Author: Dave Dishman (Page 231 of 474)

As a kid I used to swear my loyalty to a cause with the phrase cross my heart, hope to die, stick a thousand needles in my eye. After such a promise my devotion remained unquestioned.

At the end of his life, Jacob asked a pledge of his son Joseph. If I have found favor in your eyes, put your hand under my thigh and promise that you will show me kindness and faithfulness. Do not bury me in Egypt, but when I rest with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me where they are buried.

Promising with a hand under a thigh sounds strange to our ears, but at the time it signified a solemn guarantee. No stronger vow existed. To agree meant I’ll do it or die trying.

God’s promise to Abraham passed down through Isaac to Jacob and centered on the land of Canaan. To return to the land—even for burial—focused the minds of these patriarchs. Later, Joseph on his deathbed asked to have his bones carried to the promised land, which Moses took care to do several hundred years later.

Shortly after the death of his father, Joseph followed through on his promise, leading a large retinue of family and friends in a weeks-long funeral procession into the promised land.

Joseph’s unfailing devotion to his father echos to this day, a beautiful refection of how God placed his hand under our thigh and promised—never will I leave you nor forsake you.

Genesis 47 in reading the Bible in 2023

Photo by Ave Calvar

A couple days ago, while waiting to fly from Guatemala City, I read a quote by Francis de Sales, a Catholic saint who died in 1622. In his works he thoughtfully described how we form ourselves spiritually as we live our faith.

In speaking of mundane or frustrating experiences, De Sales tells us, this is the path to heaven—speak this to yourself in the midst of your contradictions. I took his words to mean that we grow and develop and reach into eternity as we endure the challenging parts of life, and learn to see the Lord’s hand behind them. I need to ask, what might the Lord be building in my life through such experiences?

Then, the rest of my day involved delays, long lines at passport control, and rushing through the next airport only to be delayed further. Lots of hurry up and wait before finally hitting my pillow at 1:30 am.

Was I cursed by De Sales?

I doubt it. I just perfectly experienced the life he described. Not much has changed. Through snares and inconveniences we live, and this is the path to heaven.

Long before, Jesus described the path to heaven – I am the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father except through me (John 14:6). His way is narrow and climbing. The path brings stubbed toes and missed flights. But as De Sales and Jesus reminds us, it’s the only path worth following.

Photo by Markus Spiske

This week I slid down the side of a volcano that poured out lava as recently as 2021. Twenty years ago the mountain blew its top and launched so much ash into the air it shut down the national airport for several days. Not exactly stable.

Then an article I saw recently describing Roman building materials popped to mind. In many places, ancient concrete still holds together. In use for 2,000 years, the structures are sound and studied by materials scientists today.

Now that’s steadfast.

We learn this about God’s love in the psalms: Your steadfast love is great above the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the clouds.

God’s love for us remains steadfast—firm, immovable and unwavering. In the case of God’s love, steadfast lasts forever. No chance of blowing its top at the most unfortunate time.

I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable living at the base of a volcano, at least one that erupts every quarter-century or so. But I can rest in the steadfast comfort of God’s love, regardless of where I lay my head at night.

Psalm 108 in reading the Bible in 2023

Photo by Alain Bonnardeaux

I sat in Antigua, Guatemala at the end of our trip with Filter of Hope and came across this in the psalms—The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein, for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers.

This beautiful country belongs to the Lord. We fly home tomorrow to Colorado, which also belongs to the Lord. Every person I meet here and along the way belongs to the Lord.

All I claim to own belongs to the Lord. All the richest in our world possess and gaze upon with pride actually belongs to the Lord, as well as the pennies grasped by the poorest beggar. I may forget, but that doesn’t change the truth. I am not my own.

In reality I am a steward, an important position as I care for the good things the Lord placed under my watch. This goes for the earth and the world around me, as well as those people within my orbit. I hope to help them flourish, enjoy good health, strong relationships, and move closer to the Lord.

This past week stewardship consisted of converting contaminated water to clean. But it also involved opening eyes in fresh ways to the founder of all things.

Because a good steward always points to the owner.

Psalm 24 in reading the Bible in 2023