Dave Dishman

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

It’s one thing to remain in the shadows, but it’s totally different to rest in the shadow of the Lord. His shadow forms a protected position, like the side of a mountain shielded from heavy winds, or a shade tree on a blistering day. Or better yet, like a child holding hands with their father as they cross a busy street.

We choose where we dwell. Before me lies any number of residential options. I can create my own world, unconcerned with the God above. I can pursue my interests and enjoy my company and build a fine life. For a time I might even feel contented and secure. But not forever. In the future, in the dark, in the alone times other shadows will emerge. Not those of the Lord.

Protected, safe, a mind at ease. The long shadow of the Almighty forms a fabulous place to enjoy the Lord and all the good he brings.

Psalm 91:1

Photo by Joao Prates

Jesus healed a man blind from birth. The Pharisees fumed because the healing took place on a Sabbath (Jesus spit on the ground, rolled a bit of mud, anointed the man’s eyes and then told him to go wash it off—all of which constituted forbidden work). But agitation over rule-breaking was a facade. Their jealousy of Jesus ran much deeper.

The ruling council brought in the man for questioning. Next they brought in his parents. Then the formerly blind man again. Back and forth. He was told to denounce Jesus as a sinner. Things were getting out of hand and so the man retorted: Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.

The power of Jesus coalesced in the 20-20 eyes staring back his inquisitors. The man’s rebuttal echos through the centuries. The proof of the divinity of Jesus emerges in the changed lives of those who follow him. Jesus gives sight, both physically and spiritually. He’s the revealer of light, the one who banishes blindness.

I know I’m blind to certain realities around me, like my neighbor’s needs, my self-centeredness, and the slow drip of the world’s influence on my soul. As I read this story I can’t help but wonder: where do I need Jesus to illuminate my life? Lord, anoint my eyes as well, that I may see you and those around me clearly.

John 9:25

Photo by Dyu – Ha

My wife and I just returned from a month-long trip. We led a group on the Camino de Santiago in Spain, then stayed in Europe for a vacation celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary. Both wonderful experiences. We relaxed when we finally walked through our door, dropped our bags, and slept in our own bed. But the gremlins of travel followed us home.

My wife developed a nasty virus and took to bed. As her cough and fever progressed, I woke in the middle of the night to jet-lag. Weary for a few days, we caught up on details put aside during our journey, doing laundry and slogging through what needed to be done. I love travel, but not the reentry. I felt like an old bag of bones.

Which is not the worst thing. The Lord took the prophet Ezekiel to a valley filled with bones and commanded him to speak: As I prophesied, there was a sound, and behold, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And I looked, and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them…Then he said to me…”Say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.” So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.

From old bones bleaching in the desert to an army of flesh and blood, then imbued with the very breath of the Creator in order to come to life. From death to life—that’s how the Lord works.

If God reanimated a valley of bones into a living army, can he not also breath fresh life into you and me? And to all who call upon his name? Even though I feel like an old bag of bones, God himself indwells me. No better way to fight off the gremlins than to ask the Giver of Life for a little more.

Ezekiel 37:7-10

Photo by Kelly Sikkema

My wife and I recently visited the ancient city of Ephesus. Buried for years due to earthquakes and mudslides, excavations started in the last century revealed a stunning metropolis. Once the third largest city in the Roman empire, Ephesus held vast markets for trade goods, numerous temples and fountains, villas with inlaid mosaic floors, and streets paved with marble. The Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, stood at the harbor and underscored the city’s power to anyone arriving by sea.

The Apostle Paul spent three years in this thriving locale, teaching about Jesus and raising up a church. Large numbers of people converted, so many that a controversy erupted. All these new Christians stopped visiting the temple of Artemis and buying her silver statues. Those who depended on this trade argued that without action their money would dry up and the temple of the great goddess Artemis may be counted as nothing, and that she may even be deposed from her magnificence.

The crowd fired up and began roaring, Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!

Paul tried to wade into the melee, but his friends held him back. A wise city official eventually calmed the mob and sent them on their way. But the point was made. This new religion threatened the old.

Today no one worships Artemis. One can purchase a statue of her in a gift shop, but they don’t appear to be high revenue items. Deposed from her magnificence, only one single column of her temple remains, uncovered during the excavations.

In contrast, Paul’s message spread from Ephesus. Today billions follow Jesus, while only a few nerds like myself know of Artemis. Challengers to Jesus continually fall away, be they competing gods or philosophies or ways of life. Adversaries may roar, but opposing the ways of the Lord is doomed for failure. How great is Artemis of the Ephesians? These days, not so much.

Acts 19

Photo: The one remaining column of the Temple of Artemis