The curious allure of child preachers

An 11-year-old boy in the US has been ordained as a minister in his family's church, and also preaches at a number of local churches. He is the latest in a long history of American child preachers - so what is the appeal?

Ezekiel Stoddard's head pops up only just above the lectern as he stands to deliver his sermon.

He turns the pages of his notes with a flick of the hand and a flourish, and speaks quickly and insistently, punctuating his words with a regular "Amen" or "Hallelujah", as he hops from verse to verse.

He's 11 years old, but dressed like a gentleman.

"Are you ready?" he says a few minutes in, looking up at the crowd of eager faces. "I said 'Are you ready?'"

He repeats the question five times, before booming: "Are you ready for the resurrection of

But the show goes on. Ezekiel moves over to join his older sister Corrine, 15, and brothers Hezekiah, 13, and Micah, seven, who - together with 10-year-old Jasmine - form the gospel group, God's Blessings, No Chains Holding Me Down.

Standing in line, in order of height, they sing, swing, and click their fingers.

It's fun, catchy, foot-tapping stuff, and the congregation at Christ Centered Missionary Baptist Church, in the east of Washington, DC, sway and clap to the beat.

Ezekiel is the frontman and, from time to time, breaks into a little rap.

One by one, members of the congregation - anything up to seven times Ezekiel's age - bend down to his height, and whisper into his ear. Ezekiel commands the devil to leave, or calls for healing.

One woman hunches down and begins to sob for a few minutes, before clenching her fist and summoning the strength to get back up.

"He's a remarkable young man," says Rev Hercules S Jones, who invited Ezekiel to his church to preach. "When he delivers the gospel, it's inspiring."

And it brings in the crowds. When Rev Jones asks how many are visiting this week, around one-third of hands shoot up.

"I came to see him and I really loved it," smiles 39-year-old Raquel Hall. "I thought he was extraordinary."

"He is awesome," says Daisy Reed, a deaconess at the church, who brought three friends from her fitness class along, especially to see him.

"He's not showing any fear at all. He's just getting up there and doing what he has to do, being led by the Holy Spirit."

Ezekiel's mother and stepfather are both pastors, and two years ago set up their own church with white-painted brick walls, red curtains, flowers, and a sound-system so loud you can feel it pulse inside your chest.

And it was there, in the Fullness of Time Church in Capitol Heights, Maryland, that earlier this year, Ezekiel was ordained as a minister, and his brother, Hezekiah, a deacon.

"It was wonderful," says 13-year-old Hezekiah. "Everybody was applauding us, and when we got presented to the crowd, the whole crowd stood up and started rattling and clapping."

"I started a sermon at home, and I typed it, and I think it's going to be good," he says in a little voice, adding that he will wait until he is 10 or 11 to deliver it.

The US is by no means the only country with child preachers - there is a thriving market for them in Brazil, for example, and Indonesia even has a controversial TV where young Islamic preachers compete.

The phenomenon is most likely to crop up among denominations which emphasise the power of the Holy Spirit and encourage lay participation, says Edith Blumhofer, an expert on the history of Christianity, based at Wheaten College in Illinois.

It is also likely to arise, she says, among sections of the population otherwise regarded as at the margins of society.

The 1920s and 1930s were the heyday for child preachers - historically-speaking we are "in a bit of a lull" right now, says Ted Lavigne, a retired minister, who is writing a book on the subject.

-BBC