinvigorate the souls of countless people searching for hope.

Those who know him best often note that the power of his voice is not found merely in its volume, but in its conviction.

When Tatum speaks about hunger, health disparities, educational opportunity, historic preservation, economic mobility, faith, or justice, listeners hear more than words.

They hear urgency.

They hear compassion.

They hear belief.

Ironically, the very thing that once caused frustration in childhood became one of his greatest assets in adulthood.

The boy who was told to quiet down became a preacher.

The student whose voice carried across the classroom became a leader whose voice carries across communities.

The child who often got in trouble for talking too loudly became a man whose voice now speaks for people who are too often unheard.

The loud voice that teachers once corrected became the voice that comforts families, challenges systems, celebrates victories, and calls communities to action.

Looking back now, Pastor Kyev P. Tatum, Sr. believes the voice was never an accident.

It was preparation.

God gave him the voice before He gave him the choice.

The voice came before the calling.

The gift came before the assignment.

Long before there was a pulpit, there was a voice.

Long before there was a congregation, there was a message.

Long before there was a pastor, there was a young boy from Fort Worth’s Southeast Side whose voice carried farther than he understood.

What felt like a burden in the classroom became a blessing in the community.

What drew correction from teachers would one day draw crowds.

What made him stand out as a child would prepare him to stand up for others as a man.

And long before Pastor Kyev P. Tatum, Sr. became known throughout Texas, children on the Southeast Side of Fort Worth already knew what college students, university leaders, elected officials, congregations, communities, and families would later discover:

When Kyev started talking, people listened.