Day1 Weekly Radio Broadcast - Day1 Feeds show

Day1 Weekly Radio Broadcast - Day1 Feeds

Summary: Each week the Day1 program, hosted by Peter Wallace, presents an inspiring message from one of America's most compelling preachers representing the mainline Protestant churches. The interview segments inform you about the speaker and the sermon Scripture text, and share ways you can respond to the message personally in your faith and life.

Podcasts:

 Greg DeLoach: Seeing the World in a Whole New Light | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Two powerful stories are before us today. There is this first story about Moses, who according to Jewish thought, is the greatest of all of God's prophets. Moses, the liberator. Moses, the sojourner. Moses, the one who could speak to God face to face, call him by name, and leave the mountain glowing because of the meeting. Like Jesus, in our gospel reading, Moses entered deeply into God's own life, God's own mystery and left the whole encounter shining. We all hunger for that kind of transformation with God, don't we? Theologian Rudolf Otto says that we are both drawn to God and yet terrified of holy encounters. Deep inside, even among the most profane, is a yearning for sacred significance. We want something, someone to stir us deep down so that our face literally radiates holy goodness; something, someone who will leave us shining, shimmering and beaming transcendent. This gospel text of Jesus' transfiguration fits into this,too. Jesus climbs a mountain with Peter, John and James and like Moses of old, radiates from the holy encounter of the glory of God. To be transfigured, you see, is to be swept up into something beyond category. All week long we are categorized and labeled. All week long we answer to names and titles and positions. All week long we are distracted by the many voices calling us and claiming us and at times containing us. It does not take long before we start believing in these categories. When people retire, for example, they are often terrified that they can no longer say, "I am an engineer; I am a teacher; I am a doctor," because the categories are now incomplete. I remember so well when my wife and I were approaching the prospect of an empty nest, we held in tension unbridled joy and identity crisis. Who am I, after all, apart from my children? Or for that matter my job or my marital status? All week long we live under other titles, names and claims.

 Becca Stevens: Loving Our Enemies Is Our Saving Grace | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Walking through the woods in winter, it is easy to spot mistletoe. It sits in splendor on lofty branches high in an elm's canopy. After all the leaves have fallen and the woods have turned to grey, the mistletoe offers white berries and shiny green leaves like a Siren's song to those wandering beneath her. It is no wonder that all kinds of myths and legends have been written about mistletoe. Mysterious and vulnerable, she hovers above in glory offering plenty of room for those of us below her to judge her - both for her beauty and her poison. People have shot mistletoe down with BB guns and climbed dangerously high just to capture her twigs. Bound in ribbon and tied under a doorway, she emboldens those who stand beneath her to await a kiss. One legend declares that the dangerous fruit of mistletoe was used to poison the arrow of an enemy of the goddess of love in order to kill her son. Weeping tears on the deadly arrow, the goddess cast a spell over mistletoe promising all who passed beneath her to be given a kiss. Mistletoe is a good symbol for the absorption that we give an enemy. We build enemies into mythical proportions, then lose sight of the path. Maybe, we think, if we could control our enemies similar to the way we treat mistletoe - cut them down, bind them, or use them for our own purpose - maybe, just maybe, we will gain control of our lives and have the power we think we deserve. Enemies draw us in, and we create myths about them to warrant our contempt. By giving so much power to an enemy, we create legends, give them space in our minds, and allow them to even step into our sacred dream world. When our enemies become our focus, they can obscure our path so we can't see the tree for the proverbial mistletoe and surely lose site of the forest. Walking through the woods, we can always find mistletoe atop oaks, pines, and elms. By viewing and loving mistletoe as part of creation, we can honor it for what it is. We can turn our eyes back to the path in front of us and not be blind to all the amazing gifts of the woods. Mistletoe reminds us that by loving each and every part of creation, both the good and the bad, we are able to keep walking down a sacred path. Loving our enemies is our saving grace.

 Mark Larson: We Deserve to Weep | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  "I deserve to weep." My father and I were standing in a parking lot on a Thursday afternoon, after a funeral. The previous Monday, I'd received a phone call from the pastor of the church where my father had served for over twenty years, the church where I grew up. She had thoughtfully called to let us know about the death of one the members of that congregation. Calling him a "member" was an understatement. "Pillar" would be a more appropriate description. You know, the kind of person you always think will be there, whose fingerprints are on every square inch of that building and that ministry. I thought to myself that this would be a perfect opportunity. Ever since we moved my mother into an Alzheimer's care unit, my dad had been going to visit her once, twice, even three times a day. He really hadn't "transitioned" yet. He had not taken a chance to get away, to break out of the daily routine of caring for my mom that had become the center of his life, to find a "new normal." I thought that this might be opportunity to help him make that transition. I called him up and I said, "Dad, if you want to go to this funeral, I'll go with you." I told him that I thought it would be good for him. He agreed. And so, we met at church on Thursday morning, the day of the funeral. The experience was everything that I hoped that it would be. The service was a wonderful, tender tribute to this faithful servant of the Gospel, this saint of the Church. There was sadness, of course, but also a beautiful celebration of his life.

 Sarah Shelton: A Big Fish Tale: Worthy or Willing? | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  My brother, Jim, is five years my senior, and growing up, he was really cool. I guess I should say that he is still really cool, as our youngest son wants Jim to chaperone his fraternity brothers on a spring break trip to Florida! So, I should probably be thankful for his "coolness," but growing up, it did tend to get in the way. For instance, when he was in high school, I was only in junior high. He could drive. I could not. He had clothes with logos on them. My mother made my clothes. While he enjoyed being out on Friday and Saturday nights, I was babysitting or watching TV with my parents. While I had one or two close friends, Jim had a whole posse of friends. Johnny Davis lived right next door but there were others: Bobby, Prairie Dog (whose real name I still don't know), Edward, Robert and Bill. They were well-behaved guests at our dinner table, but they were also the same crew my brother met up with when he snuck out of the house by climbing out of his second story bedroom window. All of these boys had brothers except for Jim. Jim lived in a house full of over-achieving, over-functioning, bossy, but sweet, sisters. So, whenever he and his friends had to take or pick me up at school, they would roll their eyes as I spilled my books climbing into the back seat of a two-door car. I spilled them because I took too many home and because I was also toting a band instrument. Please note, I did not play the piccolo that is easily carried. No, I played the bassoon, and its case is the equivalent of a suitcase. So besides being "Baby Sister," being a member of the band is probably the thing that made me the most uncool in their eyes. Perhaps they were being playful when they nicknamed me "The Little Bandsman," but I heard it as a damning statement of judgment. It made me feel like I was not even worthy to be in their presence.

 Susan Baller-Shepard: Now I Know | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  In 2008, after losing her parliamentary seat, Wangari Maathai urged tribal elders to help stop ethnic killings, following a disputed presidential election. This was a precarious season. The text messages to her read like this: "Because of your opposing the government at all times ... we have decided to look for your head very soon."  Wangari Maathai was the first African woman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize, and the Nobel Committee said of her, that she was "a strong voice speaking for the best forces in Africa to promote peace and good living conditions on that continent ... her unique forms of action have contributed to drawing attention to political oppression." The push for peace, for justice, made her dangerous. She'd already changed vast numbers of women's lives, pushed for civil rights, as she founded the Green Belt Movement in Kenya, and worked to get over 30 million trees planted in that country. 30 million trees! Of course, there was the fact that she'd faced house arrest, been beaten to unconsciousness, jailed, and received death threats. But we know this, right? To work for peace, to work for justice, to work for civil rights is dangerous work. I got to meet Wangari Maathai in 2007, a year before these death threats, when a friend of mine interviewed her in Chicago, got to hear her sing "Amazing Grace" in Kikuyu. Four years later she died of ovarian cancer.

 Tony Sundermeier: Are All Ushers? | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Several years ago, while serving a congregation in Pennsylvania, I received an email from a pastor friend who detailed his plan for an upcoming sabbatical.  Part of the plan included worshipping one Sunday in the congregation I was serving.  That day eventually came and I told my friend (his name is John) that I would be on the lookout for him. After I wrapped up a Sunday school class, I walked toward the sanctuary, and to my surprise I saw John standing by one of the doors, bulletins in hand, welcoming people who were coming to worship. I approached my pastor friend and curiously asked, "Are you ushering?"  John smiled and quipped, "At least I don't have to preach."  He then explained how it came to be that he was ushering as a first-time visitor to our congregation. He came into the sanctuary, found a seat, when all of a sudden a member of the church who possessed great ambition and moxie - she approached him and said, "Hey, our usher team is short-handed today.  Would you pass out these bulletins by that door and greet people as they come in? Thank you, so much."  John read her cue and clearly understood that he was being volun-told to serve. And, being a gracious person, he politely agreed and took his post as an usher for the morning. While John and I have enjoyed some laughs over the years about his experience, I have come to think about this story in an illustrative way.  Here is what I mean: so many in congregational leadership have been burdened by trying to fill gaps within their church's ministries.  With dwindling membership rolls, aging congregations, and cultural changes that require new ways of bearing witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, it seems that many churches are short-handed.  The refrains go something like this: "We can't get any new Sunday school teachers.  We can't find anyone to volunteer for our Habitat build.  We don't have anyone to run our Advent festival.  We don't have any new recruits for Stephen Ministry. We don't have any ushers lined up for today to hand out bulletins and greet people."

 Christoph Keller III: Water into Wine | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Inside, in church, today is the Second Sunday after the Epiphany. Outside across America, this is a weekend for honoring Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Inside, we listen to Isaiah: For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until her vindication shines out like the dawn. (Isaiah 62:1) Outside, we listen to King, who for his people's sake would not keep silent, and for his country's sake was restless to the end. Inside, we reckon with Israel, the ancient people who struggled with their high call. Outside, it's our turn to do the same. Tolstoy said happy families are alike and unhappy ones are different. That is probably about half-right. Though ancient Israel and modern America are worlds apart, our pain in one respect is similar to theirs. It is the anxiety of having fallen short of a high call, of disappointing something, someone, that we hold dear. America's call rings out from the sacred text of the American experiment. The Declaration of Independence says why the new country would be exceptional among nations: race, language, and geography don't define us, nor unite us. Love of freedom, with acceptance of the truth that all are equal, does. That was Abraham Lincoln's take on American uniqueness. The Constitution was the how of the American experiment, the Declaration gives the why. Immigrants from anywhere, and emancipated slaves, could hear in the Declaration principles that rise above ancestry and nationality. As Lincoln put it in 1858:

 Sally Haynes: Swimming with Jellyfish | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  I still remember the exhilaration I felt, skittering over the surface of the Pamlico Sound on a small sailboat. The sun was shining, and all was well with the world in that way that seems to happen magically when you're on a boat. It was the summer after my senior year of high school, and I was working with a Christian outreach ministry with other college students on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was my day off from my paid work of cleaning bathhouses, so I wandered over to the small sailboat franchise we also helped run. There wasn't a paying customer in sight, so the two guys working it decided it would be okay if we took a boat out onto the water. It might even drum up some business for someone to see our sail out on the waters of the Sound. And so there we were, the three of us. As the guys steered and managed the sail, I looked lazily into the water below. There were schools of jellyfish beneath us, and somehow seeing them below while we sailed across the surface seemed to magnify my sense of security and enjoyment of the beauty of this day in God's good creation. Until that moment when the wind changed suddenly. Our small boat capsized, dumping all three of us into the water. I heard the yelps of the guys immediately as they splashed into a school of jellyfish. But not me. As chance would have it, I had been flung into the sail. There I sat, in water but surrounded by the sail, as if I was in my own private wading pool. And there was not a jellyfish to be found in my private pool.

 Tom Long: The Wrong Town at the Wrong Time | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Last fall in Washington, there was a very contentious Senate hearing over appointing a new justice to the Supreme Court. At one point in the hearing, one of the senators on the committee lost his temper, lost his cool, and melted down in rage. Shaking his finger at the senators from the opposing party, he shouted that they were acting disgracefully and conducting a sham process. And then he turned to the man being examined, the man who was nominated to the Supreme Court, and said to him, "You're looking for a fair process? Well, you came to the wrong town at the wrong time." He was speaking, of course, about Washington in 2018, but ironically, we could say something similar about the wise men in our biblical story from Matthew. They came to the wrong town at the wrong time. Here's what happened in the story. Many years ago, some wise men living in the Eastern lands of the ancient world, saw an amazing sight in the heavens, the rising of a new star, or maybe it was a comet blazing brightly across the dark curtain of the firmament, and they knew that the rising of this brilliant light was a sign from the heavens, a signal that something momentous, something world-changing, had happened. Although we sometimes sing at Christmas-time as if these wise men were kings - "We three kings of Orient are..." - actually they weren't kings at all. They were almost surely philosophers and astrologers, some think they may have been Zoroastrian priests. But, whoever they were, these wise men were shrewd observers of the night sky, those who looked for signs of decisive events and clues to the future in the heavens. So, Matthew tells us that just as Jesus was born, they saw this new star rising in the western sky over Judea, the land of the Jews. Using all their powers of analysis and interpretation, they determined that this star was a sign that a new king had been born; the Jews had been given a new king, and the lights of heaven proclaimed it. What they did not yet know was that this new king who had been born in Judea was not only the King of the Jews, but the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the savior of all, and his name was Jesus.

 Ernest Brooks III: Disruptions, Detours, and Discernment | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  We are presented here a story that is unique among the canonical Gospels, appearing only in the Gospel according to Luke. The introductory verses of the first chapter indicate that the author penned this gospel with the intention of sifting through the many "Jesus stories" circulating in the community that had been passed down from those who identified themselves as "eyewitnesses and servants of the word." The objective was to construct an "orderly account" for the faithful whom he identifies as "friends or lovers of God." After providing a rich account of the events prefiguring and surrounding Jesus' conception and birth, Luke's Gospel focuses intently on the recurring roles of the City of Jerusalem, the Festival of the Passover, and the Jerusalem Temple Complex in Jesus' life story. It was at the Temple in Jerusalem that Simeon and Anna, prophesied over the baby Jesus that he would be "destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel" and that he would be integral to "the redemption of Israel." The only window into Jesus' life that Luke provides between infancy and age 12 is a seeming aside that "the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him."[i] This statement may seem cursory at first glance; however, it is actually laden with purpose and intention. While the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover was an annual ritual for Jesus and his family, this particular pilgrimage was an especially pivotal event in Jesus' process of maturation and formation. At the age of 12, Jesus was transitioning from childhood to adolescence; he was receiving more rigorous instruction in Jewish law and traditions, and he was moving from a dependent relationship with his parents to one marked by interdependence - and even flashes of radical independence! In essence, Jesus, the son of Mary and Joseph, the carpenter from Nazareth, was one step closer to actualizing his destiny as Jesus the rabbi, the rabble rouser, the faith healer, the messiah, the martyr, the Son of God and the Savior of the world.

 Scott Black Johnston: Christmas at John's House | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  The four Christian gospels - Matthew, Mark, Luke and John - each have a unique approach to Christmas. Each author introduces Jesus to the world in a distinctive way. Each has a special story to tell - a perspective to share - a hope to offer. To partake of this hope, Day1 has been visiting the homes of the gospel writers this Advent. We have peeked in frosted windows to see how they have decorated their living rooms. We have noted who sits at their dinner tables. We have asked each of them: "Why do you think this moment in history is significant - is holy?" We began by visiting Mark's house. Mark didn't go in for much in the way of decorations or entertainment. For Mark, Christmas comes while we are in the wilderness. The second house on our tour of homes belonged to Matthew. Matthew was host to a big family reunion. He pulled out the album and the family tree to remind us that we all have been adopted by God. In the third house, Luke invited us to come inside and hold the baby. Holding a baby can be scary. They are so small. So vulnerable. But holding a baby can also give us tremendous hope. Today, we are going to visit John's house. John's home is different from the rest. There are no decorations, no inflatable shepherds or magi or angels. There is not even a baby. Instead, John has put out candles - lots and lots of simple candles - one in every window. Let us listen now for God's Word as it echoes to us from the very beginning of the Gospel according to John 1:1-5:

 Thomas Are, Jr. - Christmas at Luke's House | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  We have been invited to spend Christmas at Luke's house.  Luke's house is not easy to find.  The truth is more than a few folks will drive right by it and have no idea who is inside.  You will have to make your way, as there is no public transportation in Luke's neighborhood. Other Gospel writers live more in the center of things, but not Luke.  He's off the beaten path, way out on the edge of town.  It's a simple place.  You may mistake it for a family farm, like the ones that used to dot the American landscape. Hay is bailed to feed the animals. There are sheep grazing nearby. There's a real manger out back. It's not nostalgia. It's not a sweet part of the story. The manger makes Luke angry. There is no reason the world should not have made room for this baby. There are too many people for whom the world makes no room. Once inside his home, there's a tree in the corner decorated with ornaments that are handmade.  Construction paper and glitter and such...there is an angel on top of the tree. The angel has a name, Gabriel. Names are important to Luke. And one of the most important names is Mary. That may be the most surprising thing about Christmas at Luke's house. We have grown so accustomed to the story, we need to remember that it's a bit surprising to hear this story from Mary. I can't tell you much about this young woman. Over at Matthew's house, they talk about Joseph, and they are quite proud of his heritage. They have gone on ancestry.com and can trace Joseph's family tree all the way back to Abraham.

 Scott Black Johnston: Christmas at Matthew's House | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  How do you celebrate Christmas? What family traditions do you observe? What foods have to be on the table? What decorations must be displayed? What carols do you need to sing in order for you to feel like it is really and truly Christmas? Just as we have our traditions, the four gospels have theirs too. Mark, Matthew, Luke and John each take a unique approach to Christmas. Each introduces Jesus to the world in a distinctive way. This Advent, the Reverend Tom Are, Jr. and I are visiting the homes of the four gospel writers. We are peeking in windows to see how each author has decked the halls. We are noticing who they have invited over for dinner. We are asking: "Why do you think the arrival of Jesus is significant - is holy?" Last week, Tom took us to Mark's house. Mark didn't go in for much in the way of tinsel and garland. Instead, he took us out to the wilderness. For Mark, the wilderness is where we all (at some time or another) live. And when Jesus arrives, he meets us there. The second house on our tour of homes belongs to Matthew. Matthew's place has got cars jamming the driveway and doubled up at the curb. Let's take a stroll up the walk and see what sort of Christmas he is preparing to celebrate. Listen now for God's Word as it echoes to us from the very beginning of the Gospel according to Matthew - Chapter 1, verse 1: Matthew 1: 1 An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham. 

 Thomas Are, Jr. - Celebrating Christmas with Mark | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  When our kids were younger, Christmas meant a road trip. We would rotate among my wife's siblings. First to brother Bob's house. Then brother Dave's house. Then sister Laura. Finally, we would host... and then repeat the rotation. When we moved from the east coast to Kansas City, our trips got longer. It would be one of those trips that was a day and a half in the car, for a day a half with family, then another day and a half in the to get home. I would imagine that our time with family is much like your time with family. We exchanged gifts. We drew names for gifts exchange... seems most years I would draw uncle Dave's name, which is an envied choice. He's impossible to shop for, but he is the most gracious of all of us. No matter what you would give him, he will say it's perfect. You could give him salt and pepper shakers that look like nuns playing bongos and he would say, "That's perfect!" We would have a family meal together, usually turkey... you should have been there the year that everyone got tossed from the kitchen - there were seven or eight in there - and all of them experts in gravy. When you have that many gravy experts, you can stack them all end to end, and they still will not reach a conclusion on just how thick gravy needs to be. We sit at the feasting table, hold hands, and sing the Doxology for our table prayer. The meal will be wonderful. We will share updates of what's going on with each family and tell stories we have told before, including the story about the gravy experts being evicted from the kitchen. We will take the family pictures. Hugs all around, back in the car and head home. I loved the way they all decorated for Christmas. Brother Bob always had a big tree. Brother Dave had single candlelights burning in every window. Sister Laura loved her Christmas cookies and played carols on the piano. In our home there was a nativity scene in almost every room.

 Michael Curry: The King of Love | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

The king of love my shepherd is, whose goodness faileth never, I nothing lack if I am his And he is mine forever.   Jesus of Nazareth has been arrested. He stands before the governor of the empire of Rome, the occupying and ruling power. The governor asks him, "Are you king of the Jews?" That very question suggests that the charge against Jesus is that he is leading a movement to set up a new alternative kingdom to the kingdom, the Empire of Rome. And that charge, if true, would constitute treason against the empire, warranting the sentence of death. "So, are you a king?" Pilate asks. Then Jesus answers, "My kingdom is not from this world." This statement of Jesus has often been interpreted, or misinterpreted rather, to suggest an individualized otherworldly piety, divorced from real life--personal, social, interpersonal, political, public. But that's not what is going on here. The way of Jesus of Nazareth is about how we live our lives individually and collectively, personally and publicly. Listen to what Jesus goes on to say in response to Pilate's question. "My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here."

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