Waiting

“I thought that continence arose from one’s own powers, which I did not recognize in myself. I was foolish enough not to know…that no one can be continent unless you [O Lord] grant it. For you would surely have granted it if my inner groaning had reached your ears and I with firm faith had cast my cares on you.” 

St. Augustine, Confessions

The 2nd lesson appointed for today is a reading from the book of HebrewsHebrews is a different sort of book than the rest of the Biblical canon. For one, it’s not a book but a sermon put in letter format. Placed in letter form, the ancient Christians would circulate the speech from church to church much like the pastoral letters of St. Paul. Sermons and letters that passed from community to community kept everyone on the same theological page, more or less. Two, it’s the only book in the Christian scriptures with a sustaining argument. From beginning to end, the author is concerned with the nature of Christ: What/Who was Christ like on earth? What is Christ like now? Put another way, “Who, exactly, was and is this God-man?” If you’ve never read The Letter to the Hebrews in one sitting, I encourage you to do so. You may find the author’s argument convincing. You may find it troubling in parts. Like a good sermon, it has all of this and more. This morning I want to take for our meditation Hebrews 9:28, which reads, 

“[Christ] will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him.”

~Letter to the Hebrews

One image the Letter to the Hebrews elicits dates back to Temple Judaism, specifically on the high holy day of Yom Kippur, or the Day of Atonement. On this day, the high priest of the Temple, and only the high priest, would go into the part of the Temple designated as the Holy of Holies and make sacrifice for his own sins and for the sins of the people. Yom Kippur was and still is honored and celebrated by our Jewish siblings. Whereas the ancient Jews had the Temple to make sacrifices, today, contemporary Jews make sacrifices through prayer, repentance, fasting, and alms-giving, to name a few. The writer of Hebrews takes the imagery of the great high priest, which any ancient Jew could imagine, and puts Jesus in that role. We might imagine Jesus as the high priest offering the sacrifice for the world’s sins, and within the Christian faith, even offering up himself as that sacrifice. Jesus, we could claim, is both the sacrifice and the sacrifice-er. Mixing metaphors, when we look upon a crucifix, Jesus remains the great high priest who offered himself up as the ultimate sacrifice dealing with sin on the cross.

Thinking on Yom Kippur again, those who gathered at the Temple would see the high priest enter the holy of holies. While he was in the Temple, they would readily wait. When he finally returned after making sacrifices, there was a grand celebration. God, working through the high priest, absolved the people. Alleluias were appropriate. There was a spirit of gratefulness. God’s people stand redeemed another year. Christians believe that Christ will come again, and those who wait are part of Christ’s Body, the Church. So, we might ask, “It’s been 2,000 years. How does the Church continue to wait? Or personally, how do you wait?

“It has often been noted that those immersed in today’s culture find it difficult to wait. We also recognize that appeals for patience have too often been used in the past to protect the status quo. Contemporary psychologists and theologians are reaffirming what the spiritual tradition has known all along: that “passive purifications,” experiences of impasse and frustration, and apparently fallow periods in our intellectual, emotional, social, and spiritual lives are often the seedbed for insights and breakthroughs that can only be received, not achieved.”

~Steven Payne, O.C.D.

Over the past two years, we have all experienced impasse and frustration on an individual, collective, and social plane. I know I have had one long fallow period intellectually, emotionally, socially, and spiritually for far too long. When I am reminded that those fallow periods in my life hold potential for insight and breakthroughs, it gets me excited. I’m happy to wait for these. Also, to acknowledge that there’s absolutely nothing I can do to achieve such great heights, but instead must receive them is undoubtedly a gift from God. It’s like a nurse saying, “the results are negative,” or a doctor acknowledging cancer in remission.” It’s a child screaming, “It’s Christmas morning,” or an alcoholic accepting sobriety. It’s the great high priest coming out of the Temple. It’s Christ died; Christ risen, and practicing how you and I wait for him to “come again.”

After the Romans destroyed the Temple in 70 A.D., Temple Judaism was lost. We might claim that this was a fallow period for our Jewish siblings. It was a period of waiting and watching. Whereas watching and waiting required the external function of sight, innovative rabbis challenged their flocks to look with the mind’s eye interiorly. Purification, they claimed, could now be done within the heart. They looked to the writings of the prophet Jeremiah who experienced the fall of the first Temple for inspiration, and to God, who would provide faith and hope – virtuous requirements for a new waiting period. Synagogues would increase, and Jews felt free to travel, live, and settle outside Israel. They learned new ways in which to wait.

The writer of Hebrews gives Christians a few ideas on how to wait on Christ. Starting in verse 24 of chapter 10 we hear, “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Here, “Day” refers to Christ coming again just as we await the sunrise each morning. Put simply, we are to love. Our deeds are to be virtuous and following God’s will. We are to meet together for prayer, worship, and accountability, encouraging one another while waiting. The writer goes on to speak about inviting love in all aspects of life. Bring the love of Christ into your life wherever you go. Invite God into your work, your family, and even into those places that are far-reaching for you. Put forth the effort while you wait. “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have,” he commands in chapter 13.

So I ask again, How do you wait? How do you spend your time? Do you believe that God can turn fallow periods into breakthroughs? What is God up to in your neighborhood, community, and into the far reaches of your heart? This week, I encourage you to notice how you wait. Don’t denounce boredom. It may lead to insight. Denounce busy-ness. Catch yourself when you’re not doing something with intentionality. Affirm silence. Pray. Take deep, cleansing breaths.

Wait on God

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I Can’t Make My Family More Spiritual

For several years I’ve been vexed with the question, “How do I add more of a spiritual element into the day-to-day life of my family?” I’ve tried to implement holy habits. I do this myself. Why can’t I whip all of us into shape? I’ve bought family devotional books for inspiration. When I homeschooled our oldest, we prayed “Daily Devotions for Individuals and Families,” out of The Book of Common Prayer before each morning lesson. We’ve prayed around the dinner table with fits and starts. Our night time routine may be the most consistent. All of these disciplines begin well enough, but they don’t last more than a day or two until I find the where-with-all to try it again. At night, I keep myself awake thinking unhelpful thoughts, I’m not doing a very good job of showing my kids how to pray or have a meaningful relationship with God. These thoughts manifest into extreme (spiritual) daddy guilt.

I’ve decided, or rather my kids have decided, (or better, God has decided) that enough is enough. I’ve been approaching the spiritual life of my family all wrong, and asking the wrong questions. My kids have shown me that I can’t add more to what’s eternal, and what’s eternal is the spiritual. The everyday is the lesson (if we can even call it a lesson). Perhaps recognizing the spiritual in the everyday is simply a lifestyle. It’s not my role to add anything. Instead, it’s my job to gracefully respond to life with intentionality, compassion, and love by myself, in my work, and in front of my kids.

Habits are built into the everyday, making them holy is finding gratitude within them. Last week, I wrote about our youngest son discovering and rediscovering the moon. That was a holy moment. After church on Sunday, our oldest shared the Bible story told in his Godly Play classroom. That was a holy moment. When we gathered around the table for Sunday lunch we each shared what we were grateful for, and our youngest said, “church.” Then our oldest shared what and how he prays each night. All I did was participate in my children’s God stories. They naturally recognized the Divine, and I simply gave them space in order for them to continue this life-long relationship.

A long time ago, Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me.” He said this after the adults blocked their pathway to him. He then shared that it is the adults’ responsibility to get out of the children’s way because it is children who are naturally curious, and curiosity is a gift from God. Do not hinder them when they want to meet the gift-giver, he could have said. And that’s it. Children intuitively understand that life is a gift. Each day is a miracle in the making. From now on my prayer is to rediscover God in the everyday. It’s a prayer my kids taught me, not by doing anything extra, but by being.

Thank you, God, for the gift of children. Help me to love them more by releasing them to you one miracle at a time. Amen.

Holy Interruptions

Most people don’t like to be interrupted. I’m no exception, especially when I’m in the middle of speaking. Where I don’t mind it so much is when I’m busy with a project at work or at home. There’s a person I used to work with who like Cosmo Kramer would burst into Jerry Seinfeld’s apartment unannounced. I would be busy at my desk, lost in thought, writing, or making a phone call and in would come Kramer pontificating his story mid sentence like a steam of consciousness rapper. Because I shared an office, and knew that Kramer’s actions annoyed everyone but me, I let him have the spotlight, engaging him with clarifying questions or comments to the chagrin of everyone’s occupied selves.

Recently, I’ve noticed my son has a bit of Kramer within him. I’ll be reading a book or relaxing at the end of the day, and in he’ll come, iPad in hand to show me his latest Minecraft creations. Honestly, his obsession with Minecraft used to bother me. I’ve come to accept it as of late, and marvel in his creativity. His artistry and expressiveness have come a long way. Both of us have grown.

I work as a hospital chaplain. My job description should read, Comfortable interrupting patients, staff and guests of the hospital. I interrupt nurses when they’re charting a patient’s record. I interrupt doctors when they’re on rounds. I interrupt patient’s when they’re Facetiming a loved one. Perhaps I could simplify my job description to say that chaplains are holy interrupters. Brian Doyle describes us this way,

[Chaplains] are the ones who knock gently on the doors of patients who are dazed and afraid and in pain, and stick their heads in and ask gently if they can be of service, and many times endure the lash of rude and vulgar response, and have to accept that as the price of doing business; and they are the ones who sometimes walk softly into the room and lay hands on hands or heads and whisper prayers and ask for blessings and healing and restored strength if at all possible, and those are hard things to ask for when the being in the bed is so patiently broken and bruised and frightened and helpless no matter how hard you pray or how huge your empathetic heart; and [chaplains] are the ones who then knock on the next door and the next, day after day week after week, sometimes for many years…”

~A Book of Uncommon Prayer

I’ve been both interrupted and an interrupter. Like Kramer, God has burst into my life, gifts in hand with a story to tell. Like my son, the Divine keeps showing me [their] creative mind in the people I meet and the thin places I navigate. This week begins Spiritual Health Week. If you know or have known a chaplain or pastoral counselor whose made a difference in your, or a loved ones’ life, take time to say ‘thank you,’ or keep them in your prayers. You’ll never know when they may be by to knock on your door and give you a holy interruption.

I See the Moon

This morning, me and my two-year-old son walked his ten-year-old brother to school. Because the days are getting shorter, and thus the nights, longer, the dawn seemed to hover around us like a breath. After escorting his brother safely through the crosswalk we said our goodbyes and turned around to discover the moon still brilliantly lit. I pointed up, “Look at the moon.” It took a moment for him to find it, and once he did he repeated my words, “Look at the moon.” As we walked back home the moon was caught behind a copse. “Where’s the moon,” he worried? I comforted him. “It’s still there.” We played this eye-spy question and answer game all the way back home. “Where’s the moon,” was always answered with, “It’s still there.”

After dropping off my little one at preschool, I returned home and read a commentary by St. John of Karpathos. He wrote, “The moon as it waxes and wanes illustrates the condition of man: sometimes he does what is right, sometimes he sins and then through repentance returns to a holy life.” After reading his words, I remembered the moon and how it was always there yet blocked by those trees for a time.

Thank you, God, for always being there even when I can’t see you.

Renew A Right Spirit Within Me

The writer of Psalm 51 had been around the block a time or two. They recognized their mistakes and how to ask for mercy. They knew that a renewal of spirit was possible no matter what. “Give me just one more last chance,” they seemed to say. 

I remember the first time I made a formal confession to a priest. I was nervous, and slightly humiliated because the priest hearing my confession was no stranger. She was my parish priest. We prayed and ate together. We sang and walked together. We had a spiritual friendship and mutual respect for one another. I remember writing down my confession because I didn’t want to forget anything. I remember confessing in a side chapel with votive candles and stained glass. I remember where the priest sat, and I kneeled. As I recalled my sins, the priest listened. She could tell I was nervous. Maybe she was nervous too? After the formal confession, she stood up, formally absolved me, then put both hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said,

“Brandon, you’re going to make a great priest. Now go to the altar and pray Psalm 51, then be on your way.”

I remember feeling lightheaded and free. I remembered joy and tranquility. I felt loved. My spiritual friend, who happened to be my priest, acknowledged that I had been around the block a time or two. She admitted that I had messed up but that God’s mercy is always sufficient. She reminded me (and my own body responded with lightness) that renewal of spirit is always possible. Finally, the Divine gave me one more last chance as God is always eager to forgive and not condemn. I’ll never forget that first confession and the grace given to me by God through my parish priest.

As you finish out the week remember mercy, compassion, and forgiveness as expressed in Psalm 51 or your own spiritual friend. Preach God’s grace this week by touching that friend’s shoulder, looking them in the eyes renewing a right spirit within them as well as your soul.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus

A note about my blog. For the past 7 years I served alongside St. Julian’s Episcopal Church as their priest, a wonderful parish that “raised me” as a brand new priest. Because of my role at St. Julian’s, many of my blog postings were sermons, or redacted sermons, from a particular theological viewpoint – mainly, that of a pastor and shepherd of a Christian congregation. In the Spring of this year my role changed, and I now serve as a hospital chaplain to two hospital systems in the Atlanta area. Therefore, my blog postings may take on a different tone and feel in the months and years to come. I appreciate the many readers of my blog while serving as a parish priest, and invite you to continue with me in this current ministry as I reflect anew in a clinical setting. If for any reason you do not wish to continue this leg of the journey with me and my personal blog, please feel free to ‘unsubscribe,’ and thank you for walking with me through our shared pilgrimage. Godspeed, and now onto today’s posting.

~Fr. Brandon

Today is the feast of The Sacred Heart of Jesus. It’s a day mainly celebrated by Roman Catholic Christians; however, it holds a new place of adoration for me. Last summer I had a mystical experience (you can read about it here) where I had a vision of Jesus on his cross, and a clear image of his sacred, beating heart. Traditionally, this feast day invites all Christians to look, find, and recognize God’s love in the world. Who or what, we may ask, reminds us of God’s love? Lift that person up now. If you find yourself journeying into your memory, offer that God-moment-memory as prayer. My prayer for you all is that you experience God’s love today, now, and in this heartfelt moment.

Pentecost Sunday

Today is the Day of Pentecost. On this holy day, we are reminded of God’s promise never to leave us nor forsake us. God chose to walk among us through the person of Jesus Christ, and God still chooses to walk alongside everyone through God’s Holy Spirit, formally represented in His one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church. Put simply, God shows up in His church, and God shows up in us through our relationships found in one another and in His world. Celebrate the feast of Pentecost at church, in your homes, and in every relationship you discover in God’s creation. 

Resurrection – The Way of Love

Easter not only represents the transformative event of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It reveals a profound reality in which humanity lives, moves, and has its being. Through Christ, the resurrection act exposed God’s unconditional love for all. This love came as a complementing commitment that nothing, not even death, will be able to separate us from the love of God. At Easter, stand challenged to live into this new reality. Allow God to transcend and translate your life into the love disclosed in and by and through Christ. Resurrection is real, radical, and life-changing. Allow its power to rouse your senses and rejuvenate your commitment to the way of Love.

Contemplating the Cross

Luke 2:22-40 shares the story of The Presentation. In it, we discover the holy family on a pilgrimage to the ancient temple in Jerusalem fulfilling their requirement “as it is written in the law of the Lord” (v 23). That is, to offer their firstborn to the Lord through the sacrificing of a small bird. The Presentation not only marks the time when the young Jesus was presented to God in the temple, it formally marked the Son of God taking on our nature and giving itself back to God the Father. This theodrama played out when Sts. Simeon and Anna announced that the glorious return of Yahweh to his holy temple had happened right before their eyes – For these eyes of mine have seen your salvation (v 30). In the Gospel appointed for this coming Sunday, the young Jesus has now come of age. Entering into the temple court again, he now passes judgment on it and declares that his very body had become the new temple. A few days later, this new temple would give his final sacrifice on the cross, offering himself yet again to the Father for the redemption of the world.

Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter?

~The Rev Brandon Duke

We’re at the point in this season of Lent where the image of Christ’s cross begins to take shape. If Epiphany is the season to reflect on what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, Lent is the time to come alongside Jesus with his cross. Remembering is challenging. Even his closest followers could not comprehend the cross. St. Peter could not fathom the Messiah undergoing suffering and death (Lent II). Sunday (Lent III), we learn that it was only after “he was raised from the dead” that his disciples “believed” (Jn 2:22). Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter? We know the story, and like the disciples, we remember what is written (v 17). Like Peter, we often deny that we will one day die and even ignore the truth that our closest friends and family will do the same. Forgetting we are dust and to dust we will return is prevalent in our culture, even as we have experienced significant death this year due to the ongoing pandemic (Gen 3:19). Contemplating death alone leaves one with a sense of hopelessness. Set this despair up and against the cross of Christ, and death has no sting (1 Cor 15:55). Again, we know the story. God raised him from the dead. We preach Christ crucified (1 Cor 1:23).

There are four more Sundays left in Lent. Use this time to not only remember your death but to contemplate the cross.

**The above reflection was originally posted on Modern Metanoia where The Rev. Brandon Duke writes as a guest blogger.**

Competency + 1

I homeschool our eldest son. The curriculum we use for writing has a pedagogical practice that I’ve grown to admire, not only in teaching the subject of writing but for teaching in general. It’s called the “Competency + 1” model. Here’s how it works: When teaching grammar, for example, a concept is introduced one at a time. The concept is then modeled extensively by the teacher, and when opportunities arise to give examples of the concept, the teacher takes advantage of those opportunities. So if I wanted to teach on nouns, I would introduce a simple definition for a noun. Modeling the concept of a noun is easy. After he writes, for example, we could go back and edit his draft together finding all of the nouns together. While in simple conversation, I could stop him and ask him to tell me what the nouns were in the last sentence he said. Since a noun is a person, place, thing, or idea, I could place tangible things in front of him like a picture or a phone to further the exercise. (You get the point). After these methods of introducing and reinforcing the concept of a noun, he may eventually point out a noun before I do; perhaps in need of recognition or praise. Once we’re to the point of competency, I’m then able to add my “plus 1” – perhaps it’s an adjective that modifies nouns, or a pronoun that replaces a noun, and so on. Here’s where this pedagogical model shines: Once the student has become competent at applying a concept, and even as the teacher introduces new ones, the teacher will still require that the student use the original concept or technique taught within every assignment. For example, suppose I assign a two-paragraph paper, and the original assignment was to underline at least one noun in each sentence. Because adjectives were introduced as his “plus 1”, he underlines a few of the adjectives until he grows comfortable and confident in doing this without additional help. Even if ten concepts have been introduced after the first lesson on nouns, he still has to underline a noun in each sentence. Competency + 1.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus acts as a master teacher to his disciples, the crowd, and most especially to Peter. Jesus has extensively modeled what the way of love looks like. It’s a way that leads to healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy (to name a few). Not only are these concepts captured in parables and stories told by Jesus, but they are also tangibly expressed in seeing, tasting, hearing, touching, and even smelling the kingdom of God. In this kingdom, the sovereign reigns called the Messiah. Peter, acting as the student, has the correct answer for who the Messiah is, and it’s none other than his teacher and friend. It’s Jesus. Peter is competent in naming the Messiah; however, Peter was incompetent with the consequences of what that meant. Jesus then introduced his very own Competency + 1. It’s a hard lesson because it required everything that Peter had learned up to that point, and yet, it needed an even deeper unknowing of everything he thought he knew about what the Messiah was and what Jesus ultimately had to do. The plus 1 Jesus introduced was the cross. The cross was the Messiah’s final destination. As if that lesson didn’t confuse Peter enough, Jesus then foreshadowed his own death and resurrection. His resurrection was only possible by way of the cross. Participating in Jesus’ resurrection, the lesson continued, meant Peter taking up his cross to follow Jesus. This plus one teaching was so complicated Peter could not master it. No wonder Peter initially rebuked his teaching. Why does taking up one’s cross lead to suffering and death?


Above, I said that Jesus’ way of love leads to healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy. How can these virtues be accomplished if suffering and death are involved? It’s with questions like this where we all must travel beyond the concept of Jesus as a great teacher. We now enter into the dimension of faith, which is every Christian’s plus 1. Jesus is not a great teacher among many. Jesus is not a great prophet among many. We claim these truths alongside Peter. The truth that Peter could not comprehend that day was that Jesus was none other than God in the flesh, and the cross he would take up to his death ultimately revealed the great paradox that sacrificing the self in love is God’s way of showing the glory of life in his kingdom. This selfless act transcended teaching, going beyond it into the realm of truth, and is why Peter could never master it. It is why Peter would later find and discover healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy to be gifts of God hewed from the cross.

The truth that Peter could not comprehend that day was that Jesus was none other than God in the flesh, and the cross he would take up to his death ultimately revealed the great paradox that sacrificing the self in love is God’s way of showing the glory of life in his kingdom.

~The Rev. brandon duke


Today is the 2nd Sunday in Lent in the year of Our Lord 2021. It was the 2nd Sunday in Lent – 2020 that we last gathered together at St. Julian’s parish. It’s been one whole year since we’ve worshiped together in our spiritual home. As I think back on this year, there were many times that I didn’t get the message and missed the teaching. In my pride, I resented the suffering that I had to go through. I didn’t want to bear the burden of quarantine and mask-wearing. I wanted to travel freely, to see my family, and be with my church family. In these moments, I intellectually knew that social distancing was necessary for the benefit of all, but in my moodiness, it was all so inconvenient. It wasn’t until very recently that my heart remembered that the way of Jesus is sacrificing the self in love. Like Peter, this became my plus one teaching.

2nd Sunday in Lent – 2020


Once known, I started seeing it everywhere. Self-sacrificing love is when a mother cares for her children even when she’s bone tired. Self-sacrificing love is when a meal you could have had ended up on a neighbor’s table because they need it more than you. Self-sacrificing love is donating time to a cause or even an organ to one who needs it most. Self-sacrificing love gives bread instead of a stone or fish instead of a snake. Once I started finding this type of love, I equated it with Jesus. Like a mother, Jesus cares for us in self-sacrificing love. He shows himself to us in family meals, beside hospital beds, and as a shoulder to cry on. In my suffering comes a love beyond myself that suffers with me. It is this self-sacrificing love that was paradoxically born on the cross of Christ. It is still a profound mystery, and we are all privileged when its power gifts us. So as we begin another year apart, turn your eyes upon Jesus and your feet towards the cross. The cross is the Christian’s plus one and the lens through which to experience this world. Know that you are not alone for Jesus goes before you to show you the way.