nChrist
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« on: January 20, 2017, 09:02:49 PM » |
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A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to Him, crying out, "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession." Jesus did not answer her a word! So His disciples came to Him and urged Him, "Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel." The woman came and knelt before Him. "Lord, help me!" she said. He replied, "It is not right to take the children's bread - and toss it to their dogs!" Matthew 15:22-26
Usually, Jesus was quick to answer cries for His help. No mother's heart ever waked so easily to her child's calls - as the heart of Christ waked to the calls of human distress! But once at least, He was silent to a very bitter cry. It was over in the edge of a heathen country. The story begins by saying that He went into a house and wanted nobody to know that He was there. He desired a little time of quiet. Even Jesus needed sometimes to rest. But He could not be hidden.
An Indian legend tells of a sorcerer who sought to hide the sun, moon, and stars in three great chests - but failed in his effort. One cannot hide light - it reveals itself by its beams. One cannot hide fragrant flowers - their perfume reveals their place of concealment.
There is a kind of wood in China, which, though buried in the earth - yet fills all the air about it with its perfumes. Nor can holy lives be hidden! No matter how modest and shy they are, wherever they go, people know of their presence. There is something in them which always reveals them.
Never was there another such rich, loving, helpful life in this world - as that of Jesus. He was everybody's friend. His heart was full of compassion. His hand was ever stretched out to serve. No wonder He could not be hidden - even in a strange place. Burdened hearts would be drawn to Him - by the very power of His love and sympathy.
A heathen woman heard of Him that day, and came to Him with a pitiful plea. It is worth while to notice, that it was this woman's trouble which sent her to Christ. If all had been sunshine in her house, she would not have gone to seek Him. This is one of the blessings of affliction - it often leads us into experiences of blessing we never would have had - but for our suffering. We never shall know until we have gone to heaven - how much we owe to pain and sorrow. Then we shall see that the long days when we were sick - were days of wondrous divine revealing; that what we called our misfortunes and calamities - were really pieces of shaded path, leading to nobler blessings.
It is interesting to think of the good that has come to the world through the centuries, from the mere telling of the story of this woman's trouble. Other mothers with suffering children have been encouraged to bring their burdens to Christ, as they have read of this mother and her persistent and finally availing plea. Other pleaders at the throne of grace, discouraged for a time - as they have seen this prayer prevail at length, have taken fresh hope. No one can tell what a history of blessing this one fragment of the gospel has left among men. Yet this story never would have been written - but for the pitiful suffering of a little girl.
We do not know what blessing may go out into the world from the anguish in our home, which is so hard for us to endure. Every human pain or sorrow - is intended to make this world a little gentler, sweeter, warmer-hearted. We should never forget that the gospel, which, these nineteen centuries, has been changing the earth from coldness, harshness, cruelty, and barbarism - into love, gentleness, humane feeling, and brotherly kindness, is the story of a sorrow - the sorrow of Calvary. We ought to be willing to endure pain - to make the world more heaven-like.
We are not told anything about this woman, save that she was a woman with a great burden of sorrow. She was a broken-hearted mother, with a demoniac child. But that is enough for us to know. Her sorrow makes her kin to us all. It was not her own trouble, either. She was not sick. Yet hear her cry: "Lord, help me!" She represented a great class of burdened and crushed people, who are bowed down under the maladies or the sins of others. Especially was she the type of many human mothers, whose hearts are broken by the sufferings or by the evil ways of their children. You never enter a sick-room where a child lies in pain, and the mother keeps watch - but the mother is suffering more than the child. There are many parents prematurely stooped and aged - by reason of the burdens they are bearing for or on account of their children.
This mother's persistence in pressing her plea, was very remarkable. When she came first, Jesus "did not answer her a word." He stood silent before her piteous appealing. But she would not be discouraged, and as He walked on and talked with His disciples, she continued following, and beseeching Him to have mercy on her. When the silence was broken at length, it was in words which seemed strangely harsh and insulting, coming from the lips of the Christ. Yet even the offensive words did not chill the ardor of her earnestness. Indeed, she caught at the very offensiveness, seeing hope in them. She was content to be a dog - and to take a dog's portion. Even the crumbs from that table, would abundantly satisfy her.
The woman's prayer and its final answer tell us that we may bring to Christ in our love and faith - those who cannot come to Him themselves. Many of Christ's healings were in answer to the prayers of friends. It is not enough for us to pray for ourselves. That love is not doing its full duty - which does not carry its dear ones to God in supplication.
Then this mother teaches us how to pray not timidly, faintly, and feebly - but with all the earnestness of passionate love, strengthened by overcoming faith. When we are at Christ's feet with our burden, we are before One who can help us whatever our need. We should determine to stay there - until we get our plea. This mother's supplication was as different from many of our tame, mildly-uttered requests which we call prayers - as the storm's wild sweep is different from evening's soft zephyr. Jesus' silence did not discourage her. Jesus' refusal did not check her pleadings. Jesus' reproach had no power to drive her away. Such faith overcomes every obstacle - and wins its way to sublimest victory!
Christ's treatment of this distressed mother, is one of the strangest things in the Bible. It seems at first scarcely consistent with our conception of Christ's character. On nearly all other occasions He answered at once - but now, when the woman came to Him with her broken-hearted supplication, He did not answer her a word. When she continued crying, His only reply was a refusal, on the ground that His mission was not to any but His own people. Then, when she still persisted and cast herself at His feet, looking up appealingly to Him and pleading still for mercy, what was His reply? Not a kindly "no," such as He might have spoken, to make the pain of refusal as little as possible - but words which some haughty Pharisee might have used, calling the sorrowing woman a Gentile dog.
How can this be explained? If we were to hear that some good, generous, kindly Christian man, whom we know, had treated a poor distressed woman in this way, either we would not believe it, or we would say that the man must have been mentally disturbed, that he was not himself that day, because of some secret trouble of his own. Men do such things - they do treat the poor and distressed coldly, rudely, even in these late Christian days - but not men like Jesus. When we think of the character of Jesus - so gracious, so unselfish, so compassionate, and that He was always so ready to help even outcasts - this narrative perplexes us beyond measure.
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