Author: Dave Dishman (Page 277 of 458)

Today I read this line in Psalm 146—The Lord gives sight to the blind.

I started thinking of the wide varieties of blindness Jesus faced, and people who benefited from his touch:

Those blinded physically—Bartimaeus.

Those blinded by Jesus himself—Saul.

Those blinded by death—Lazarus.

Those blinded by wealth—Zacchaeus.

Those blinded by ethnicity—the Samaritan woman at the well.

Those blinded by power—Pilate.

Those blinded by grief—Jairus.

Those blinded by disease—the ten lepers.

Those blinded by worry—Martha.

Those blinded by the spiritual powers—the Gerasene demoniac.

Those blinded by hopelessness—the woman who bled for 12 years.

Those blinded by religiosity—Nicodemas.

Those blinded by education—teachers in the temple.

Finally, those blinded to the ways and knowledge of the Lord—me and you.

The Lord gives sight to the blind—again and again and again.

Psalm 146 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Krissana Porto

Do you think of someone at the apple of your eye? Or, do you know someone, perhaps a doting grandparent, who thought of you in that way? Someone who cherished you above all others?

The phrase originates in the Old Testament. David, in a prayer of distress, asked the Lord to keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. The phrase first appeared in Deuteronomy 32:10, in a description of the Lord’s care for Israel, and David referred back to this picture of protection.

The use of apple in the phrase is an English addition. The original Hebrew means something like the little man of the eye, referring to the reflection of yourself in someone else’s pupil. This requires focus and attention on the part of the listener. You exist square in the middle of their eyes, no flitting around and no gazing in the distance.

Square in the middle of God’s eye. Sort of intimidating. On the other hand, living as the apple of God’s eye feels remarkable, ridiculous even. That’s the point David makes—God’s love for us is ridiculous—and we should appeal for more.

Bask in that for awhile.

Psalm 17 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Paolo Bendandi

Don’t you love it when someone responds to you personally?

After a hard day of travel, I hustled into a Chik-fil-A minutes before closing. I enjoyed my sandwich, then craved a chocolate milkshake. As employees mopped the dining room and stacked chairs, I approached the teenager at the counter. Gazing at brightly cleaned equipment I tentatively asked, You wouldn’t be able to still make me a chocolate shake, would you? The young man paused, I assumed to deliver bad news. Instead he gleefully replied, Make you a chocolate shake—why wouldn’t we make you a chocolate shake? Then he boomed to the back, Chocolate shake! The echo returned, Chocolate shake! Shake-machine-cleaning be damned. I felt like the king of Spain.

God knew Gideon needed a personal touch when setting out to liberate his people from their harsh overlords. So on top of an angel and a fleece, the Lord arranged a field trip on the eve of battle.

During the night God said to Gideon, If you are afraid to attack, go down to the camp with your servant Purah and listen to what they are saying. Afterward, you will be encouraged to attack the camp.

Just the right touch, sending Gideon under cover and assigning a friend as company. Deeply moved by what he heard in the camp, Gideon bowed and worshipped. That very night the Lord provided a massive victory and destroyed the enemies of Israel.

Gideon’s tentative nature slowed him down. Without waiting on a request, the Lord provided a new fleece-like experience. Gideon did his part—it still took a ton of faith to tip-toe into a campground filled with men looking to kill him.

Like Gideon, I’m slow on the uptake in the arena of faith. It’s nice to know the Lord leads us, personalizing challenges to step into and building toward deeper tests beyond. I love the way the Lord brought Gideon along, knowing that God works the same with you and me today.

As Gideon gratefully reflected on Israel’s deliverance, I imagine he caught a faint whisper of My Pleasure somewhere among the clouds.

Judges 7 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

What comes to mind when you hear the term pleasant places? I think of a comfortable swing on a shady porch in the summer, iced tea in hand.

The psalmist wrote glowingly of the Lord’s goodness. Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.

The passage reads from a settled place. The author (maybe David?) writes of prosperity and peace. False gods pushed aside, the psalmist keeps his eyes always on the Lord.

The psalm reminds me of the Lord’s goodness on two levels. One, the Lord grants me kindness in the things he gives me and places he puts me. I enjoy a pleasant home and a life of peace. I write from a place of security, not a given in this world.

Then further in exists an infinitely better gift—the Lord himself—the Giver behind all gifts. To fall within his boundary lines makes for the ultimate inheritance. The Lord becomes our delight, magnifying for eternity the pleasant places within his boundaries.

I love the promise revealed in the psalmist’s closing words: You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Lord, may this be true of us.

Psalm 16 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by Annie Spratt