I was a sophomore in college not too many years ago, (you didn't have to laugh so heartily at that point) and it was early in the morning; not many people were up, but I couldn't sleep. And I sat with the little desk light on at my desk with my Bible open. At one point, I had my head down on my Bible, and I was asking this question of the Lord: "Why is my faith so timid? Why is it so weak? Why does it lack courage? I hear the stories of people who do great and courageous things for the Lord, and I don't think that I have any of that.
Lord, Please Help Me
Lord, I think I believe, but there seems to be so much unbelief in me. Moments when it seems like I should exercise the courage of faith, I'm timid and quiet and back away. Lord, please help me." If you had to answer the question, "What are the ingredients of bold and courageous faith" what would you say? Why is it that some people's beliefs seem shaky and timid while others seem strong and courageous? We really do see, this evening, an example of shocking bold faith. It's a very interesting account that we have there, beginning in verse 24 of Mark 7, if you want to turn in your church Bibles, page 843 again.
Now we know that the history of the Gospels is selective. We know that the particular Gospel writers don't, each of them, tell us everything that Jesus did. And we know that there often are gaps of time in between different accounts, different vignettes in the Gospels, although we're not always sure of those and sure how much time is between and what events happened in between. And the position of this particular story of the bold faith of this Gentile woman is very interesting in its contrast to what just went before.
We are hit with, in the previous verses, with the self-righteous, self-assured, self-aggrandizing, legalism of the Pharisees, and their pride that they would not touch anything that was defiled. And yet, in all of their religiosity, in all of their pride, in their behavior and their faith, they lacked true faith. They didn't have any of the ingredients of the faith of this dear woman who lived way outside of the covenant community. This woman's faith is in stark contrast to the disciples whom we saw diagnosed as being dull of understanding and hard of heart, even though they had seen the amazing display of the power of Christ; even though they had heard the depth of His preaching and that announcement of the Gospel of the Kingdom and its call to repent and believe.
Again and again, in moments when they should trust Christ, they questioned Him, wondered if He was there for them, wondered what He would do. And so Mark is making a point here that it's not always those whom you would expect to exercise faith who exercise faith. True faith is found often in unlikely places by unlikely people. And Mark, in a real way, is dismantling the pride of this religious establishment, that for all its religious stands in front of the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of God, and does not recognize who He is, and actually rather than following Him, rather than submitting to Him, rather than worshiping Him, is beginning to plan His demise.
Jesus, you can see there in verse 24, is in the North Country; He's in a Gentile region; He's, once again, attempting to hide Himself, to get away; once again, He cannot get away. This woman follows Him into the house, and she's in a desperate condition. She has a daughter who's possessed by an unclean spirit; her life is taken over by evil. We know that this woman is a Gentile by birth and by culture. And she does something that is shocking. She pushes her way through whatever group is there in the crowd, and she falls down on her knees before Jesus and begs him to cast this demon out of her daughter.
Now, you have to understand that, in that act, this woman is crossing age-old religious, ethnic, social boundaries. If she had done such a thing in front of a Pharisee, he would've wrapped his robes closely around himself lest they touch her, and he would've driven her out of the house. And when you see this act of this dear woman, when you see her courage, when you see her boldness, you have to ask the question: what is it that produces this kind of faith? What is the soil of this kind of response?
Desperation and Hope
And I would argue to you that there are two ingredients to this kind of faith; here they are: desperation and hope. Living faith is deeper than just theological assent; it's deeper than just a collection of knowledge. Faith is rooted in an understanding of the desperateness of one's condition. Isn't it true that it's only those who acknowledge how desperate their need is who ever get excited about God's power, His compassion, His grace? The problem with the Pharisees is they felt no need! And we know this from Luke 18 where the Pharisee is in the Temple and what is he praying?
He's praying, "I thank God that I'm not like other men." He might as well have prayed, "God I just want to announce that I don't need You. I recognize other people do; those poor people need You; I don't." And surely this woman has seen the empirical evidence of how desperate this condition is for her daughter. There's an evil that's overtaken her that's radically altered her life, and this woman has no ability whatsoever to deliver her daughter from that. There's nothing she can do, nothing, nothing, nothing!
And isn't that a picture of all of our condition? We're born with a condition that leads to death, and there is nothing we can do about it. And for all of our desire to tell ourselves that we're righteous, for all of our desire to tell ourselves that we're okay, the truth is that we are in a tragic, desperate condition apart from grace; there is no hope for us! And not only is our condition desperate, but we are utterly unable to alter that condition. And it would be one thing if my problem was the deep dark evil that's everywhere around me in the fallen world, but the greatest evil that takes a hold of me is the evil inside of me.
And so once again, this little miracle-moment presents to us the message of the Gospel. Maybe the first thing that God does in the glory of His constraining grace is open our eyes to, and open our hearts to, the depth of our need. Listen, if you see your condition is desperate and you own yourself as unable, know that grace has visited you. But there's a second thing: faith is the intersection of that kind of desperation and hope. Hope always has an expectation, and hope always has an object. And so true faith not only owns personal desperation, but it owns the reality that hope can only be found in the presence and power and provision of the Messiah, the Lord Jesus.
Somehow, some way, this woman had heard about this One from Nazareth, and there's nothing that could keep her from finding this One. And true hope in Christ will call you to run after Christ. Things won't keep you from Christ. You'll step over all kinds of boundaries because you know that hope can only ever be found in one place: nothing can break the power of evil but King Christ! And when you get there, you don't care what people think about you; you don't care about reputation or image; you don't care about social morals; you don't care about religious constraint; you are going to throw yourself at the feet of Jesus and beg for deliverance.
That's what faith does. And I was thinking as I was looking at this passage and thinking about this dear woman, what Paul says in Colossians 2 to those who already have come to Christ by faith. He says this, "As you received Christ Jesus, so continue to walk in Him." May that desperation and may that hope mobilize us day, after day, after day, after day, because I desperately still need the rescuing work of the Redeemer because that work is not yet complete. I hope, this evening, what brought you into this room was not just religious habit.
I would hope that what brought you into this room was desperation and hope, and you are here with a heart of faith. You're, as it were, in your seat, on your knees, begging once again for the rescuing grace of the Redeemer. Jesus has a surprising response to this woman. He says this, "Let the children be fed first, but it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs." Doesn't sound real compassionate. We've seen, again, this intersection of the power and the compassion of Christ.
Not Being Mean and Harsh
Christ uses, in this point, a familiar term for Gentiles. And yet I don't believe in this moment that Christ is being mean and harsh. He's saying something that is very accurate that is meant to test even further the faith of this woman. He's basically saying, "Woman don't you know that you are outside of the family because you're a Gentile, and you're outside of the people to whom the covenant promises were made? Don't you know that you don't have any claim to the mercy that you're asking?" That was exactly right.
"You don't bring any merit to this moment." You have to love the response of this woman. She says, "Yes, Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." What a humble and remarkable response of faith. Essentially she's saying, "When the provision of the father for his children is so rich that crumbs drop off of the table, the dogs are able to eat at the same time as the children. I would be glad to be a dog and to eat the morsels off the table of this One." What a beautiful response!
Perhaps this is the third ingredient of this bold faith: desperation, hope, and humility. I don't fight the diagnosis inside; I accept that this description really does describe me. I am what Scripture says I am. I own it. Now I have said this to you before; I think it's something we need to recognize. You and I all tend to have very active inner lawyers. We're able, even in preaching, to defend ourselves against the diagnostic of the Word of God. We don't always want to look into the mirror of the Word of God and see ourselves as we actually are.
Maybe as we're listening to preaching, we're more thinking about the person next to us and how much they will benefit from what's being said rather than examining our hearts in the light of Scripture. And this woman has a very, very humble response, "I am what you've called me to be. I am outside of the covenant promises, at this point, as a Gentile. But if in bountiful mercy, your crumbs could drop on me by mercy and grace, I'll take the crumbs; that's how desperate I am!" And listen, the crumbs off the table of the Messiah are more nutrient food than you will find anywhere else in the world.
Jesus responds to her faith and says, "For this statement you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter." She is sent on her way without any empirical evidence, at this point, that her daughter has been delivered. She must, as she marches home, trust the words of the One before whom she bowed that her daughter is delivered, and she was. What's the soil of bold, courageous, life-altering faith? Desperation: an assessment of need and inability. Hope: trust placed in the presence and power and provision of the Messiah, Jesus.
Humility: I don't defend myself against the diagnostic of Scripture. I say, "This is me; and because of this, my only hope is the Messiah." Christ returns then, you see in verse 31, to the region of The Galilee, and they bring to Him a man who's deaf and has a speech impediment. It probably means that he wasn't deaf from birth; he lost his hearing sometime during his life; that's why he's retained some of his speech. And he is brought by others, and they beg Jesus to lay hands on him. There's a very striking miracle at this moment, because, again as Mark has argued particularly with the disciples and the feeding of the 5,000, that there's a parabolic nature to the miracles of Christ.
Fingers in the Ears
The miracles are parables teaching us Gospel truths. And Jesus takes this man aside, and He does something striking. He takes His fingers, and he sticks His fingers into the ears of this man. The next thing Jesus does will unsettle some of you; it will go beyond your sense of decorum; it will make you uncomfortable in the antiseptic culture that we're in. Jesus spits on His hand, and then He places His hand on the tongue of this man, literally the saliva of Christ mixing with the saliva of this man.
Now what is Jesus doing? It's as if, in this moment, Jesus is picturing how His power works. He literally touches this man. He literally invades his dead ears with the life of His fingers. It's the life of Christ touching these dead organs and transforming them to life. It's the life in the spit of Christ touching the tongue of this man, transforming it. Jesus looks up and prays that simple prayer, "Be opened." And his ears are opened and his tongue released. There's a demonstration; there's a metaphor.
Isn't that what Christ does for all of us? He doesn't stand aside and just announce life; He doesn't just preach life; He doesn't predict that life is possible; He doesn't just promise life. He is life; He invades your dead soul with his life-giving Spirit! Paul says, "I have been crucified with Christ and it's no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me." What is the new life that the believer receives? It's Christ! Your hope is this Jesus who doesn't stand apart. As a preacher, I stand apart from you.
I proclaim to you. I hope for you. I plead for you. But I don't invade you; but Jesus does! And when He invades you with His life, you come alive. And a heart that was dead now lives and believes and desires and obeys and worships; all evidences of life. After the miracle, Jesus charges the people that are witnesses, the people that brought this man, the man himself, that they should tell no one. You know, we've seen this theme in Mark; Jesus doesn't want to just be known as the miracle-man, because there's a central mission that He's on.
He's not here just to do miracles; He's here to preach the Gospel of the Kingdom, and the center of that Gospel of the Kingdom won't be a message; it will be a sacrifice, His own sacrifice as the Lamb of God. And so again and again, He tells people to remain quiet. It's also clear that He's not ready for that final collision with the Pharisees because there is more work for Him to do. And yet, these people are not quiet. It's clear they don't misunderstand because it says here that the more He charged them, the more zealously they proclaimed; quite outrageous disobedience.
"And they were astonished beyond measure saying, 'He has done all things well.'" Now, I want to consider, with you just for a minute, the doxology that ends this passage. Maybe this is Mark's way of ending this particular section of Mark. He ends it with this wonderful little doxology that is the testimony of these people: "He has done all things well." What a thing for you to say to yourself over and over again; Jesus does all things well. Jesus does all things well. He lived perfectly. He died sufficiently.
He conquered death. All of His promises are faithful. His power is perfectly expended. Every thought, every desire, every intention of Christ is trustworthy and good. Jesus does all things well. This is your central hope. This is a wonderful doxology for you to repeat to yourself again and again and again. As I've said before, suitable for the refrigerator or the morning mirror: Jesus does all things well because you don't. Your hope is not in your situation. Your hope is not in the ease and predictability of your situation, or your relationships, or your job, or your friendships, or your education, or your personality, or your gifts, or your wisdom.
Jesus Does All Things Well
There is one place where security and life and hope and rest and peace can be found; it is this - Jesus does all things well, and Jesus is my Savior. There's never a bad thing that comes from Him. There's never a questionable thing that comes from Him. He never is prejudiced. He's never worthy of our doubt. He never bends the rules. He never acts in ugly self-interest. He never is disloyal. He never is unfaithful. He never breaks His promises; Jesus does all things well. It's a beautiful doxology, but I want you to notice something: this doxology lives in the same heart as disobedience does in this passage.
It's a scary thing; it's sad, but it's true, that it's possible for doxology and disobedience to exist in the same heart. We should not think because we're able to enunciate an accurate theological doxology that accurately depicts who God is, or who the Father is, or who the Spirit is, or who the Son is, that we're okay. Because here are people who are able to say something that is true, that in ways does picture the hope of the universe, but it's in the context of direct disobedience to the call of Christ.
It is possible for us to sing the doxology that we've sung this evening and sin two minutes later the sin of pride. Or talk to someone afterwards, and they share a particular blessing, and you're covetous of their blessing. Or to sing a hymn to the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and walk out of the room and be less than gracious. Theology and self-rule can live together. Biblical knowledge and worldliness can live together. And so we all must ask: do the doxologies that I speak and sing, live in submission, joyful submission to the Lordship of Jesus Christ?
I would say to you that it's very clear Mark would point to us, again, the radical truth that this Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the Son of God, is our only hope. Jesus does all things well. And the faith that embraces His work is a faith rooted in desperation, need, and inability. It's rooted in hope. It backs away from all the other hopes. It's on, "Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand." And it's humble, not arguing with the Scriptures diagnostics, saying, "Yes, this is who I am, and may Your mercy fall on me."
Jesus is our only hope. He's the hope of one of you in this room who has never yet acknowledged the depth of your need; who may even, in your heart, at this moment, be arguing against the diagnosis; whether you admit it or not, Jesus is your only hope. Come to Him. For those of you who have already placed your trust in Him, He continues to be your only hope; because every day, somehow, you demonstrate your continual need of Him and the inability you have to free yourself from the evil that He conquered on His cross.
Let's pray: Lord, how rich these two moments in the life of Christ depict His identity, His power, His grace. How accurately they depict the depth of our need. How this final moment warns us that we can be of divided heart, and so we have not graduated from our need of Your grace. Feed us from Your table; invade us again with Your life, we would pray. In Jesus's name, Amen.
