Dani Kilgore is the lead pastor of Church Without Walls, a Covenant congregation in Berkeley, California. She also serves as vice chair of the Covenant Ministerium and was recently elected president of the African American Minister’s Association (AAMA). She sat down with the Companion to discuss her path into Covenant ministry and how it led to where she is now. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
How did you get connected to the Covenant?
I grew up in the Dallas / Fort Worth area of Texas, in Arlington, where the Cowboys play. Most of my upbringing was in white communities, so for college, I wanted to go to an HBCU (historically black college or university), which is how I ended up going to Clark Atlanta University.
While I was in Atlanta, a friend of mine at Spelman College invited me to New Fellowship Covenant Church in Decatur, because her mom was the children’s ministry director. I really liked the church, and after I graduated, when I was looking for a church home, I remembered my experience and went to look for that church in Decatur—by then it had changed names and became Kingdom Builders Covenant Church. At that point, I had no idea the Covenant was a denomination. I thought it was just part of the church’s name. But the people were very kind, so I kept going and started serving in ministry there. I served on their marketing team and then in the youth ministry.
At one point, I remember the pastor telling me, “Hey, I want you to take this group to an event called CHIC.” I asked, “What is that? What does that stand for?” And he said, “Don’t worry about it, just go.”
I was married by that point, so my husband and I took our Ford Explorer, and the youth pastor took his white passenger van, and we bused around 14 kids to CHIC (now Unite). Because it was such a last-minute thing, we got a one-day pass to the event. We didn’t even stay on campus—we stayed at an off-site rental nearby.
When we showed up, I was like, “What is this? Where are we?” It was the scale of the event. We felt like tiny little specks. We were like small potatoes in this denomination, we didn’t even know existed. And every church was a Covenant church!
We were only there for one day, but I knew I wanted to return. At the time, I was serving as the youth director, so when the other youth leader left that role, I continued leading the ministry. While looking for resources for my students, I discovered Average Youth Ministry, by Ben Kerns, a Covenant youth ministry coach. That led me to hear about Youth Workers Connection (now NextGen Conference), and I knew I needed to be there. I reached out to Dr. Robert Owens, who was superintendent of the Southeast Conference, and began doing some part-time work for the conference to help cover my expenses to attend.
Sounds like you were motivated.
Yes, absolutely. I kept going to Youth Workers Connection, and I felt like a small fish in a big ocean—there were so many people, and I didn’t know anyone yet. Then I met Ruby Varghese, and she put me in a group with folks from the Alaska, Midsouth, and Canada conferences—other smaller conferences like the Southeast. That’s when I understood why it was called Youth Workers Connection—because we truly connected! Many of those relationships remain strong to this day. Eventually, I became the Southeast Conference’s youth coach and the 2015 CHIC liaison. That year, we achieved the biggest percentage increase in attendance and even had T-shirts made with the Drake phrase “started from the bottom, now we’re here.” I’m a people collector, so when I’m motivated and you’re open to it, I’ll find a way to connect with you. Sadly, I couldn’t attend that CHIC because I was pregnant and my daughter arrived early, but I was so proud of what we accomplished together.
What was your call process into a deeper level of pastoral ministry?
After I had Harper, I was working full-time as a teacher. I loved teaching, but I began to sense God calling me toward something deeper in ministry. I had been discerning that call for some time, and one evening while I was sitting on the floor of our apartment feeding Harper and my husband, Will, was washing dishes, he turned to me and said, “Hey, I just want you to know, if you ever want to move and work for the denomination or something, I would be open to it.” That simple, unexpected statement felt like God’s confirmation of what had already been stirring in my spirit—especially since Will, who was born and raised in Atlanta, wasn’t quick to imagine moving elsewhere.
As I continued to discern, I attended the Youth Workers Connection in 2016 and stayed for the opening session of Midwinter. I had meaningful conversations there with Ben Kerns, Matt Aalseth, Tim Ciccone, and Ginny Olson about my sense of call. In 2017, Marco Ambriz approached me about a youth pastor position at First Covenant Church of Oakland, but the idea of moving to California felt daunting, so we declined. Later, I realized I hadn’t truly considered what God might be saying, so I promised God that if he opened a door again, I would walk through it.
The next year, Ben Kerns mentioned an outreach and missions role at Marin Covenant Church, where he serves. Coming from the South, I misunderstood what “missions” and “outreach” meant—I pictured passing out tracts or moving overseas, so I initially said no. When I shared that with Matt Aalseth, he reframed it for me: outreach was about helping people feel loved and seen, creating platforms for others to share their work, and connecting the church to meet needs in the local community. Once I understood that, I realized I could do that, and I applied.
People sometimes tell me they want to be a pastor “like me,” but becoming a pastor wasn’t the plan. Honestly, I didn’t choose to be a pastor—the calling chose me. I was supposed to have Beyoncé’s job! But my goal has always been to remain faithful to God’s calling and to keep saying yes. In this season, that calling just happens to look like pastoral ministry.
Tell us about Church Without Walls.
When I was transitioning out of Marin Covenant Church, I heard from Jean Cheng Gorman that a new church had an opening for a lead pastor. Then, while on a visioning trip to visit the Hindustani Covenant Church in India with Serve Globally and Church Without Walls (CWOW), I saw that opening posted. It immediately intrigued me and spoke to the kind of ministry that’s core to who I am.
CWOW started as a church plant from InterVarsity alumni back in 1997 and joined the Covenant in 2012. There’s even a photo of Efrem Smith laying hands on our leadership team back when he was the superintendent of the Pacific Southwest Conference. This community is deeply rooted in the kind of ministry I feel called to lead, and I now serve as their third pastor.
You’re also serving as president of AAMA. How did you first get connected there?
While I was serving at Marin Covenant, I finally attended the full Midwinter conference, and one of the highlights was stepping into the AAMA gathering. Serving as the only person of color on staff can be isolating, so to walk into a room where my experiences didn’t need translation—where I could breathe, laugh loudly, and just be—was life-giving.
At the same time, I couldn’t help noticing that while my Blackness was reflected in that room, other parts of who I am weren’t as visible. I was young—barely 30—and female, and in that space those intersections were rare. That awareness didn’t take away from the gift of belonging; it actually made me more determined to keep showing up, because presence is part of how change begins.
In 2020, Pastor Mike Thomas invited me to join a panel with my friend Aisha Cox on engaging millennials. That conversation reminded me of the beauty of our intergenerational and communal wisdom—elders, peers, and emerging leaders pouring into one another.
The next year, they were taking nominations from the floor for secretary of AAMA. My buddy Maurice—Aisha’s husband—elbowed me and said, “Don’t you want to do that?” I told him, “No, I’m good. I can’t take notes and pay attention at the same time. You don’t want me on anybody’s board—those are not my strengths.” No one volunteered, so the meeting moved on.
That’s when I spotted Dr. Robert Owens heading toward the front—or so I thought. But no, he was coming straight for me. He leaned down and said, “Hey look, I’m about to call your name out in a second, and when you hear it, don’t even worry about it. Just say yes.”
Here’s the thing: in our community, we deeply honor our elders. Sometimes they see leadership in us before we see it in ourselves. When an elder like Dr. Owens taps you, you don’t take that lightly.
Sure enough, the president recognized Dr. Owens, who said, “The elders and I have conferred, and we would like to reopen nominations for secretary.” He called my name, someone seconded, and when the “All in favor?” went up, so did a lot of hands. Then came, “Any opposed?”—and I half-jokingly raised mine and said, “Uh…me?” But we talked, I prayed, and I accepted.
I loved serving as AAMA secretary for two years. It gave me a chance to help strengthen our communication, connect leaders across regions, and make space for voices that might not always be heard. Last year, I became first vice president, and not long after, President Rev. Edrin Williams stepped down to focus on his church. The executive board voted to approve me as the new president.
Now, as I finish Rev. Edrin’s term, my priorities are to strengthen the structure we’ve been known for, nurture the sisterhood I longed for in those early years, and keep AAMA an intergenerational space where everyone—no matter their gifts or skills—is seen, heard, and valued. My goal is to help the next generation of leaders build upon the strong foundation laid by those who came before us, so the AAMA continues to grow in unity, diversity, and vibrancy for years to come.
