Dave Dishman

I’ve been told you can’t squeeze blood from a turnip, so I wonder how you get honey from a rock?

Asaph, the psalmist, refers back to something Moses wrote many years before. When wandering through the wilderness, God provided for the children of Israel. Whether is was manna surrounding the camp or quail raining down or water gushing from a rock face, God came through in unexpected ways.

I also face wilderness experiences. In difficulties I swing between seeking the Lord or turning away in frustration. But God is found in the wilderness, and when I persevere I begin to understand Asaph when he writes, with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.

In wilderness I grow tough. In wilderness I develop fortitude. In wilderness I discover wisdom. Through all the adversity, if I struggle on, I will eventually enjoy the goodness of the Lord—honey from the rock.

Psalm 81:16

Photo by Isabela Kronemberger

I like milk, I always have. When our kids were teenagers we went through several gallons of milk a week (they also liked milk). We bought so much milk my wife and I contemplated lacing it with sawdust, anything to fill their bellies.

As much as I like milk, my body requires more than dairy. The author of Hebrews chided the church for their failure to move on to a more robust diet:

For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

These folks forgot the basic principles of the Christian faith, and like a toddler demanded the bottle. They remained unskilled in the word. This group lacked the maturity that only comes from practicing the tenets of the faith.

As followers of Jesus, we move to the adult table by learning to discern good from evil. We apply the teachings of Scripture to the world we inhabit. By evaluating and shaping our ways to match Biblical norms we gain skill in differentiating the good things in the world from those bent on destruction. It takes constant practice to develop this skill, which is why so many people fail.

Let us move on from milky faith to confident belief. To discern good from evil, we must first possess directives telling us what is actually good and truly evil. Then we follow those directives. Gaining any skill takes hard work. We have the directives—the Word of God—now it’s up to us to put in the work.

Hebrews 5:11-14

Photo by Aaron Burden

Everyone has a voice and no one is afraid to use it. Layers upon layers of jabber. Or so it seems when I scroll my news feed or browse social media. Some of what is said is positive, and I try to add such thoughts when I post. But negativity pushes towards center stage.

We converse more civilly in face-to-face interactions. I keep a pleasant veneer even if I speak ill of someone behind their back. Not sure that’s much better than sniping on the internet, but maintaining a level of decorum feels like a win.

King David dealt with wagging tongues and whispers behind his back. A royal court breeds insinuations and jockeying for power. In his shifting circumstances David sought refuge in the Lord. He praised God for protection:

Oh, how abundant is your goodness, which you have stored up for those who fear you and worked for those who take refuge in you…In the cover of your presence you hide them from the plots of men; you store them in your shelter from the strife of tongues.

David yearned for shelter from the strife of tongues. Sounds like a modern desire does it not? David reverenced the Lord and found sanctuary. The goodness of God mutes the power of the tongue. I recognize this works both ways. God helps me handle barbs, and the Lord lays bare the excesses of my own tongue. Both actions shelter me from conflict (which honestly springs more me than others).

Perhaps because I live and work in a world of words it feels like more chatter is battered about than every before—much of it negative. So I my spirit finds rest knowing a shelter exists impervious to the strife of tongues.

Psalm 31:19-20

Photo by Melyna Valle

Of the many religious ceremonies instituted for the nation of Israel, the one I would most like to have seen was the ritual of goats on the Day of Atonement. Once a year, the high priest would lead a pair of goats into the temple. One goat he sacrificially killed, sprinkling its blood on the alter. Here are the instructions for the other:

Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and all their transgressions, all their sins. And he shall put them on the head of the goat and send it away into the wilderness by the hand of a man who is in readiness. The goat shall bear all their iniquities on itself to a remote area, and he shall let the goat go free in the wilderness.

The complex system of sacrifices for the forgiveness of sin failed to cover every possible issue. The live goat bore away the rest of the iniquities. This practice points to Jesus, who himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness.

This scapegoat makes for a compelling image of the Messiah. No amount of sacrifices covered all the sins of the people. Not enough blood of bulls and goats exists to make full and final atonement. It took one ultimate sacrifice to bear away every one of our sins. Which makes Jesus truly the GOAT—the greatest of all time.

Leviticus 16:20-22; 1 Peter 2:24

Photo by Max S.