Author: Dave Dishman (Page 358 of 475)

A few summers ago a large aspen tree fell during a storm, crashing across a wooden fence and into our neighbor’s yard. I learned about the incident while on a trip to South Africa. Fortunately, two of my neighbors (one who owned a chainsaw), along with my son, cut up the tree and hauled it off. I benefited from a generous pair of neighbors (and a hard-working son).

Love does no harm to a neighbor (Romans 13:10).

Paul references both the words of Jesus and the book of Leviticus. I understand his thought in two ways. As a loving person, I simply avoid harming my neighbor. Or, in a slightly different take, I can’t go wrong by loving my neighbor. I create good will and better relationships.

After the tree affair, I flew home with fresh appreciation and good will toward my neighbors.

A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed (Proverbs 11:25).

Thinking of neighbors, my acts that bring refreshment to them will return to me in refreshing ways. I prosper by cultivating generosity in my neighborhood.

Living among others—my neighbors—creates the laboratory where my faith either proves itself worthy, or deflates into hypocrisy.

My neighbors see my flaws from right across the lawn, and for the most part extend me grace. I hope I show them the same generosity. And when their tree comes down in a storm, I’ll get my gloves and go to work.

Week twenty-three of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Terra Strickland

Perhaps visiting cemeteries over the past week brought this passage more to my eye this morning:

Lord, what are human beings that you care for them, mere mortals that you think of them? They are like a breath; their days are like a fleeting shadow.

Take a deep breath. Let it out. That’s your life. Humbling, isn’t it?

I walk through a cemetery and think about all the past lives represented there—people’s hopes and dreams, good decisions and bad ones, marriages and divorces, triumphs and tragedies. But I recognize only a handful of names out of thousands. Their lives are gone, like fleeting shadows.

David, the author of this psalm, lived a long and notable life, yet even he understood that life passes like a breath.

The wonder of this psalm focuses on the fact that despite our shadow-nature, the Lord enters our lives. He delivers us and cares for us, and gives us all we hold dearly. David underscores our incredible privilege as the focus of the Lord’s goodness.

As a fleeting shadow, I’ll rest a bit in that good news.

Psalm 144 in week twenty-three of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Matthew Ansley

Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it (Proverbs 3:27).

Solomon, the wisest of all people in the history of all peoples, wrote down many of his most thoughtful sayings in the book of Proverbs. I find them as challenging and applicable to the way I live as any modern philosophical opinion.

For instance, I usually think of a sinful act as something that I choose to do. I might decide to lie to my wife, or short the tax man, or yell at a stranger who cuts across my path. Sins of commission—ways I’ve acted or thought that displease the Lord and violate His scriptures—rear up daily for me. But Solomon’s not addressing those types of sin here.

The man of wisdom points out that I also hurt others by doing nothing, by choosing not to notice, by averting my eyes. Instead of moving toward a person who needs help, I hang back, usually due to excuses about time or getting involved or being misunderstood. These reflect sins of omission—failures to act.

Mostly, no one else knows notices when I’ve withheld good from someone else. A sly sinner, I glide through life with my head down, minding my own business. Like the religious folks in the story Jesus told about the Good Samaritan, I tend to cross the road to avoid the hassle, rather than kneel down and see if I can help.

This dichotomy requires a new set of lenses to see the world. For me, at my stage and place in life, while I hope to help people flourish and grow, I’m tempted to hold back. It’s easier to stay in my lane—fewer hassles, less misunderstandings, no accusations. But I possess power to do good, and I’m not looking to withhold it.

Maybe you’re like me, wondering what the Lord has in mind for you in light of this verse? In a world filled with needs, it’s hard to know where to start. Join me as I pray for wisdom and clarity in directing the little bit of good I possess toward those in my path.

Proverbs 3 in week twenty-three of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Josh Calabrese

In his letter to the Roman church, Paul wrote several lines I cling to during times of struggle—words held close ever since Paul’s letter first echoed across that group of original Jesus followers.

Paul first asks, Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?

Then he answers with a list of items that cannot separate us: tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword, death, life, angels, rulers, things present, things to come, powers, height, depth, or anything else in all creation.

Pretty exhaustive list, none of which separates us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Paul, the theologian, never shied away from specific instructions and details. He could argue minutiae with anyone. But in this case he’s broad – nothing in all creation can separate a follower of Jesus from the love of Christ.

But notice Paul’s specificity. He mentioned God’s elect. A distinct group of people. Then he reminds his readers of the importance of Christ Jesus our Lord. Paul referred to those who choose to follow Jesus, who made Jesus their Lord. His promise didn’t extend to those who reject Jesus or only merely dabble with religion.

Broad on the hopeful message, specific to whom it applies. Paul left little to doubt.

And doubtless this passage will be read, and prayed over, and memorized until Jesus finally returns and removes any question of separation ever again.

Romans 8:35-39 in week twenty-two of reading the Bible cover to cover

Photo by Simon Rae