Have you stood in the footsteps of this unknown, unnamed
Canaanite mother, begging, pleading to God, only to have it feel like God is
against you? Perhaps not so much with a child who has a demon, but perhaps one
who is critically ill, or your spouse, or a parent; perhaps it was your own
self with a heavy diagnosis or even fighting for your life; perhaps you were
the most recent round of layoffs or outright fired unexpectedly. Whatever it
was, your world was rocked, turned upside down, inside out, and every which way
but loose. As a child of God, you know – as the hymn says – to take it to the
Lord in prayer. You practically wore out the knees in your pants and put bald
spots in the carpet from where you knelt at night beside your bed, you wore the
finish off the chair at your dining room table where you sat, Bible in front of
you, calling God’s name, seeking help, praying for an answer. You prayed,
invoked, cried out, wept, sought an answer, yearning for just a word of hope,
encouragement, asking for the Lord’s hands to be gracious and merciful to you,
your family, your loved one, and instead you get a hand held up: Stop.
That doesn’t make sense, does it? We think of Jesus’ hands
and the many, many times they were extended in mercy and compassion. Just a few
weeks ago, we read about Him having compassion on a hungry crowd and feeding
them, those hands breaking and blessing bread and fish to feed 5000 plus
people. Last Sunday, we read of Jesus’ hand dipping into the wind-tossed waters
to rescue a sinking, drowning, faith-shaken disciple who only a moment earlier
asked to come out to Jesus on those same waters. We think of His hands held in
blessing even as He is ascending into heaven, hands delivering words of
encouragement and hope to seeing-yet-not-understanding disciples. We think of
these moments, moments that show us love that is without end, mercy without
extinction, compassion without limits. If He has compassion - even over His
enemies while being crucified!!! – why is His hand held against me?
People sometimes speak about the silence of God, and how terrifying that can be. True. I’ve been there. But even harder is when it seems God isn’t merely silent, but actually standing against you.
Just consider this Canaanite mother. Although she is outside
the family of Abraham, she comes to Jesus with the prayer of faith used by
God’s people for millennia: “Have mercy on me.” Her request is actually not for
her, but for her demon-possessed daughter. Surely, the mother understandably
thinks, this Jesus who has been merciful in healing others, would also be
merciful to my own child! Yet, Jesus is silent. The disciples shoo her away
like a mutt sniffing at ankles, and it seems that even Jesus is agreeing. “I
was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” He answers – and,
notice, He is speaking to the disciples, not the woman! If it were in our
modern culture, I could see Him nodding and throwing His shoulders up and
adding, “What can I do?” Refusing to take silence for an answer, she rushes
around, gets in front of Jesus, and falls to her knees, pleading for a
favorable answer for her daughter: Lord, help me. This time, she is flatly and
directly dismissed by Jesus Himself. “It is not right to take the children’s
bread and throw it to the dogs.” Don’t
think Jesus is calling her an unflattering name. He’s using a powerful image to
describe her place as a Canannite, as a woman, as someone who is outside the
family of the children of Israel. Regardless how it’s intended, it’s as if his
hand is held up – Stop! This isn’t for you! Think of how I treat my dog when
she wants the pizza crust, and you get the idea.
So, what does faith do when the object of faith – Jesus –
seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect, so opposite of
what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it seems Jesus is
being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God?
The book of Hebrews defines faith as, “The substance of
things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.” We speak of faith in two
ways: a noun, the Christian faith, the objective and unchanging truth of
Scripture as we summarize in the Creeds; and a Christian’s faith, the verb, the
subjective believing of what the Scriptures say which, at times, ebbs and
flows, hot and cold. In both aspects, the Christian faith and a Christian’s
faith, faith rests in the invisible working of God for our salvation and the
culmination of all things in the person and work of Jesus. Thus, the substance
of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. That is the challenge of Christianity; that is
the challenge of the Christian faith.
While both the Christian faith and the Christian’s faith
rest in the invisible, the Invisible is the very promises of God, all which are
found in fulfillment in Christ Jesus. And Jesus is not a figment of the
imagination, a will o’ the whisp idea that someone came up with. He is God’s
Son who entered into time and took on human flesh to dwell among us. According
to His human flesh, He experienced everything you and I know including – back
to our theme today – including when He prayed that, if possible, His upcoming
cup of suffering might be taken away and His own Father seemed to say, “No;
stop; away from Me, dear Son. Away…away…away!!!” A short time later, Jesus
cried out to the Father, “Why have you forsaken me?” Where was the still, small
voice that spoke to Elijah or the voice that thundered on Sinai? Of all, Jesus
should have been heard in His holiness and purity!
This was for you. He not only died the sinner’s death,
completely contaminated with our sins, He also endured the silence of God, the
separation from the Father on your behalf, suffering hell on earth for you. For
three days, the silence of God echoed from heaven to earth. The morning of the
Resurrection, the silence was broken by the angel’s proclamation, “He is not
here; He is risen as He said.” That declaration stands as evidence that the
Father accepted His Son’s death for us, assuring the our sins are forgiven and
uniting us with the Father through Christ Jesus. That union, then, means that
the Father will never turn His back on us and the Son’s nail-marked hands are
never held against us.
This is most certainly true. Yet, there are those moments in
life when it seems as though God is silent, as if Jesus’ hands are held out
against us. So, the question remains: what does faith do when the object of
faith – Jesus – seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect,
so opposite of what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it
seems Jesus is being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God? “It’s not right
to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”
I like the way the poet, Jan Richardson [1], helps us
understand how faith doggedly clings to the promises of God, even when it seems
the hands of the Lord are held out against us.
Stubborn Blessing
Don’t tell me no.
I have seen you
feed the thousands,
seen miracles spill
from your hands
like water, like wine,
seen you with circles
and circles of crowds
pressed around you
and not one soul
turned away.
Don’t start with me.
I am saying
you can close the door
but I will keep knocking.
You can go silent
but I will keep shouting.
You can tighten the circle
but I will trace a bigger one
around you,
around the life of my child
who will tell you
no one surpasses a mother
for stubbornness.
I am saying
I know what you
can do with crumbs
and I am claiming mine,
every morsel and scrap
you have up your sleeve.
Unclench your hand,
your heart.
Let the scraps fall
like manna,
like mercy
for the life
of my child,
the life of
the world.
Don’t you tell me no.
Don’t misread this: yes, the woman wanted her daughter to be
healed, but more than that, she was willing to sit at the base of the table and
receive whatever little bits of grace the Lord has to offer her. Her faith was
great. It was not great because the woman thought she could wear Jesus down by
nagging Him enough, or if she used the right words, or if she could just pull
hard enough at His heart strings. Her faith rested in who she knew who Jesus is
– even when it seemed His hands were held out against her. She knew Him to be
both Lord and Son of David. He was Israel’s Messiah who comes with such
abundance that there were leftovers for someone like her, a woman from Canaan.
And, out of His great generosity, His mercy overflows outward from Israel to
her, a Canaanite woman who knew she deserved nothing except by God’s grace
which made her welcome at the table of Jesus.
By grace, through faith in Christ, Jesus’ hand that seemed
to be held up saying, “No, I don’t think so,” becomes a hand that is held up in
blessing. The hidden mercy of Christ is revealed. Baptized into Christ, we are
welcomed to the table, no longer dogs worthy of just the scraps but of the
finest of bread and wine, the rich fulness of Christ’s body and blood. In
answer to your prayer, “Lord have mercy on me,” here, the Son of David welcomes
you, not as dogs, but as Sons and Daughters of the King: come and eat. The
table is prepared.
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