Author: Dave Dishman (Page 289 of 459)

My friends recently purchased their first home, a fixer-upper, which they’ve been working on and living in. Recently they noticed water damage, leading to the discovery of mold in the ceiling and walls. Mitigation involved cutting out sections of drywall and letting in light and air, carting off the defiled materials to the dump, then replacing everything with fresh drywall, plaster and paint.

Mold proved troublesome for homeowners in ancient times as well. Look at how the Lord instructed the Israelites to deal with this problem:

On the seventh day the priest is to return to inspect the house. If the mold has spread on the walls, he is to order that the contaminated stones be torn out and thrown into an unclean place outside the town. He must have all the inside walls of the house scraped and the material that is scraped off dumped into an unclean place outside the town. Then they are to take other stones to replace these and take new clay and plaster the house.

3,500 years and we still deal with mold in the same way.

My inclination to turn away from the Lord works much like mold. It’s easier, safer and even more popular to slip away from the challenges of loving the Lord with all my heart, mind, soul and strength.

Just like mold, dark things grow in the inner places in my life. I need the Holy Spirit to regularly uncover these spots, to expose them to the light of scripture, and to tear out damaged pieces. The cuts hurt, but only for a short time.

Soul maintenance mirrors home maintenance. Paying attention to small issues, and dealing with them before emerging as major problems requires diligence and an eye toward the long-term.

Same idea with the moldy parts of my life.

Leviticus 14 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by iese kobaladze

Some approach the Bible as a pretty book to decorate a shelf, while others read the Bible as literature (I took such a class once). Many simply comb through for a few verses to bolster arguments about preferred behaviors.

But what if the Scriptures represent a far more mysterious and powerful force?

Do you remember the movie Jumanji? In the story, a pair of children find a long lost game and start to play. Unbeknownst to them, the game comes alive, and once you start playing you cannot stop until the game is finished. Killer spiders invade the house, elephants stampede—mayhem breaks out. All of life changes when the game begins.

That’s the way to read the Scriptures.

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing the soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

Don’t read the Bible only for the literature, and move beyond historical facts. Do more than pluck verses to proof text behavior.

Instead, pray the Lord brings the Scriptures to life. Ask the Holy Spirit to release the latent power of the word of God. Take a risk—open yourself to the great unknown.

Roll the dice. The game awaits.

Hebrews 4 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Jumanji, by Chris Van Allsburg, 1981

Today marks a milestone in our work with two Afghan refugee families—moving into permanent housing.

Dawn and I are only a small part of a wonderful team of people from our church caring for these families. Other team members help with teaching English, shopping for clothes, filling out paperwork, engaging with the myriad of agencies providing aid, and especially needed—driving one of the moms with a painful tooth to the dentist several times.

Yesterday a group of us moved furniture into the apartments. All went well, except for one couch that despite shoving and twisting (but no cursing—this being a church move) failed to clear the elevator. Back to the truck with that beast. Our quick-thinking coordinator then bought a new, smaller couch, which fit perfectly. She possessed the resources to buy the couch thanks to generous donations from our church family. Many, many people undergird this effort.

Today we stock pantries and refrigerators and do a final cleaning. Then we pick up the families and drive them to their new homes. We’ll share a lunch to celebrate, gesturing as best we can along the way (little English spoken by the Afghans, not yet, anyway).

I know these families appreciate our work for them, but I don’t want to put too much of a shine on the situation. Displaced refugees face years of hard work and assimilation into a new, strange culture. Months and months of language study await. They miss their families and homeland which they left under traumatic circumstances.

However, in the midst of all the mess, today remains a day to celebrate.

David spoke of hope during a difficult time in his life: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13).

These young people fled a land of death six months ago and now feed their children in safety. I don’t know their future, just as I don’t know yours or mine, but I do know that today, this day, we’ll experience the goodness of the Lord as we share a meal in their new home.

And that’s enough for now.

If you're interested in reading more about how many refugees fled Afghanistan, here's a good article by George Packer in The Atlantic.

Photo by Robinson Greig

I tend toward quietness in a crowd. Or, to put it another way, I tend to let others speak while I determine the tenor of the conversation. Staying out of controversy interests me more than the attention it brings.

So I slow down as I read this stipulation: If anyone sins because they do not speak up when they hear a public charge to testify regarding something they have seen or learned about, they will be held responsible.

Tucked into instructions regarding offerings for unintentional sins, this teaching smacks of my potential negligence. When I know I should speak up—but it’s easier on me not to—and I turn quietly away, then I’ve committed the sin referred to.

Most of the time it’s wise to hold your tongue. More so today with the social media mob standing ready with pitchforks and torches. But in certain situations, failure to speak is the wrong strategy. Or more to the point—failure to speak offends God and harms your neighbors.

When these situations arise (and we’ll know them because of our temptation toward hiding), truth and justice requires our voice.

Speak up.

Leviticus 5 in reading the Bible cover to cover in 2022

Photo by davide ragusa