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:

 Susan Cartmell: What Have You Done? | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  David was a charismatic leader, a brilliant strategist, an ambitious politician, and a man of enormous personal energy. He alone united Israel's various tribes, North and South, into one nation. From his childhood when he showed up to do battle with a sling, he was able to assess danger, recognize opportunity, and face fear. Stories of his military escapades dazzle the imagination, and though they may have grown in the telling, no one doubts his prowess. David was also human. Nowhere is his humanity revealed more tragically than here in this story about David and Bathsheba. Here, we realize that David's blessings were also his curse. His ambitious way of taking property extended to women, too. Let's take a closer look at this story to see what it is saying to us today. In the first place, the story of David and Bathsheba is about abuse of power, not an act of passion. David was promenading on the upper balcony of his palace one day when he spied Bathsheba bathing on the roof of her home. He was used to getting whatever he wanted; if he couldn't get it easily, he took it. So, David sent for Bathsheba and forced himself upon her. In time, she discovered she was pregnant and sent word to the king. Now Bathsheba was married, and her husband was a good man, a loyal officer in David's own army, but it didn't matter to David who Bathsheba was married to. It didn't matter how much his rape hurt her or her husband. This is not about passion; it was always about prerogative and power.

 Kelly Hough Rogers: Abundance Born Out of Scarcity | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  During my time in seminary, I had the good fortune to be a chaplain in a national park through an interdenominational ministry known as A Christian Ministry in the National Parks. Not all Christian Ministry in the National Parks host sites are places of great natural beauty. They are battlefields and monuments as well as forests, seashores, swamps and canyons. The National Parks system is full of sites that help us understand our unique American heritage. Whenever I am near a National Parks site, I visit. Not only do I visit to once again be awed by the wonder of creation, I visit to learn about the history of this nation. I visit to expand my worldview. And I visit to support this vital resource we are lucky enough to have and I visit to remind myself to pray and work toward the hope of maintaining this resource for future generations. Recently, I was attending a conference in San Francisco with my clergy community of practice and several of us decided to visit the area of Redwood Creek, which was preserved by William and Elizabeth Kent. Over 100 years ago, this area had yet to be logged as it was not easy to access. So, in 1905, the Kents purchased over 600 acres and preserved nearly 260 acres as Muir Woods. Muir Woods is a pristine example of an old-growth coastal redwood forest. Redwood trees are very unique. Most reproduce as part of a family circle, but occasionally seeds that fall on fresh mineral soil will germinate. Those lone, isolated trees never grow as tall as the trees in a family group. And they will only grow in soil that has been exposed by flooding, fire, or wind. It is only out of destruction that a lone redwood can be born. Redwood seeds are small; their cones are only an inch long and it would take 100,000 seeds to weigh a pound. But one tiny seed from one tiny cone is enough to grow the tallest species of tree in the United States.

 William Flippin Jr.: Counterfeit Clergy | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Father Frederico B. Gomez de Esparza was a Catholic priest affectionately known throughout his parish in Yuma, Arizona as Father Fred. He was a priest that hailed from Mexico and who served bilingual parishes in Arizona. By all accounts, Father Fred did his job well. Everybody loved him. He was known for his sermon mastery and knowledge of the Roman Catholic Church. He also knew the Scriptures, administered the sacraments, comforted the sick, conducted wedding and funerals - everything that clergy are supposed to do. He was later found out of having no credentials and was counterfeit. The parishioners who trusted him were deceived, describing him as a "wolf in sheep clothing." The discovery of counterfeit clergy can often cast a shadow on others who serve faithfully. Incidents like this, however, can also help us clergy take a more in-depth look at Shepherding God's people authentically. What happens when a pastor isn't who he or she appears to be? The weeping prophet Jeremiah was troubled throughout his career by those who pretended to be real prophets but were not (27:16-22; 28; 29:8, 9). They preached a straightforward message of "peace in our time" and were no doubt popular. Here the prophet denounces them. He calls them "shepherds that destroy and scatter sheep of God's pasture for lack of visitation." Three significant accusations come against civil rulers who remind us of many of our politicians today.

 Peter Wallace: Let's Dance | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  I have a confession: I've got no rhythm. When it comes to dancing, I have the proverbial two left feet. A few years ago, Time magazine reported that scientists had confirmed that this is an actual condition. I quote: "A 23-year-old man named Mathieu has been identified as the first documented case of beat deafness, meaning he cannot feel or move to music's beat. Mathieu moves to music at a pace unrelated to its actual rhythm." The story says he's not tone deaf, he can sing in tune and recognize familiar songs. Scientists think with further study, "beat deafness" may join "tone deafness" as a music-specific disorder. It could also explain the phenomenon known as "dad dancing." Well, I may not have beat deafness, but for me, way back when, those junior high mixers, the high school prom--they were sheer torture. I did best at slow dances where you just hold on and try to move together in a circle, though it made me a little dizzy. With faster songs I just tried to move my feet and arms in some kind of animated way, but I'm sure I looked like Elaine on Seinfeld--do you remember that episode where she dances to great ridicule from her friends? Yeah, that way. Thankfully, I'm no longer required to attend dances like that. But I do admire those who are able to move so gracefully--whether because of their training at the Bolshoi Ballet, or on the Broadway stage, or at Arthur Murray's Dance Studio. And yes, there are times when I want to move to the rhythm of God's Spirit. Sometimes I just want to let loose and dance before God.

 Kimberleigh Buchanan: The Strength of Weakness | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  I began reflecting on today's text in the midst of a family member's medical crisis. A routine test had quickly turned into a medical emergency. After two weeks of riding a medical roller coaster, my loved one was stable enough for me to return home. On the drive, I reflected on all that had happened. Paul's words about finding strength in weakness came to mind. The previous two weeks had felt like a crash course in weakness. Where was the strength in it? Today's verses come at the end of what some scholars call Paul's "Foolish Speech." In it, the apostle defends himself against the false teaching of so-called "super-apostles." These teachers, who had arrived after Paul's departure from Corinth, boasted often of spiritual visions. They cited these fantastic encounters with the divine as their credentials for being apostles. Employing the super-apostles' methods, Paul also begins to boast. He too knows a man - a thinly-veiled reference to himself - who had a fantastic vision where he encountered the divine. But it's not the vision about which Paul boasts. Instead, he boasts of his weakness. That is Paul's "foolishness." He turns boasting on its head. His best credential for apostleship is not special visions, but his thorn in the flesh. When Paul is weak, he says, that's when he's strongest. Strength in weakness? What could Paul possible mean here? He explains. Paul finds weakness to be his greatest source of strength because it is in weakness, he says, that the power of Christ becomes real. It is in his weakness that he experiences God's grace most profoundly. "My grace is sufficient for you," Paul hears God say.

 Kimberleigh Buchanan: Healing Faith | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  What must life have been like? Twelve years sick. Destitute from medical bills, Likely excluded from her religious community, perhaps from any community. Alone. How much energy must it have taken each morning to lift her fatigued, anemic body, to look for food, to search - again - for a cure. To wash her clothes. Always, to wash her clothes. I wonder if she prayed. I wonder if in her forays into the community anyone ever noticed her. One day, Mark tells us, Jesus came to town. She went to see him. Maybe at first, as was her custom, she hovered around the edge of the crowd. But eventually, something awakened inside her and propelled her into the crowd, to reach out, to touch Jesus' cloak. With the touch, finally, came the healing she'd been longing for. Jesus, aware that healing had gone out from him, asked who had been healed. The disciples noted the large number of people around him. What kind of question was that? But maybe Jesus' question wasn't for information. Maybe instead it was an invitation - an invitation to the woman to testify, to witness to her own healing, to her own determination to obtain that healing. "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease." Today's story of the hemorrhaging woman is what some would call the "meat" of a "Markan sandwich." The author of Mark's Gospel is fond of starting to tell one story, interrupting it with a second story, then concluding the first story. The stories are meant to be read together. They inform each other.

 Martha Spong: All in the Same Boat | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  I thought it was a brilliant idea. I was serving a church in Maine, where Summer Sundays are not the best-attended. The window of good weather is brief, and people want to be in their gardens or at their lakeside camps. That particular summer, I felt motivated to make worship interesting for the ones who did come. For this story from Mark 4, I arranged the text for multiple readers, plus the congregation, with effects designed to put us all in the midst of the storm. I started planning weeks before with a church member who worked with our youth, and he recruited a 13-year-old to help him devise stormy sound effects. They brought a large jug of water to slosh around, amplified by a microphone, and they improvised a thunder sheet. We met the day before with the four readers to practice. At the rehearsal, I liked the thunder sheet so much I decided to incorporate it into my sermon. On Sunday morning, I gave a copy of the manuscript to my sound guys so they would know when to make noise. They practiced again just as worshippers began to arrive, then stepped away while a prelude was played and most of the congregation took their seats. I slipped away to put on my robe, so it was about worship time minus 60 seconds, and I was about to go through door into the sanctuary when the head Deacon for the day stopped me and said someone in the congregation was upset, even angry, about the makeshift thunder sheet. I hadn't stopped to think about whether the particular sounds would be distressing to anyone who might be with us that day. "What? It's too late to change it now!" I said.

 Chris Henry: Faith in a Seed | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  "With many such parables, he spoke the word to them. He did not speak to them except in parables." The words of Mark seem to summarize the preaching ministry of Jesus. Time and again in the gospels, Jesus gathers a crowd of followers together and speaks to them, not in propositional assertions, creedal statements, or enumerated lists but through these vivid and memorable narratives. A sower went out to sow. A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho. There was a man who had two sons. The parable was such a powerful tool for Jesus because through it he transformed everyday, mundane events and objects-a mustard seed, yeast mixed with flour, a net thrown into the sea, a landowner who went out to hire laborers-into sacred channels for divine truth. Parables do not explain God's kingdom. They describe it in ways that are accessible to hearers. And yet parables are not merely descriptive. They are transformative. They reframe our vision of those ordinary events and objects. And so, each parable has a punch line, a moment of revelation, a surprise turn that shocks and sometimes even offends listeners. Often the story is going along exactly as we would expect, nothing remarkable: a shepherd is trying to keep track of one hundred aimless dumb sheep, and, of course, one of them gets away, gets lost. But then, the punch line comes: the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine sheep behind to chase after the one that is lost. And in this surprise turn at the end, we see clearly displayed the difference between our world (practical, moderate, rational) and the kingdom of God (extravagant, unrestrained, imprudent).

 Ozzie Smith Jr.: When Jesus Comes Home | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Several summers ago while on vacation, I purchased a small white wooden sign from a gift shop that read, "Friends welcome, relatives by appointment only." That sign arrested my attention while also stating an oft-unspoken truth. Friends are sometimes easier to deal with than family. Jesus says as much near the end of our passage today. His actions in this brisk-paced text have stirred the pot. He is harassed by the rumor of the crowd, demonized by the ideology of the scribes, and annoyed by the pressure of family. Here is evidence that no good deed of ministry goes unpunished. What's wrong with healing and casting out demons? Instead of order, there seems to be chaos. It seems that there are systems with a vested interest in unwellness. Yet, through all of this, Jesus remains on point, on mission and on message. Like a Timex, he takes a licking and keeps on ticking. Thomas Long is quoted by Kate Huey in Sermon Seeds as saying, "Jesus just moves right along." In this chaos-paced account of Mark, Jesus moves right along. I would add that Jesus moves right along. Let us be clear, "Right doesn't wrong anybody." He asks a few annoyed churchfolk, "Is it right to heal or just let a man with a withered hand suffer?" Jesus moves right along. His right, however, seems wrong to his very vocal critics. Because he is changing lives, he is deemed out of his mind. Because he is casting out demons, he must be Satan himself. He's even run afoul of his own family. What do you do when your good is called bad? How do you manage to press on to the higher calling when the Twitter feeds of your time mock and malign everything you do? Jesus came to love, heal, and forgive. And in this text Jesus moves right along.

 Ellen Richardson: The Man with the Withered Hand | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  What is it like to experience a story of healing? When does healing happen and how do we recognize it? Does healing require a recognizable change in the body to count, or is it really about something else? The healing of the man with the withered hand in today's gospel from Mark is one that happens so quickly that it is almost lost in the greater drama that surrounds it. The scene is a synagogue, a place of teaching and worship. The attention-grabbing characters - the law-loving Pharisees and the power-craving Herodians - have been trailing Jesus and his disciples, a chorus of judges waiting for Jesus to make a mistake that they would be most happy to hold against him. These strange bedfellows - usually political opponents - found it expedient to work together when it came to undermining the authority and credibility of the one they both perceived as a threat: the One called the Messiah. The prelude to the healing involves these enemies of Jesus trailing after his followers through the fields and the town to get to the synagogue. The Pharisees had caught the disciples plucking the heads off the grain as they walked through the fields - probably more an absent-minded reflex like chewing on a blade of grass than a deliberate attempt to glean the fields for a meal. This did not keep the Pharisees from accusing them of harvesting on the Sabbath - a gotcha they wasted no time laying on Jesus. Neither the Pharisees nor the Herodians cared much about people, about the human condition. The Pharisees reveled in righteous indignation at this itinerant preacher with his crazy ideas about loving enemies and blessing the ragtag army of the unclean who followed him around. The power hungry Herodians merely capitalized on an opportunity to use one enemy to combat another. From Jesus, with his inner radar set to detect manipulation, and to care about every sheep in the pasture, every lamb in the fold, came exasperation in facing community leaders behaving badly - their hardness of heart breaking his own.

 David Hull: Benediction | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  The Benediction was my favorite part of the Sunday morning worship service. As a young child, I thought I knew what Benediction meant. The cartoons I watched signed off with "That's all folks!" and I knew the cartoon was over. Benediction was the church's way of saying, "That's all folks!" Soon I could get up and move around. No longer did I have to be quiet and worry about the stern look from my Mother if I was not so attentive. Lunch was not far away. I loved the Benediction and everything that it represented! Much later in life, I learned what "benediction" really means. It simply means "a good word." As worship concludes, a "good word" is spoken to the congregation. Often, we bow our heads as if it is a prayer, but the "good word" is usually a word spoken more to the worshipper than to God. It sends us out from the worship where we have gathered in God's name to be scattered into the world to live on mission from God. The Bible is filled with benedictions. The ancient Hebrews used them; the Apostle Paul often closed his letters with one. Today, ministers sometimes use these biblical benedictions to send the congregation into the world. From the time I was five until I was sixteen, John Claypool was my pastor in the Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky. He had written his own benediction. Every week he spoke the same words at the conclusion of worship. Soon the congregation began to learn these familiar refrains and would even whisper them along with the preacher. As I grew older, the benediction took on new meaning for me. No longer was it just the end of worship. Instead, it became the chance for me to speak along with my pastor. The words that had become so familiar to me took on the profound effect of ritual. Each phrase of John's benediction began to be planted like seeds in my mind and heart. Most of John's sermons I do not remember. I will never forget his benediction. I have used it throughout my ministry. Have you heard these words before?[i]

 Juan Carlos Huertas: Understood | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  All of a sudden, they understood! The scared disciples becoming courageous proclaimers, the hesitant and doubt filled ones now bold and assured, the Aramaic speaking ones, now heard in all possible tongues. What was happening? Jesus had promised from the very beginning that he would leave but that he would not leave the disciples alone. Again, and again, he told them that he would die and leave them, but the disciples did not believe. In fact, often they responded in despondency and anger. "Stop talking about that!" They would say. But soon, the unthinkable happens and they all, in their own way, go back to life as before. The memories of their life with Jesus becoming like a fairy tale, sadness settling in because they missed their friend. Disappointment settling in because, for a moment, it seemed that all was lost. Then he appears, like he said he would! He again walks with them and talks with them, he reminds them that they are to carry on the work that he had begun, that although he had to leave, he would not leave them alone, he would send his Spirit. As he was lifted into the heaven, he tells them to go back to Jerusalem and wait there... I can only imagine the excitement mixed with apprehension as the followers of Jesus gathered in that upper room. This time they could not go back to life as usual. They had not just witnessed their friend, teacher, and Lord die, but now they had experienced his resurrection. They had touched his wounds, seen him enter into locked rooms, and disappear into thin air. They had been reminded of their mission, to continue the work that Jesus had begun. To continue healing, exorcising demons, restoring, forgiving, peace-making, loving. As they went about their work, they were to remind those around them that the kingdom of God was visiting them, the shalom of God, the wholeness and completeness of God taking form right before their eyes.

 Juan Carlos Huertas: Why Are You Looking Up? | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  It was a promise. They would not be left alone. They had already lost him once and were already grieving losing him again. There had been so many amazing moments. So many miraculous things, so many people healed, so many conversations had, and so many opportunities to learn. There was also that amazing set of weeks when they had gone two by two to rehearse the work of Jesus. The disciples returned filled with joy at what they had seen, at the ways that God had used them to bring the kingdom to those that needed it most. There had also been the sadness of their friend, teacher, and Lord taken into custody and then crucified. Then the disappointment of their actions caused by their lack of faith and their fear. Then he showed up, like he said he would. He encountered the two disciples as they went to Emmaus then he met the twelve. Thomas could not believe it until he saw it, all were comforted that Thomas had spoken what many of them felt. This time though was all about passing on the work, about giving final pointers, and about reminding them that they would have what they needed to continue the work started. This work was the kingdom, the visible rehearsal of what would be permanent at the end of time. What could be better than the presence of the resurrected Jesus? Soon they would find out. Ascension Sunday pivots us from Eastertide into Pentecost. It moves us from the long narrative of Jesus' life that culminated with his death and resurrection and now lands us in this moment. We like the disciples, are left wondering, what now? Life in Jesus would be easier with his physical presence. I often wish I could hang out with him like the twelve did.

 Kimberly S. Jackson: Quack Like a Duck: Singing in the Rain | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  Each morning before even getting out of bed, I am still and listen for my animals. Can I hear the chickens singing their egg songs - to make sure that everyone around knows that they just produced new eggs? Can I hear the distinct sounds of my sure-footed goats hopping over logs, foraging for breakfast, and calling out to the others to come and taste something new? Has Arnold, my cat, taken his place at the door and started demanding his morning meal? And I always know if it's raining because the usual morning farm sounds are absent. The goats stay in and the chickens hold off on their singing. Even Arnold prefers to sleep in. At first, I will only hear the sound of rain. It's as if the animals have made some secret pact to never speak on rainy mornings. But, then, when I listen a little closer and with a bit more focus, I can hear the sound of birds. The sounds are not melodic like the early morning songs of a nightingale, but I'm clear that my four ducks, are in fact, singing songs. While every other animal takes cover in the sheer distaste for rain - the ducks waddle their way to the farthest edge of the property. They find the biggest puddles in the entire yard, and they make a joyful noise! They quack in a cacophony of delight and joy as water anoints their feathers and washes over their wings. The Psalmist in today's appointed psalm instructs the people to sing songs to the Lord, because of the marvelous things that God has done. Recalling historic victories in battles and celebrating a longstanding special relationship with God, the Psalmist wants the people to sing because of the Lord's past record of showing steadfast love towards a particular group of people.

 David Gushee: Justice Denied--Except from the God of Love | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

  In the story of the Ethiopian eunuch, we meet a man who occupied a post of high authority in Ethiopia, but who, on account of his status as a eunuch, could not have worshipped in the Jewish Temple or become a part of the Jewish community even if he wanted to with his whole heart. This was a man who knew something about humiliation, and so it is no coincidence that he was drawn to Isaiah 53 and its amazing depiction of a suffering servant who brings redemption - quoting, "in his humiliation justice was denied him" but also, "the righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous." Who can this be? The Ethiopian eunuch knew quite a bit about suffering servants, being one himself. But where, but how, is the redemption? Where, how, is God in this? This is not the normal picture of God. Everyone knows that God redeems through triumph, not through humiliation. Humans often lose but God always wins. But Isaiah 53 speaks of a God who, in and through humiliation and injustice, redeems. The eunuch wants to know and serve this God, and through Philip, he meets him. He learns that his name is Jesus. Psalm 22 parallels Isaiah 53, at least in historic Christian interpretation. We know part of this text at least, because our hearts are pierced with it each Lenten season by encounter with Jesus' cry of dereliction, drawn from Psalm 22:1 - "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Read further, and we see that Psalm 22 is yet another text of a human being suffering humiliation at the hands of others - quoting, "But I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people. All who see me mock at me."

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