Articles/Interviews

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY LEADING GRACE MAGAZINE

I still laugh when I recall Larry Crabb’s description of the worst sermon he ever heard. He said it was "delivered by a middle-aged man who made me think of a strutting peacock when he spoke." I can’t get that picture out of my head. It’s hilarious and cringey at the same time. Unfortunately, you don’t have to look far to discover that the American church is filled with strutting peacocks. And in full disclosure, I may have strutted a time or two during my preaching adolescence.

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY FRONT PORCH REPUBLIC

I’m getting older. And so are you. And I have a theory: The older I get; the faster time goes. Call it a hunch or a sneaking suspicion. I’m not suggesting it’s related to the theory of relativity or grounded in a study from Harvard Medical School. Instead, I’ll attempt a less sophisticated explanation of the speed of life. Here’s how I picture it: When the ball reaches the top of the roof and begins rolling down the other side, it picks up speed. Like that ball, life goes faster and faster. Time flies.

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY LEADING GRACE MAGAZINE

My departure as the Sr. Pastor was bigger than tending to the details of an exit strategy. I knew I had some other work to do—work inside my own soul. At one point, I called it ministry detox—the gradual rebuilding of my inner life that may have been sacrificed on the altar of church progress.

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY MOCKINGBIRD

I recently stepped away from my role as the Senior Pastor, a retirement of sorts. For over 35 years, I worked in the trenches of ministry. I watched God do the amazing. I saw people at their best. I also saw them at their worst. Like all pastors, I experienced the joys and heartaches of “the people business.”

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY MOCKINGBIRD

When you’re a kid, you dream about what life will be like when you’re a grown-up. And your dreams can be untethered from reality. You have freedom from responsibility so you can dream the unbelievable. Kids rule.

BY JOE DUKE | PUBLISHED BY MOCKINGBIRD

I knew Flannery O’Connor. She lived in Milledgeville, Georgia and so did I. She was friends with my parents and by proxy, friends with me — as much as a young child can be friends with an adult. Those who knew her in our small town knew her as Flannery.