Author: Dave Dishman (Page 10 of 456)

Bright ideas come from all sorts of places. When facing a problem I often need to branch outside my regular circles of influence to find a fresh solution. It serves me to read broadly, to listen to people I don’t know, and to not discount a solution just because it sounds unusual. Did you know epsom salts can help break up an old tree stump? I learned of this yesterday and will give it a try come spring. I had no idea…

Moses faced a daunting challenge, serving as the judge and jury over the entire nation of Israel. With a population of well over a million people, plenty of disputes landed in his lap. The people stood before him from morning to evening. Can you imagine a worse way to spend your day, listening to the arguments of angry people, many over petty issues of neighbors and family members?

Jethro, Moses’s father-in-law, rescued Moses with a brilliant idea. He sat Moses down and gave him this advice: Look for able men from all the people, men who fear God, who are trustworthy and hate a bribe, and place such men over the people as chiefs of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties, and of tens. Let them judge the people at all times. Every great matter they shall bring to you, but any small matter they shall decide themselves. So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you.

This proposal spread the responsibility for adjudicating disputes among hundreds of trustworthy and capable leaders. It lightened Moses’s load, and initiated the chosen arbiters into a new level of authority. Israel, a collection of tribal families fresh from slavery, needed to quickly grow into a self-sustaining nation. Appointing this set of judges helped develop a leadership base where none existed before.

Jethro was not a Hebrew. As an outsider he brought a fresh perspective to the problem. His wisdom saved Moses days of mind-numbing tedium, and as a bonus the people got their disputes solved quicker. Jethro’s discerning counsel benefited the entire nation, and I’m reminded that good ideas are good ideas, regardless of where they come from.

Exodus 18:21-22

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I was taught in high school and college to keep my sentences short. Since then I’ve read a number of books about writing (always trying to improve), and all offer the same advice. Among other things, a reader processes short sentences better, thus making complex ideas simpler to follow.

But the Apostle Paul, the most prolific of Biblical authors, spurned such advice. He preferred the comma over the period. Check out this one sentence from his letter to the Ephesians:

For this reason, because I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come.

I hate to critique the most-read author who ever lived, but Paul’s style makes it hard to follow his complex thoughts. Following his argument is like peering into a deep pool, the bottom undefined, or as Paul himself put it, looking into a mirror dimly.

But when I take my time and break down this dizzying sentence, beauty emerges. Paul prays that we may experience the wisdom and power of our Lord Jesus Christ. God called us to riches beyond our imagining, and Paul prays that the eyes of our hearts will light up with this knowledge.

What I appreciate about Paul’s style is how it draws me into truth. I want to gaze into that pool, to dive into his teachings. The wisdom of God and the power of Jesus indeed exist. It takes unhurried thought and to be honest, hard work to mull it all over. But within this long glorious sentence lies the spark to set our hearts afire.

Ephesians 1:15-21

Photo by Zhuo Cheng you

I read a troubling statistic recently. While plenty of teenagers goof around with AI companions, one-third of teens use a chatbot as a replacement for human conversation about serious matters. Many teens find these bots appealing due to their constant availability (they never sleep) and lack of judgmental attitudes.

Contrast this practice with Paul’s encouragement to the believers in Galatia: Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Is there a more pertinent command for our society in all of Scripture?

People live in ever-increasing isolation, in self-contained bubbles where an online avatar substitutes for relationships with living people. Small wonder suicides rates have climbed since the advent of smart phones. What do we do about it? Bear one another’s burdens.

An AI chatbot won’t carry your load. An algorithm won’t draw you in for a much needed hug or offer you a heartfelt prayer. We need real people. We need each other.

Encourage connection wherever possible. Promote going to church, where living, breathing people sing and learn and talk and pray and visit. This ancient practice holds tremendous promise for today’s ills. Gather with like-minded believers—our fellow burden-bearers.

Look around, say hello to people, ask if that person needs help with their groceries. Offer to pray for your restaurant server (my wife does this). Provide human connection. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Bear someone’s burden, and you’ll soon find someone bearing yours as well.

Galatians 6:2

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Does God see us in our distress? Sure doesn’t feel like it. Everyone who ever contemplated God wonders where he is sometimes. This question courses through the Bible, expressed by David in his psalms and by the children of Israel as they wandered in the wilderness. Most tellingly Job, the oldest book in the Bible, centers around this theme—God do you know what’s happening to me? Do you care?

The Egyptian kings worried about the people of Israel who lived among them as their population swelled. So the kings put them to forced labor, and began an organized slaughter of Jewish baby boys. In the midst of such brutality, the people cried out for salvation.

Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel—and God knew.

God knew. What a stunning reality. The God of the universe understood their plight, and in these words we see the promise of action to come. God remembered his earlier promises (as if God ever forgot), and knew the time to move had arrived.

God waited for the right leader (Moses), the right villain (Pharaoh), and the right people fed up enough to leave the only home they ever had to set off through the wilderness for a promised but unseen land inhabited by enemies bent on their destruction. God knew the time was right.

I think I know when the time is right, but God doesn’t always agree. When I complain about God not paying attention, stories like this one helps me perceive that God will act, albeit on his schedule. Despite my angst, I rest assured in that fact that the Lord sees and the Lord knows.

Exodus 2:23-25

Photo by Marco Grosso