Day1 Weekly Radio Broadcast - Day1 Feeds

  I didn't need a crow to tell me Dad was going to die. He had been in the sunroom in his hospice bed for two days, and he would be gone within an hour. The family had gathered and we were prepared. We knew Dad was dying. Still, the poetry of the moment was not lost on me. The crow was perched in a familiar poplar right at eye level and only a few yards away, just outside of Dad's bedroom window. I had walked into the room to get something for Mom, looked up, and there it was. It was dusk, and the low-angled light reflected off the crow's highly-organized rows of wing feathers. The long black beak was held slightly open, as if the bird were about to speak. The eyes were intelligent and hard. Before it set itself in motion, the creature looked as if it had been machined out of impossibly fine black-purple metal. After a moment, it spread its long black wings and rowed away in silence. An anonymous sixth-century Syrian monk we have come to call Dionysius once described God as a "brilliant darkness." This is an apt description of that crow--a brilliant darkness--and it made me wonder: does God, who we claim called light from the void, shine in dark things? Did God take the form of the darkest of birds, a living shadow, just to pay me a visit and remind me that such a thing is possible? Is this how God shows up? Today's reading finds old Job on the ash heap. He has lost everything. His children, his wealth, his health, his home, and his high social position have been taken from him in a very short time. He sits and weeps in an empty world, crying out for justice, for God to make all things right, for God to please explain how and why this happened. But mostly he cries out for God's presence.

  "From ghoulies and ghosties. And long-leggedy beasties. And things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!" It's the eve of All Hallow's Eve--Halloween and a time to remember the words to this old Scottish prayer to protect us from the dark spirits who wish us ill. But Halloween also means that we are on the eve of one of the great feasts days of the Christian calendar--All Saint's Day and remember all the spirits of light and life. This is one of my favorite celebrations of the whole Christian calendar--a day when we remember all the saints of God, not just the really well know saints like St. Francis but all the lesser saints like you and me. It is also a day to remember all the saints in our lives who now see God face to face. St. Paul, in writing to the people in Ephesus prayed "that they might know what is the hope to which Jesus has called them, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints." Today we get we get to peek behind the darkened veil and see that "glorious inheritance" realized. The list of the departed just from my own church household is long; there have been many, many loved ones lost this past year. But are they lost, if they now play in the presence of God? Haven't they been found and known in all the glory and love that our God always meant for them to have. And they certainly aren't forgotten. They are remembered by you and known by God and today they are remembered by all of us.

  In the fall of 2000, I began my studies at Duke University as an intended political science major with my sights set on a future in elected office. I only lasted one semester with this intended concentration and vocation. One of the primary reasons was the first course I took in the political science department. The course was titled, "Political Systems in Contemporary America" and it had a deeply negative impact on me. It was not the brilliant professor, nor the challenging reading list, nor the fascinating subject matter. It was one particular lecture on the growing use and impact of negative campaign advertising that did me in. We often complain about such pieces from both ends of the political spectrum, describing them as "attack ads" and "mudslinging." They disappoint us and erode our trust in the political system. And, perhaps most disturbingly, they are successful. These attack ads get results. I remember our professor explaining that the reason for the increasing prevalence of such campaign ads was their consistent record of effectiveness. "It turns out," he said with a smile, "that in politics you really can lift yourself up by tearing others down. I have the research to prove it." Lifting yourself up by tearing others down. It is a playground ethic that is also played out in almost every realm of our society, even in communities of faith. It is a shameful human instinct that has been with us for a very long time, and invades every part of our lives. Jesus must have known this, because in the eighteenth chapter of Luke's gospel, he tells a parable that is as current as the latest political attack ad or hateful Facebook post, a parable that captures the heart of this tragic human instinct, a parable about two approaches to prayer.

  I have personally struggled with this particular parable about an unjust judge. Every third year as this lectionary text rolls around I immediately feel inspired to look for another. It is, on the surface, a rather bothersome and strange story that challenges us to search not only for a possible meaning and application, but also for any sense of the presence of God. We much prefer cleaner and simpler parables from Jesus, stories that easily fit into our ways of thinking and acting. The passage itself moves in what seems to be disconnected ways. The context, Luke suggests, is about prayer and the importance of not giving up. The parable that follows revolves around a not-so-nice person and his indifference toward one who lived on the margins, barely getting by. The passage then ends with a question about faith. From prayer and callousness, to persistence and faithfulness. While it may seem disjointed on first reading, there is something significant here about who we are and how we are to order our lives in this complex and confusing world. The two main characters in this parable are drawn from the real world. Luke's Gospel is filled with stories like this where the surprise of grace is discovered not in holy, pious, religious, people but in seeing reality through the lens of God's Kingdom. These two people open that door. The judge in this story is not presented in any kind of favorable light. Whether a fictional character or a composite personality, this particular judge does not fulfill the role and responsibility assigned to him. Rather than being an advocate for others, like this widow, this judge at first ignores her, seems to act against her. As I try to flesh out who this judge is and how he behaves a string of words comes to mind: impious, contemptible, self-reliant, power-broker, corrupt. Instead of hearing her complaints in a fair and impartial way, this judge clearly has no time nor interest in the request of this widow.

  The account is short and it brings us a reminder of life in the pre-scientific world.  "As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him.  Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, 'Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!'"  For centuries there were people who were afflicted with all sorts of diseases and conditions that today, with gratitude to the scientific and medical community, no one ever need fear again.  The drama that unfolds today is confirmation of the strength of fear.  Here are ten souls, walking at a distance away from the main road as they were bound to do by law because of their condition.  These were people who were born with real hopes and dreams-they once walked with purpose and meaning with their peers, and now-due to the accident of being in some place or other where they contracted this disease, their lives were as good as over.  Leprosy was the most feared disease, as it removed one from living one's life in community, while it tore at the body, causing infection and mutilation.  These were people, real people whose health and hopes made them beg on the fringes.  No cure awaited them, and fear of contagion preceded them on their death-march around civilization. Jewish law was very precise-lepers could not come within a proscribed distance of someone who was "clean."  Well into the Middle Ages, people with leprosy even had to wear special clothing, shake bells or shout the word, "unclean" ahead of them as they walked a distance away from the main road so that they would not come into contact with the un-afflicted. 

  Wars and rumors of wars proliferate around the world.  Nations, tribes, gangs, ideologues kill each other for the love of money, for the love of power, for the love of revenge, for the love of violence, for the love of God (God help us).  The way to make any drop of difference at all seems not only unclear but impossible.  But our God says to us, "blessed are the peacemakers."  (Mt 5:9)  "Lord, increase our faith!" Refugees and immigrants, displaced by terrorism and poverty, wander the earth and seas looking for safety, an open door, a compassionate welcome.  The sheer numbers and depth of suffering and need are overwhelming; the opposition to making space for them is like an insurmountable wall.  And our God says, "I was a stranger and you welcomed me." (Mt 25:35)  "Lord, increase our faith!" Drug and alcohol abuse withers bodies and breaks relationships leading to despair, destitution, and sometimes terrible violence.  The cycles of abuse seem to hold people captive with greater power than any treatment we can devise.  But our God says to us, "I give you power and authority over all demons, to cure diseases, to proclaim the Kingdom of God, and to heal." (Lk 9:1-2) "Lord, increase our faith!" The depth and breadth of poverty and hunger not only in faraway places but right here in the United States is a shock and disgrace.  And we wonder, "where will we get enough food to feed all these people?"  And God says, "bring your five loaves and two fish and feed the people." "Lord, increase our faith!"

  I remember the time I tried to introduce my daughter Lily, then two years old, to one of my favorite children's books, "There is a Monster at the End of this Book" starring lovable, furry, old Grover. To begin with, Lily was excited about Grover--even if she thought he was Elmo--and allowed me to read her the book. About halfway through the book, though, she grabbed it out of my hands and slammed it shut. "That's a scary monster," she told me. "I don't want it." As disappointed as I was, I said, "Ok, we don't have to read it," and I put the book back on the shelf.  The next day I found the scary monster book in the refrigerator freezer--at Lily level. Lily was just a child and she could still get away with putting the scary story in the freezer. In fact, it was kind of cute, and it won't be long before she, like the rest of us, has to look far too many scary stories right in the eyes. The titles range from "Goodbye My Love" to "Why Me?" The characters are named illness, tragedy, poverty, and hopelessness. I thank God every day that Lily doesn't have to meet these characters just yet...Grover was too much for her. My guess is that you don't have to look far to read your scary story. My guess is that your scary story can't be hidden in the freezer; but if you can't think of one, perhaps you might take in your hands the scary story of today's text. Once there was a man named Lazarus. Your scary story might not have anything in common with that Lazarus. Lazarus lived outside of a gate. This is scary enough, but Lazarus didn't just live outside the gate--he lay outside the gate, Actually, the text says, literally, he was thrown outside the gate. The Greek verb used here is built from the verb meaning "to throw"; this is important to note because, while it is a common verb, it is only used a handful of times in the New Testament in reference to a human being.

  I can do all things through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13) If you are like me, you enjoyed watching the Olympics a few weeks ago. The things those athletes can do amaze me. They seem to have super human powers. I was a pretty good athlete when I was younger, but I could only dream of being an Olympian. Maybe I should have recited Philippians 4:13 more. Perhaps I would have made it. Our verse for today is connected to sports quite a bit. People use it to inspire them to reach their goals or win their games. That's fair enough, but there is a depth of meaning in this verse that goes deeper than crossing the finish line and winning a gold medal. Seen in its larger context, this verse is more powerful than we think. I believe all of us want this verse to be true. I think all of us want strength for living. I know many of you are worn out, burned out, and about to pass out! Maybe you are listening today feeling exhausted by life. Maybe you have a tough decision to make and you don't know if you have the strength to make it. Perhaps you have too many things on your plate and need an escape button. You want off this train! The pressures of work, family and business and life have you at your wits end. If that is how you feel, it seems that today's verse is just what the doctor ordered. But notice the verse expresses that Paul had found strength in Christ. Paul doesn't say, "You will find your strength in Christ to do all things." Instead, he was testifying that he had found all the strength he needed in Christ. The question is how can we find it?

  For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.  John 3:16 Martin Luther called this verse, "The gospel in miniature." In just 27 words it sums up the gospel. It has become the "mantra" of our faith. But this verse has a problem. It suffers from overexposure. It has been quoted so often that many of us no longer feel its power. Perhaps for some this verse is connected to bad evangelism. Maybe some obnoxious fire-breathing preacher quoted it trying to cajole you into becoming a Christian. Ever since then John 3:16 means "Turn or burn!" Or what about the well-meaning but tacky guy on TV holding up a sign of John 3:16 behind a professional golfer? And, of course, how can we ever forget seeing John 3:16 written below the eyes of football stars as they run out on the field. Again, this verse suffers from over exposure. Its impact and meaning have diminished for many people. I want us to experience the power of John 3:16 again--to push aside all the baggage and experience it anew. I believe if you allow yourself to experience the truth of this verse today it can set you free. Whether you are a Christian seeking renewal or a skeptic seeking more in life, the truth of today's verse can you set you free from whatever is holding you back. It can give you the peace you are craving.  

  About five years ago, I visited for the first time the home of a family that would come to mean a great deal to my life and ministry. On this visit, as often happens on first visits, the family wanted to give me a tour of their home. The patriarch of the family, I will call him Steve, walked the shiny hardwood floors of the downstairs showing me the living room and dining room and kitchen. Then we climbed the carpeted stairs to the second floor. He showed me the bedrooms and told me that if I ever needed a place to rest, I was more than welcome to stay with his family. As we were making our way back downstairs, we stopped at a small door in the middle of the upstairs hallway. When we had passed it earlier, I had assumed that it was a crawl space, probably a place to store files or Christmas decorations. The door was no more than three feet tall by three feet wide, and when Steve opened it, I was shocked. Inside this little room was what appeared to be a truck load of non-perishable food items. There were bags of rice and cans of vegetables that were categorized by expiration date. It was really amazing. I turned to Steve a little confused and said, "No offense, but this is a weird place to have a pantry." He let out a chuckle and said, "This isn't our pantry, David. This is our prep room." It turns out that Steve was a "prepper." Now, I was thirty years old at the time of my visit to Steve's home; and to that point, I had never heard the term "prepper." It was so interesting to me, and if you've been paying attention to American culture over the last several years, you've probably heard the term prepper. It actually has a much longer history than that, but that's a story for another day. Prepper refers to a person or group of people who are taking steps to prepare in case a disaster happens in the world, whether natural or financial or political.

  I wonder how many of you sat down to a meal this week--had dinner with a close friend or a family member. Like a real dinner--not in front of the television. I wonder how many of you had three meals or more this week with a close friend or a family member where a smart phone was not present at the table. I ask, because having dinner as a family used to be a common occurrence, and that has changed in our fast paced, grab and go culture. There are some of you today who will remember growing up and having dinner as a family every night of the week. You may remember that dinner could not be served until everyone was at the table--and the phone hung on a wall, and if it rang during dinner--you ignored it--you did not answer it. Things have changed now; it's so uncommon to sit down to a meal as a family that researchers have done studies on the benefits of the practice--trying to beckon us back to a common table to share our lives every day! It's hard to find the time to sit down as a family with our busy schedules, meetings, soccer practices, guitar lessons, tutoring sessions, to name just a few. So what do these words from Jesus say to us in a culture when finding time around table seems fleeting--almost foreign? Author and pastor Tony Campolo tells a story of an experience at dinner in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, some years ago. "He was checking on mission programs that his organization carries out day in and day out in Haiti. He wanted to see how the workers were surviving emotionally and spiritually. At the end of a long day, he was tired and "peopled out," so it was with great relief that he sat down to eat a good dinner at a French restaurant in the heart of Port-au-Prince. He was seated next to the window so he could enjoy watching the activity on the street outside.

  When I was growing up, Sundays meant church, family, and food. My extended family would gather at our congregation for worship, armed with giant Tootsie Rolls to keep us kids quiet during the sermon. Afterwards, we would head over to my grandmother's house for a quick snack of cream-filled coffee cake. Later we all drove over to the cemetery, where we would tidy up the graves of our relatives: planting, watering, weeding, and sweeping dirt off the headstones. Tired and hungry, we would return to my grandmother's house, where roast pork or roast beef waited--after table grace, of course. Finally, after games of hide-and-seek for us kids and lots of conversation, everyone would go home for bedtime prayers and sleep. I'm guessing that your families had similar ways of spending Sundays, and that they involved church, family, and food, too. That was the norm then. Perhaps some of you came from households where frivolous activities were prohibited on Sundays. You could read the Bible on Sunday afternoons after church, maybe play quietly, and then it was time for evening services. Many of us can remember when stores were closed on Sundays. Salespeople had a day off, and no business was transacted. Perhaps you recall times and places when it was impossible to buy alcohol on Sunday. All of these customs originated from people's ideas about how to obey the Third Commandment: "Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy." From the time this commandment was given by God to Moses, there has been disagreement about why we should honor the Sabbath and how we keep it holy. The book of Exodus links Sabbath observance to the creation: "For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it." In Deuteronomy a different reason is given: "Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day." The Sabbath was meant to be a gift, a time of rest and restoration, a time to worship God. But quickly that gift turned into Law, and all sorts of rules grew up about what was work and what wasn't, what it was permissible to do on the Sabbath and what was not. Keeping the Sabbath holy also meant reserving that day for worship of God, and, as you might guess, people had various ideas about what constituted worship and, therefore, exactly what kept the Sabbath holy.

  I am a person who loves new things. I'm getting older, but I still love trying new things, and I hope that's something that always stays with me. Every time I try to accomplish something new, the first thing I do is read the stories of the people who have done whatever it is before I have. Years ago, I decided that I would run a marathon. So I obsessively read books, blogs, magazines, anything I could get my hands or eyes on that would tell me exactly what it was like to run a marathon, and so that I could read stories about other moms with kids, people with disabilities, all kinds of people, who have run marathons. I recently did my first section hike on the Appalachian Trail, so I looked up all kinds of information about it. I talked to people who had hiked it. I read a book about a man who was blind that hiked the whole thing with his dog. I wanted to hear all the stories, so that I was prepared for what it might be like. I even did this recently with Disney World. My family was going to Disney World for spring break, and my daughter and I were going to go to the parks for the first time in years. I read stories from people who had been recently, looked at their experiences, and tried to learn which rides were best to go to first, and which restaurants needed reservations. Here's my hint...all of them. It sounds a little crazy, but I don't regret any of this. It's true that the only way to truly know what something is like is to experience it, and that's true with all of those things, but I love hearing other people's stories, especially people who have obstacles to overcome. It's really helpful to me to hear about how they persevered when it was time to stand in line for Space Mountain, or to push through miles 20 and 21 of a marathon, or how to set up camp when you're cold, tired, and hungry. I like surrounding myself with stories of people who accomplished more than I can ever dream of, so that I can take just one more step.

  When our oldest son is born, friends come to the hospital, ask to hold the baby, comment on how glad they are that Graham looks like his mother. As they are leaving, several say something like, "Don't blink, because that's how long it will be before he's off to college."  At the time I thought it was a stupid comment. But they were right. My son is a lawyer working on public policy who comes to our house for dinner once a week.  I find this hard to believe.  I feel like he started crawling a month ago, went to kindergarten a week ago, got his driver's license a few days ago.  Seems like only yesterday he was lying on the couch throwing food and making silly noises.  Well, actually, that was yesterday.  The great American poet Dr. Seuss writes, How did it get so late so soon,  It's night before it's afternoon.  December is here before it's June.  My goodness how the time has flewn.  How did it get so late so soon?   It gets so late so soon. We know that life is short and yet we spend our lives as if we have nine of them to spend. We give too many of our days to not nearly enough. We act as if life is always about to begin.  The real part of our life is on the way, but first we have to get past a couple of things, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid, a responsibility to take care of. Then life will begin.

How amazing it is that the Book of Ecclesiastes is even in the Bible. It is a dark and skeptical book, known primarily for its despair that anything worthwhile can ever come of our earthly strivings. "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity," it begins, and it does not let up. Everything is futile. There was a time when the Jewish rabbis were against including it in Holy Scripture. Today it is known as one of the "Wisdom" books of the Bible, a category that includes the Book of Psalms, Proverbs, The Song of Solomon, and maybe even Job. The Wisdom books of the Bible don't tell supernatural stories and miracles; they contain natural philosophy and an ordinary, earthly wisdom. If you know the Bible at all, you know that these books are not always cheery and hopeful. Instead, they represent humanity's search for God in a deeply realistic way, a hard, intellectually challenging way. I love the book of Ecclesiastes, maybe ever since Pete Seeger wrote that great song of the sixties, "Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)." The lyrics of that song are almost entirely taken from Ecclesiastes: "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance."