At the Feet of Mercy
Mark 7:24-37
24 From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice,25 but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet.26 Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter.27 He said to her, "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."28 But she answered him, "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."29 Then he said to her, "For saying that, you may go--the demon has left your daughter."30 So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.31 Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis.32 They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him.33 He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue.34 Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened."35 And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.36 Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.37 They were astounded beyond measure, saying, "He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak."
--------------------
I'd never noticed before that Jesus sighed in this passage. I take comfort in that. Isn’t it interesting that He weeps just before bringing Lazarus back to life, and, here, He sighs before unstopping the ears of the deaf man, and making this mute speak. It's as if His divine power stops short of sparing Him human feelings of grief, weariness and disappointment. In Him, we truly have a Lord who understands us. Completely. Compassionately.
And, what’s more? I’ve heard it pointed out that not only is He fully human, but also fully divine… and that makes all the difference. Because, He can sigh and weep right along with us -- and then do something that would be impossible for us to do; something that we couldn't imagine; something that would astound us beyond measure. Like make the deaf hear, and the blind see, and the lame leap and demons disappear.
I am struck by this story of the Syrophoenician woman. I take comfort in the story of the Syrophoenician woman because I identify with her. And, in spite of a unpromising beginning, her story ends well because of Jesus Christ, to whom she wisely and determinedly turns, bowing down at His feet.
Like this woman, I know where to turn. I know whom to call upon. And, like this woman, I am not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under His table. So, I wouldn't even make that argument. She knows her place, she doesn't try to argue a higher claim to His power. "Yes," she says, "you're right about who I am. I come to you anyway. Because even the crumbs from your table are better than a full meal anywhere else." She's right. Without any effort, the Lord cures her daughter. In the end, He is merciful to her, a woman who has no claims or no right to His power.
Even when He wants to be left alone.
Even when she's intruding on His intended break from His ministry.
She encounters Jesus Christ in Tyre of all places, her place of origin. This is the place against which God proclaims terrible judgment: “Thus says the Lord: Se, I am against you, O Tyre…I will bring you to a dreadful end and you shall be no more; though sought for you will never be found again.” (Ezekiel 26:3, 21).
Lord have mercy!
This is the place where this woman seeks the Son of God, Jesus, and finds Him! And finds mercy. There is something ironic -- and significant, I think -- about the fact that it is a woman from this region whose appeal causes Jesus to reverse His initial judgment...towards mercy. Imagine that. This Gentile, accursed woman, with not a whit of entitlement to her name -- this is the one whom the Lord listens to, and grants her request even when He wants to be left alone! The Lord hears her out, in spite of who she is, and in spite of where she is from.
Says a lot about Jesus, my Lord. All of which gives me hope.
Reaffirms my faith in Him and my trust in Him.
He can be counted on even when I'm having a bad day. His mercy and His power are available to those who seek Him. He listens, He heals, He saves, He has compassion -- not because of any self-worth I bring, or any claims I may have, but because that's just who He is. He hears the cries of people. He can't help Himself, even when He's not particularly in the mood.
So, now, resurrected Lord of lords, at the right hand of the Father, my advocate in Heaven, probably far removed from some of the human frailty that burdned Him here...well, gosh, I must be in good hands, if I'd just give myself over to Him, in spite of who I am, fully aware of who I am, but coming to Him anyway.
Because even His crumbs are better than a feast at another table. I can only imagine that I would be astounded beyond measure.
Like me, can any of you identify with the Syrophoenician woman? You know yourself; you know you cannot claim any privilege or rights before Him who is faultless and pure and divine? I know I am not worthy to sit at His table. But, I also know my Lord. And, knowing Him, I know I can approach Him. This woman didn't even know Him. And, still He heard her out, and proved Himself to be merciful. So, if you don’t know Him, I say this: Go to Him anyway. He is faithful and compassionate and almighty. You will find Him so. It is His nature to always have mercy, and He has the power to act on that mercy.
It's who He is. I can come to Him. In spite of who I am.
So can you.
Hallelujah!
24 From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice,25 but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet.26 Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter.27 He said to her, "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."28 But she answered him, "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."29 Then he said to her, "For saying that, you may go--the demon has left your daughter."30 So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.31 Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis.32 They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him.33 He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue.34 Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened."35 And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.36 Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it.37 They were astounded beyond measure, saying, "He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak."
--------------------
I'd never noticed before that Jesus sighed in this passage. I take comfort in that. Isn’t it interesting that He weeps just before bringing Lazarus back to life, and, here, He sighs before unstopping the ears of the deaf man, and making this mute speak. It's as if His divine power stops short of sparing Him human feelings of grief, weariness and disappointment. In Him, we truly have a Lord who understands us. Completely. Compassionately.
And, what’s more? I’ve heard it pointed out that not only is He fully human, but also fully divine… and that makes all the difference. Because, He can sigh and weep right along with us -- and then do something that would be impossible for us to do; something that we couldn't imagine; something that would astound us beyond measure. Like make the deaf hear, and the blind see, and the lame leap and demons disappear.
I am struck by this story of the Syrophoenician woman. I take comfort in the story of the Syrophoenician woman because I identify with her. And, in spite of a unpromising beginning, her story ends well because of Jesus Christ, to whom she wisely and determinedly turns, bowing down at His feet.
Like this woman, I know where to turn. I know whom to call upon. And, like this woman, I am not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under His table. So, I wouldn't even make that argument. She knows her place, she doesn't try to argue a higher claim to His power. "Yes," she says, "you're right about who I am. I come to you anyway. Because even the crumbs from your table are better than a full meal anywhere else." She's right. Without any effort, the Lord cures her daughter. In the end, He is merciful to her, a woman who has no claims or no right to His power.
Even when He wants to be left alone.
Even when she's intruding on His intended break from His ministry.
She encounters Jesus Christ in Tyre of all places, her place of origin. This is the place against which God proclaims terrible judgment: “Thus says the Lord: Se, I am against you, O Tyre…I will bring you to a dreadful end and you shall be no more; though sought for you will never be found again.” (Ezekiel 26:3, 21).
Lord have mercy!
This is the place where this woman seeks the Son of God, Jesus, and finds Him! And finds mercy. There is something ironic -- and significant, I think -- about the fact that it is a woman from this region whose appeal causes Jesus to reverse His initial judgment...towards mercy. Imagine that. This Gentile, accursed woman, with not a whit of entitlement to her name -- this is the one whom the Lord listens to, and grants her request even when He wants to be left alone! The Lord hears her out, in spite of who she is, and in spite of where she is from.
Says a lot about Jesus, my Lord. All of which gives me hope.
Reaffirms my faith in Him and my trust in Him.
He can be counted on even when I'm having a bad day. His mercy and His power are available to those who seek Him. He listens, He heals, He saves, He has compassion -- not because of any self-worth I bring, or any claims I may have, but because that's just who He is. He hears the cries of people. He can't help Himself, even when He's not particularly in the mood.
So, now, resurrected Lord of lords, at the right hand of the Father, my advocate in Heaven, probably far removed from some of the human frailty that burdned Him here...well, gosh, I must be in good hands, if I'd just give myself over to Him, in spite of who I am, fully aware of who I am, but coming to Him anyway.
Because even His crumbs are better than a feast at another table. I can only imagine that I would be astounded beyond measure.
Like me, can any of you identify with the Syrophoenician woman? You know yourself; you know you cannot claim any privilege or rights before Him who is faultless and pure and divine? I know I am not worthy to sit at His table. But, I also know my Lord. And, knowing Him, I know I can approach Him. This woman didn't even know Him. And, still He heard her out, and proved Himself to be merciful. So, if you don’t know Him, I say this: Go to Him anyway. He is faithful and compassionate and almighty. You will find Him so. It is His nature to always have mercy, and He has the power to act on that mercy.
It's who He is. I can come to Him. In spite of who I am.
So can you.
Hallelujah!
posted by Ruth at 4:25 AM
1 comments
