"Two Men" by Keith Hewitt
"The Grieving Woman: A Positive Persistence" by Lamar Massingill
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Two Men
by Keith Hewitt
James 2:1-10 (11-13) 14-17
The knock on the door was diffident, so soft it almost lost the competition with the pastor's CD of Hot August Night, cranked up on the church study's CD player -- a device that carried about 1½ channels of sound, with a bass that buzzed like a colony of angry bees when stressed. In fact, it may not have been until the third or fourth knock that the sound actually penetrated his conscious thoughts; he looked at the monitor, hit "Save," and looked up, toward the open door.
The corners of the pastor's mouth turned up, and he stood up. "Good afternoon," he said warmly. "Can I help you?"
"Afternoon," the visitor said amiably. "Are you the pastor here?"
The pastor nodded, his expression pleasant as he gestured to a chair, then sat down, himself. "I am."
The visitor sat down, but didn't relax. "Good. Sorry to bother you, but I need some help, Reverend. I haven't been to church in a really long time. But lately I've been carrying around so many things, and I just needed some help. I was walking by here, today, and something told me to stop in."
The pastor nodded, eyebrows furrowed sympathetically. "It's interesting how and when God chooses to speak to us, sometimes. But I've always found that he never sends us off in the wrong direction."
"Tell me, Reverend, do you think it's possible to actually hear God's voice?"
"I do," the pastor answered at once. "I think he talks to us every day, in a million different ways. That voice, that yearning to be whole and at peace -- that's God calling."
The visitor nodded, frowning. "I haven't listened well, Reverend. I need to find my way back. Can you help me?
The pastor smiled. "You'll find us a very welcoming, very active church. We have Bible studies every week, a special praise service every month, and the warmest, most loving people you'll ever find."
The visitor looked thoughtful. "It sounds wonderful -- but I think about what I've done..." He trailed off.
The pastor rocked forward and touched his arm lightly. "God loves you, no matter what you've done. That's the first thing you need to know. We're here to help you understand that -- help you believe that."
"You really think so?" the visitor asked hopefully.
The pastor smiled. "I know so. Just come to church Sunday, and see for yourself. Meet the people, check out the things we do -- I think you'll find yourself at home."
The visitor hung his head, eyes closed, and seemed to be crying softly. "It's been so long," he murmured.
The pastor paused for a moment or two, then reached out once more and grasped his hand, lowered his own head and prayed softly, for both of them.
The pastor's eyebrows arched slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his stomach. "Good afternoon," he said.
"Afternoon," the visitor mumbled. "Are you the pastor here?"
The pastor nodded, cast a glance at his the unfinished sermon on the monitor, then back to him. "I am."
The visitor shuffled uneasily from one foot to the other, and nodded several times before rumbling, "Good. Sorry to bother you, but I need help, Reverend. I haven't been to church in a long time. I've been carrying a lot of stuff inside, and I need help. I was walking by the church, and something in my head said to stop."
The pastor nodded, eyes narrowing. "Tell me, Friend, was this an actual voice? Sure, God speaks to us in different ways," he said hastily, "but we want to be sure what we're dealing with, here."
"What do you mean, Reverend? Don't you think God can talk to me?"
"I just think we need to be careful about what we really hear, and what might be... something else... talking to us," he answered carefully. "You know what I mean," he added, unsure the visitor did.
The visitor's face twisted into a frown. "I heard him, all right, and I know I need help now, Reverend. Can you help me?"
The pastor glanced at the monitor, again, pursed his lips in thought. "We can point you in the right direction, Friend. There's a soup kitchen just about six blocks from here, and a shelter too. They have counselors there. Good ones."
The visitor shivered. "I don't know, Reverend. I don't know that anybody would want me. I..." he trailed off.
The pastor nodded. "I understand, Friend, it's bad. But those people are there to help you. They specialize in this, and they're very good. They can help you through this time, no matter how difficult."
The visitor peered at him. "You really think so?" he asked. "I'm pretty far gone."
The pastor nodded, fished a card out of a drawer in his desk and handed it to him. "I'm sure they can help you, Friend. It's their job, and they're good at it. They can get you straightened out again."
The visitor shuffled his feet, stared down at them and sighed. "I just want to feel loved again."
The pastor nodded toward the card in his stained hand. "They can help you. They even have church services once a week, at the shelter," he added helpfully.
After a few more moments, the visitor just looked at him, nodded wordlessly and turned toward the door. As he left, and the pastor heard the outside door thud shut, the man of God nodded to himself and smiled.
Yes, he thought, he had handled that perfectly...
The Grieving Woman: A Positive Persistence
by Lamar Massingill
Mark 7:24-37
Some say that women are more persistent than men. Some say the opposite. I'm not a psychologist or sociologist, but simply a skilled explorer regarding the behavior habits of the two genders. What I do know is that persistence, whether on the part of women or men, is many times good.
Personally, I think women do an enormous amount of work that keeps the world and the church going. I think of Baroness Thatcher of Grantham, better known as Margaret Thatcher, the first woman to serve as Britain's Prime Minister. Many criticized Mrs. Thatcher for being too much of a nagger or too one sided and persistent in her views. But I ask you, if she were a man, wouldn't she be praised for being decisive and forceful?
I think also of Rosa Parks, whose tenacity and personal integrity was pushed too far, and she sat in an area of a bus where only white people sat, and when she did, the entire world stood up.
I think of the women who persistently keep our church and other churches afloat by giving of time they could have used for themselves, and serving needs that are important to the church, yet needs that nobody else cares to do.
I think of the grieving women who lost their husbands in the tragedy of 9/11 who, a few years ago, were speaking out against the disheartening words of political columnist and author Ann Coulter, who said that these women used their position as 9/11 widows to gain financially from the losses of their husbands. They have been persistent in their disagreement with such a despicable statement, not to mention a heartless one as well. They have also been persistent in their outcries against such a statement.
I saw a piece in the news in 2004 or 2005 about four year olds beginning to ask about their fathers who died during the attack of 9/11. There was a piece about Gabriel Jacobs, born to a widow who lost her husband on 9/11. Gabriel is now beginning to ask questions such as these: "How did daddy die? Where are the bad guys? Where did the buildings go? When they cleaned up the building, did they clean up daddy too?" Personally, I would like to hear Ms. Coulter answer those questions.
The woman whom we meet in scripture today was similar to the ones I've mentioned, but in a totally different time and context. We could even call her pushy, aggressive, and perhaps even obnoxious. Mark clearly identifies her as a Gentile of Syrophoenician origin, but does not tell us how often she came to Jesus or what she said initially. Matthew, however, in his gospel, said that she came to Jesus and said "Have mercy on me, Oh Lord, Son of David!" Matthew also implies that she came to Jesus at least twice and to his disciples at least once.
I will stop here and confess that most sermons on this passage spend a good amount of time trying to justify the grossly insulting rebuke of Jesus to this nameless woman: "Let the children first be fed, for it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." Three things about this statement, then we'll move on. First, I don't know why he said it. Two, Jesus does not need us to defend him, and three, even if we wanted to defend him, there is no way we could do it.
However, I do think it is worth noting that God became incarnate not only in a person, but in a culture, and as we are bound to many of the mores and values of our own culture, we couldn't expect any less of a human being who lived in another culture. This is very early on in the ministry of Jesus, and no doubt, surrounded by the Jewish religionists Jesus gives voice to two of the most fundamental prejudices of his culture: Jewish men did not speak or allow themselves to be spoken to by women in public, and two, observant Jews tried to minimize their contact with Gentiles.
Having said that about the statement of Jesus, what is far more interesting to me is that this nameless Gentile woman, who didn't mind being persistent and was most certainly intelligent, turned this insult of Jesus to her own advantage: "Sir, even the dogs eat the children's bread under the table." Said Jesus, "Because you said this you may go, your daughter is healed." Jesus respected her intelligence and felt the grief she felt for her daughter.
So you see, in some contexts and crises of life, sometimes being pushy, aggressive and annoying is the only way to get things done. And perhaps in hindsight we can even see these words in a positive light. In this case, maybe we could replace these words with courage, positive persistence, and determination. She defied the social conventions of her day; she would not be silent and persisted in seeking the healing of her daughter. If she was pushy, then she knew who to push. She went to the one person who could cast the demon out of her daughter, namely, Jesus of Nazareth.
Sometimes I wonder why the gospel writers included this story, given the great amount of prejudice that Jesus seemed to show. I think it's there to encourage us. Like this desperate Gentile woman, we too, come to Jesus with deep and grievous needs: We are out of work and need a job; one of our loved ones is dying; or someone has just shattered our hearts to pieces. Like the nameless Gentile woman, we may pray day and night and nothing seems to happen. But the positive persistence of this woman could teach us volumes. Maybe we should come back again and again. Maybe we should make a covenant with one another to pray for each other that persistently. Imagine the difference that would make.
One more thing: this woman's request was not some off-handed, idle petition. She was not praying for a trip to Cancun, a Mercedes Benz, or the first-century equivalent. She was praying for her child, and her child's healing. And wouldn't you do the same thing? Her very flesh and blood she was begging Jesus to heal. And her persistence caught the heart of Jesus. No "Don't call us, we'll call you; no putting this woman on hold, neither of these would have worked, either for this woman, or the persistence of the women I mentioned when we began this journey.
Thank goodness for pushy women and men. Thank God for people who defy social conventions to right the wrongs of society and church. Thank goodness for men and women who seek justice and will not take no for an answer. Above all, thank God for those who kneel at the feet of Jesus day and night and pray unceasingly. Thankfully, and regardless of who we are or aren't, we are heard!
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StoryShare, September 9, 2012, issue.
Copyright 2012 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.

