Author: Dave Dishman (Page 234 of 458)

Poker players famously shield their inner thoughts, not wanting to give any clue to the cards they hold. One thing I love about my wife is that she rarely keeps a secret—her look gives it away. Fortunately, she never plays poker.

Even the best poker players lay open to Jesus. Crowds surrounded Jesus, many beginning to follow him due to his miracles. But Jesus read each person individually, parsing the sincere from the shallow.

Jesus would not entrust himself to them, for he knew all people. He did not need any testimony about mankind, for he knew what was in each person.

Think about how Jesus interacted with people. He watched the widow putting her two pennies in the offering box and knew she gave all she possessed. Jesus felt the sincere faith of the woman who touched him in hopes of staunching years of bleeding. The black hearts of the Pharisees assaulted his senses.

Just as Jesus knew the heart of everyone around him in first century Palestine, he knows the hearts of you and me. If Jesus sat with me over a coffee, I would squirm and avoid eye contact as Jesus read my cards. Hopefully, after the initial deflections, I would open up under the caring eye of the Savior. No use hiding, Jesus knows all about me already.

Which is a truth to take to heart. Jesus knows you and me better than we know ourselves, and still lived and died for you and me. More accurately, Jesus died and now lives with you and me. If you wonder about your worth, think of Jesus and his knowledge of you.

And be sure to remember, you don’t want to play poker with Jesus.

John 2 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Michał Parzuchowski

I spent last week in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, working on an advanced degree, a week filled with seminars, case studies, and interactions with students and professors. I thoroughly enjoyed the people and the learning.

When I engage in conversations regarding living out theology, it’s easy for me to get lost in the weeds. Maybe we should pursue this, or maybe churches would grow if we did that? Where are we lacking, or failing, or succeeding? How do we build the church united?

Then I opened my Bible this morning to John chapter 1: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.

Jesus is the light of all mankind.

If my studies don’t end with Jesus and point the world around me to Jesus, then my learning is a charade. All other paths up the mountain lead to box canyons and false summits. Religion is only beautiful with Jesus at the core.

Such thoughts reset my world view. The point of study, the end of theology, the culmination of learning should point me and others to the light of all mankind.

Now back to the books.

Photo by Kenny Eliason

I travel quite a bit, and I notice some trips go by quickly while others seem to take forever. I once flew 17 hours from Johannesburg, South Africa to Atlanta. I found my seat and started watching movies. Watch a movie, take a lap around the plane, watch another movie and so on. The trip proved less torturous than expected.

I returned from Sioux Falls, South Dakota this week (just over an hour in the air) and the flight felt like forever. Antsy the whole way, I just wanted off the plane. Sometimes a short time feels long.

God’s schedule with us feels arbitrary, so it’s helpful to remember that with the Lord a day is like a thousand years. He is patient and wants all to come to repentance. Not slow at all, the Lord continues with untiring compassion. He extends time to those who need it.

The opposite is also true with God—a thousand years are like a day. The Lord moves fast when he wishes. I shouldn’t picture the Lord dozing somewhere in the heavens, lazy and forgetful. At some point the day of the Lord’s return will come like a thief.

Best keep a light burning.

2 Peter 3 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Jarrod Reed

In my twenties I often signed a note to a friend (when I wrote one) with my name and underneath added a verse reference—Psalm 137:9. Rarely did anyone look up the verse references that appeared in various letters, so I got creative. I received few comments on this one, confirming my hunch.

So what does Psalm 137:9 actually say?

Blessed is he who seizes your little ones and dashes them against the rocks.

Wait—that’s in the Bible?

Psalm 137 is a song of lament. It starts, by the waters of Babylon, we sat and wept. The writer describes the agony of being conquered and enslaved. After living through the destruction of the city, the rape and murder of loved ones, the weary march into Babylon, their captors gleefully forced a chorus of happy songs.

The writer retaliated with his pen, wishing the same cruelty on his new masters.

Does God really condone smashing babies? No, but the Lord does allow us to express our pain in as honest a way as possible. There’s no need to tiptoe. Frustrations, doubts, anger, rage, the Lord handles them all—in fact, welcomes them.

The Lord, who’s honest with us through his word, welcomes our candor in return. Don’t hold back. Talk with him often. He can handle whatever you have in mind.

Psalm 137 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Álvaro Serrano