Author: Dave Dishman (Page 348 of 475)

The Sons of Korah, writers of Psalm 49, come at us like spider monkeys.

First, they clear up any confusion regarding those who trust in themselves, who enjoy great wealth in this world but lack basic understanding of eternal realities, by pointing out that:

Death will be their shepherd (Psalm 49:14).

Then, if that premonition of a skeletal chaperone isn’t bad enough, the psalmist goes on to remind us that we won’t take any of our splendid possessions with us when we pass on:

Do not be overawed when others grow rich, when the splendor of their houses increases; for they will take nothing with them when they die, their splendor will not descend with them (Psalm 49:16-17).

Which, of course, immediately reminds me of Gary Larson’s Far Side comic showing the panic occurring when someone actually does take their stuff with them.

As I read Psalm 49, another psalm comes to mind, its opening words arising from deep in my soul—The Lord is my shepherd (Psalm 23).

Which leaves me with a better thought—I will happily leave all my stuff behind, as long as I’m walking alongside the Good Shepherd when I step into the next world.

Psalm 49 in week thirty of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Jacob Mejicanos

Jehoram reigned in Jerusalem for eight years, and he did evil in the eyes of the Lord. After Jehoram took over from his father, he consolidated power by killing all his brothers and even some of the officials who faithfully served the previous regime.

Jehoram’s evil turned on him. Invaders attacked Jerusalem and carried off all the treasures in his palace, along with his wives and children.

Since this disaster apparently failed to humble Jehoram, the Lord afflicted him with an incurable disease of the bowels. In the course of time, at the end of the second year, his bowels came out because of the disease, and he died in great pain.

Then this epitaph, recorded forever in the pages of scripture:

He passed away, to no one’s regret.

Good riddance.

These situations come and go throughout history, and I’m not sure how to avoid them. I pray for our leaders. I pray for the process of choosing leaders. I pray for the Lord’s goodness in doing so and when possible, I participate in picking our leaders.

But no guarantees.

As I look at this story and others like it in scripture, one truth is guaranteed and wields hope—the Lord keeps track. An evil leader never escapes justice. In this world, yes, a grandiose life spent tyrannizing others sometimes occurs—but not in the next.

2 Chronicles 21 in week thirty of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Ahmed Adly

The greatest teaching session in history took place on a hillside in Galilee when Jesus gave his Sermon on the Mount. Two thousand years later, many of us thoughtfully relate to these phrases:

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

You are the salt of the earth.

You are the light of the world.

Turn the other cheek.

Love your enemies.

But I find myself skimming over a few other sections:

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

But if salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.

Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Rather than consider these challenging statements, I prefer to think of myself inheriting the earth, or lighting the world. Funny how I can turn this profound teaching towards my own self interest. Seems to miss the point. But not to worry, Jesus smacks me back to reality, leaving no room for smug self-reflection.

Which I believe is—at least—part of the point.

Matthew 5 in week twenty-nine of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo from a hillside on the Camino de Santiago in Galicia, Spain

At first he ignored the spot.

Either his armor rubbed there, or some bug bit him. Naaman, a Syrian general, spent his days on the move. No time to waste on itchy skin.

Oops. The skin rash matured into a dreaded disease—leprosy. No cure and no hope, except for the slave girl in his house who told of a powerful prophet in Israel. Naaman, grasping at a cure, rode to meet Elisha.

When Naaman arrived, trailing his retinue of fighting men, Elisha didn’t even come to the door. He sent his servant to tell Naaman to go dip himself into the Jordan River seven times. Naaman stomped to his chariot in a huff.

Wisely, Naaman’s people coaxed him into giving it a try. What would it hurt? You came all this way? Don’t be so prideful—face it, Naaman, leprosy respects no man and you ain’t looking any better.

So Naaman dipped and dried, seven times. His skin cleared and his heart opened. He drove home proclaiming, there is no God in all the earth but in Israel!

Notice the evolution of Naaman’s faith—from desperation to indignation to resignation to exultation.

I’m encouraged by Naaman’s kernel of faith. He walked into the water (almost dragged in by his servants), with barely enough faith to even get wet. Turns out that’s enough, when your faith is in the right place.

Here in Colorado water freezes in the winter. I can have all the faith in the world that a half-inch of ice will hold me when I walk onto a frozen lake, but I’ll still fall through. But I can be scared to death when edging onto a lake with ice two feet thick, and I’ll still stay dry. In fact, I could drive my car on that lake. It’s not my faith that’s important, it’s the object of my faith.

Naaman discovered the God of Israel, the only God worthy of faith. In doing so, he experienced fresh skin and more importantly—a fresh soul.

2 Kings 5 in week twenty-nine of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Alex Kramarevsky