Richard Smallwood: A Final Farewell to Gospel’s Quiet Revolutionary

The hush that fell across the gospel community on December 30th, 2025 was not just the silence left by a departed voice—it was the end of an era.

Richard Smallwood, the man whose music became the heartbeat of countless worship services and personal moments of solace, slipped away quietly in Maryland, closing a chapter that spanned over half a century.

Born in Atlanta but raised in the vibrant, creative energy of Washington DC, Smallwood’s earliest memories were of piano keys and choir harmonies.

By age five, he was already composing, his childhood shaped by parents who recognized and nurtured his gift.

The city’s pulse—its struggles, its triumphs—became the backdrop to his musical education, infusing his work with both rigor and raw emotion.

Smallwood’s journey was never about chasing the spotlight.

Instead, he cultivated his craft in public schools and local churches, building a foundation that would later support a career of extraordinary impact.

When the Richard Smallwood Singers emerged in 1977, gospel music was forever changed.

Their debut album’s 87-week run on the Billboard charts was no fluke; it was the sound of a new kind of gospel—one that blended classical sophistication with spiritual fire.

His compositions, like “Center of My Joy” and “Total Praise,” became lifelines for those navigating hardship.

Smallwood wrote from experience, drawing on his own battles with depression to create songs that spoke honestly about pain and healing.

In an industry often hesitant to address mental health, he broke barriers, encouraging listeners to seek help and embrace vulnerability.

The reach of Smallwood’s music extended far beyond the church.

Whitney Houston’s rendition of “I Love the Lord” for the film “The Preacher’s Wife” introduced his work to new audiences, while performances for presidents and at national events cemented his status as a cultural ambassador.

Yet, despite eight Grammy nominations and induction into the Gospel Music Hall of Fame, Smallwood remained humble, insisting that music was his ministry—a way to connect with God and others.

As the years passed, health challenges slowed his public appearances.

Dementia and kidney issues crept in, but Smallwood’s spirit never dimmed.

He continued sharing music online, offering reflections during the pandemic that reminded fans of the enduring power of praise.

His final days were spent at Brook Grove Rehabilitation and Nursing Center, surrounded by loved ones, his passing marked by an outpouring of tributes from fans and fellow artists.

The details of Smallwood’s funeral remain unannounced, fueling speculation about an epic celebration befitting his legacy.

Social media buzzes with anticipation—will gospel luminaries like Fantasia or Jennifer Hudson lead the tributes? Will choirs from across the country gather to sing “Total Praise” one last time? The delay, say family members, is about honoring Smallwood’s wishes and allowing time for private grief.

For many, this goodbye is deeply personal.

Smallwood’s songs have been sung at funerals and weddings, played during moments of crisis and joy.

His influence can be seen in the work of younger artists, in the weekly worship of churches worldwide, and in the lives transformed by his message of hope and resilience.

As the gospel world prepares to celebrate Smallwood’s life, there is talk of scholarships for young musicians, memorial concerts, and perhaps a streamed service that allows fans everywhere to join in.

Whatever form the farewell takes, it will be more than a tribute—it will be a call to carry his melody forward, to keep singing in the face of adversity, and to honor the man who taught us that praise can rise from even the darkest places.

Richard Smallwood’s legacy is not just in the notes he wrote, but in the lives he touched.

His final goodbye is a reminder that music, at its best, is a conversation between souls—a dialogue that continues long after the last chord fades.