Matthew 15:21-28
There is a practical lesson in Christ's way of mercy toward this woman, as well as a secret in her lowly, uncomplaining, assumption of the place that belonged to her, that many a heart, that is seeking for help in. Jesus, needs to know.
The soul that knows and owns its wretchedness, and makes no pretension to any claim, yet brings its misery be-fore a God of goodness, is a soul that Jesus can never refuse to comfort: He may be repelled by the claims of a false and pretended righteousness; but He cannot hide Himself from the misery that seeks His aid, and has no plea nor appeal except for mercy's ear. For mercy dwells, as in its proper fountain, in the heart of God; and Jesus is both the expression of that mercy, and the channel through which it flows.
Blessed Lord! He can dismiss from His presence a company of proud Pharisees, who find fault with His ways of grace, with the stern rebuke, " Go ye and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice; " and can say to a poor outcast Gentile, that pretends to receive nothing from Him but what goodness can give to a dog, " O woman, great is thy faith, be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Misery thus owned and felt, and making its appeal to sovereign mercy', reaches at once the eternal spring of goodness.
This woman was of the outcast nations of Canaan, (dwelling in the regions of Tire and Sidon, proverbial for their wickedness,)-a mere sinner of the Gentiles-an " alien from the commonwealth of Israel, and a stranger to the covenants of promise." Her misery had drawn her to Christ for help, and her heart had entire confidence in His power. Still, at her first, and even second, appeal, she meets only with a repulse. She said, " Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David."-"But he answered her not a word."
The " Son of David " was a title that indeed belonged to Christ, but it was as the Messiah of the Jews; and this woman was not a Jew. A Canaanite had nothing to do with "the Son of David." She was a Gentile, and she must take the outcast Gentile's place, relinquishing the ground of Jewish promises, to which she had no claim. The disciples would have got rid of her at any rate-for her misery could not be repulsed—but man's thoughts are not to set aside the order and the covenants of God. Therefore Jesus answered them, " I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." This but brings the woman nearer to Christ, with the more touching expression of her sorrow, " Lord, help me!" But no! she must go lower yet. She was an outcast Gentile; Israel's covenanted mercies did not reach her case; and she must hear the word from Christ, " It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to the dogs."
This was a terrible word to fall on her ear. But it was true. And until our hearts have learned to submit to this, we have not reached the place to which sin has brought us in the presence of God; nor are we on that ground of rest, (even if believers,) that nothing can shake or disturb. It is indeed a terrible thing to feel one's ruin in the presence of God, and to know that His mercy is our only resource, and, at the same moment, to be obliged to own that we have not the least claim to the exercise of that mercy. But this is the truth of our case; and the Lord's dealing with this woman illustrates it in the plainest way.
She had no claim to the promises, and therefore could not plead them. She was not a child, and therefore could not claim the children's portion. She was, in truth, a Gentile dog-and she could only have a dog's portion. In the presence of God, even when suing for mercy, we must indeed take the place that belongs to us. This poor woman does so. She does not refuse the place that belongs to her, however low and degraded it may be. But, oh, there is a reality in her dealing with the Lord that nothing can set aside. She meets the reply of Christ, by taking the dog's place; and answers, " Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their master's table."
She owns God's sovereign right to choose a people, if He pleases. She acknowledges that she is not one of them, and that she has no right to the children's portion. But, at the same time, she casts herself on that sovereign goodness, to which she can make no claim, and is content with what, in its sovereign exercise, it can bestow on a dog.
The apparent harshness of Christ in refusing to meet her appeal on ground that did not belong to her, only drew her soul to where mercy could flow without a bar. When she lets go the title of "Son of David," which a Gentile could not use; when she owns that she has no title to the children's bread; when she asks only for the mercy that the God of goodness can show to a dog, she finds that her apprehensions of His goodness are more than confirmed by Christ, and that she has reached a fountain that rises above every thought and desire of her heart.