Author: Dave Dishman (Page 330 of 459)

Jesus talked about the kingdom of heaven in surprising ways. The kingdom animates lives, it unearths treasures, and on a somber note, the kingdom of heaven divides.

Not everyone who hears of the kingdom understands. Some eagerly embrace the kingdom, but allow the issues of life to choke out growth. Sinisterly, a few actively revile the kingdom’s work on this earth. Twice, Jesus points out that those opposed to the kingdom of heaven face a fiery furnace, a place of weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Thankfully, Jesus reveals a wonderful alternative to gnashing, one starting in this world and extending into the next. When the kingdom roots in good soil, bountiful growth results. Like leaven in dough, only a sprinkle of the kingdom swells to consume your entire life. The kingdom grows into a lush garden, blessing all around.

The kingdom of heaven carries value beyond our calculations. In fact, its worth exceeds everything even the most wealthy might possess. Twice Jesus describes men gleefully selling all they have in order to possess such a treasure.

Jesus asked his disciples, Have you understood all these things? Yes, they answered. Then he said, Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.

The scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven sounds like those of us who claim to follow Jesus. If that’s the case, then I’m commissioned to help others discover the value of this kingdom, to hold it in their hands and gauge its heft.

Picture acres and acres of botanical gardens filled with the most beautiful flowers and magnificent creatures, criss-crossed with pathways of gold and silver and lustrous pearls. Then, just for fun, add kiosks of freshly baking bread (with butter, of course) to enjoy while strolling the grounds.

Jesus used such metaphors to point our eyes toward the kingdom of heaven, an unsurpassed garden free and open to the public.

Matthew 13 in week thirty-one of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Maria Hada

A short time after impressing upon his disciples the difficult and challenging path of following in his way, using phrases like, I have not come to bring peace, but a sword, and whoever does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me, Jesus adds a new metaphor—that of the yoke.

Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

The yoke. Jesus brings a sword, then Jesus asks those who follow him to take up a cross, and finally he offers his yoke. Not exactly an irresistible plan for a “me day,” or a life focused on myself.

The yoke. An instrument used to control oxen and mules and horses. A collar to use the strength of these powerful beasts to pull a plow, or haul freight, or charge in front of a chariot into battle.

The animal under yoke is not controlling the situation, but rather submits to the driver. I think this is the first point Jesus makes. Submission to Jesus means voluntarily placing his yoke around my neck. Let’s face it—that sounds hard and not terribly pleasant.

The second aspect that strikes me is the realization that I take on other yokes all the time: a yoke of responsibility, a yoke of respect, a yoke of pleasure, a yoke of success, a yoke of looking good to others. Anything that controls me and directs me to pull in its direction throws a yoke across my neck. Jesus encourages me to take all those yokes off and replace them with one light and airy yoke—his.

Rest for my soul. I’d like to pull in that direction for a while.

Matthew 11 in week thirty-one of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Varun Verma

Cows formed a sort of backdrop to my life growing up. I helped my grandpa with his cattle occasionally, various uncles and aunts and cousins either milked cattle or raised beef cattle, and my parents even owned cattle for a brief period when I was a kid. I liked being around the cows.

Hills formed the literal backdrop to my life. I grew up in the Ozark mountains in the middle of hills, like water surrounding a fish. My neighborhood sat on the side of a hill. A friend’s house was either uphill or downhill. I walked to school—uphill—but glided downhill on the way home. A bike proved a liability at times, fun on the way down, but required a lot of pushing on the way up.

After college I moved to Manhattan, Kansas, in the middle of the Flint Hills. More hills and more cattle. I loved it.

So when I read this description of the Lord’s resources, I resonate:

For every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills.

I find comfort in the Lord’s cattle. They signify His sovereignty, and the reality that God controls the world, not us. They portray his wisdom and abundance as they mosey through the fields.

So, on your road-trip this summer, gazing out the window, I encourage you to enjoy the cattle, and remember the good hand of the Lord.

Psalm 50 in week thirty of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Daniel Quiceno

Jesus saves—and Jesus divides.

Matthew records Jesus pointedly instructing his disciples before they spread out to carry news of the Messiah to their countrymen. Instead of handing out cool stickers or clever memes, Jesus cut to the core:

I am sending you out like sheep among wolves…be on your guard…you will be hated by everyone because of me…

Hated because of Jesus?

Then Jesus follows a few counts later with: Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.

A true and accurate understanding of Jesus calls for a decision, and decisions divide. As a young man, I made a decision to attend the University of Missouri, instantly dividing me from those poor, lost souls who attended the University of Kansas, most to be pitied. But I digress.

Choosing to follow Jesus divides you and me from those who consider Jesus and then reject him. In years spent trying to help people decide about Jesus, I appreciated anyone willing to take a long, hard look at his words and their implications. Especially at the hard passages like this one—whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

What I see today is the tendency to reject Jesus because of the actions, or perceived actions, of those who grab the name of Jesus and paste it on their pet enterprise. Whether it’s nationalism, or culturally-approved interpretations of biblical moral codes, or healing oils—graffitiing Jesus across your banner profits the cause.

But it buries the real Jesus under piles of cultural trash.

Better to dig through the detritus of culture and religion, uncover passages like this one, and then decide which side of the divide I fall on.

Matthew 10 in week thirty of reading the Bible cover to cover

Sign above found at the Denver Rescue Mission—a group worthy of support