But He Answered Her Not a Word by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Nov 21, 1911

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 38, No. 46.

“But He Answered Her Not a Word”

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MORE than nineteen centuries ago, there lived a poor Greek woman, with her invalid daughter, on the coast of the Mediterranean, about a hundred miles to the north of Jerusalem.

In those days news traveled very slowly; but in some way the woman had heard of a mighty Healer, who performed many miracles in Jerusalem and the cities round about.

The more she thought about it, the more she longed to seek His help in behalf of her afflicted daughter. Gladly would she have made the long journey; but presumably she had neither means with which to make the journey, nor friends to whose loving care she might entrust her child in her absence.

But the Master knew all about her, and His infinite heart of love reached out after her. He also knew that there was a woman of most wonderful faith—one, indeed, whose faith would never let go.

And therefore the great Healer made the long, tedious journey Himself—presumably all the way on foot—with His company, that this record of undying faith, unparalleled in its simplicity, might be given to the world.

Finally, to the great joy of the woman, the news reached her that the Healer was visiting the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. That was near home; she could see Him at last, and He would heal her daughter! It was a joyful day when this news reached the humble home of the Syrophenician. At once she set out to find Him; but altho He had come expressly to see her, yet He had purposely hidden Himself from her.

Now the disciples, jealous of their Master’s honor, did not at all relish the idea of being followed by a woman, and she a poor Greek heathen. “Send her away,” they entreated, “for she crieth after us.”

He did not send her away, but He passed right on, apparently deaf to her entreaties. She followed, and cried piteously after Him. Still not a word is spoken to the persistent woman.

I am afraid that this treatment would have discouraged most women, and they would have returned home, embittered in spirit, and angry—some would say justly—at the Master.

I am so glad this was not the case with this poor Greek. She was not the “sensitive” kind. The truth was, she forgot herself and her own feelings in her deep anxiety for her loved one. No; she would never give up until she had gained the attention of the Master. Faith, perseverance, unselfishness, and tender mother love are all shown. Instead of becoming offended by His apparent refusal to notice her, she hurried to His side, and prostrated herself at His feet, worshiping Him.

Her prayer was short, but intensely earnest and full of pathetic appeal: “Lord, help me!”

At last the Master opened His lips; but so far from encouraging her, He gave her a reply which to most minds would have meant absolute refusal: “It is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it to dogs.”

Then came she and worshiped Him, saying, Lord, help me. But He answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crums which fall from their masters' table. Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole from that very hour.

And she was a heathen “dog.” Had not the divine Nazarene so declared? What right had she to claim the attention of this mighty Miracle Worker? Surely now she will yield the struggle. Never!

With quick retort she answered Him: Yes, Lord, I acknowledge that I am nothing. I am unworthy the smallest attention from such as Thou art; but yet, the dogs under the table eat of the children’s crums.

Enough. “O woman, great is thy faith.” “For this saying go thy way; the devil is gone out of thy daughter.”

Wonderful faith! sublime courage! Time after time to be rebuffed both by the disciples and the Master—it mattered not. Faith triumphed.

But why did He hide Himself from her?—Ah, so she would seek Him the more earnestly.

Why does He sometimes hide Himself from us, when we so long for a glimpse of His face?—That we also may follow after

Him like the poor Greek, and cry after Him, until we find Him.

Why did He turn an apparently deaf ear toward her even after she had found Him, and twice meet her most earnest words and most devout worship with apparent indifference and scorn?—Ah, He knew the rich depth of faith in that tender, unselfish heart before Him. He knew that she would endure trial and rebuff and scorn, with never a word of complaint.

And richly was her faith rewarded.

O my sisters, what an example of courage and faith is here for us! Does it sometimes seem as if the clouds are too thick about our head ever to be pierced by our trembling prayers? Are the heavens brass? Does it seem that the pitying Father sees not nor cares for our grief? Do we call and cry out in our distress, and is there none to answer? Remember the Syrophenician, and take heart.

It may be the Master is hiding His face, as He did from her, only that you may seek Him the more persistently.

Then, are the answers which finally come to you, after weary days or weeks or years of heart-breaking entreaty, such as fail to satisfy your heart? Believe me, the Master is only testing you. When the lesson is learned, when the dross is all burned away, then He will turn toward you such a face of reconciliation and love as will more than repay you for all you have suffered.

Then, no matter how severe the trial of our faith, we will never for a moment falter. We will cling, and trust, and never give up. He will hear; He does hear. We will give Him no rest; this is the kind of faith that wins the battle always.

In that wonderful prayer which Luther offered just before entering the Diet of Worms, he makes this thrilling declaration:

“I will never break off from Thee, either now or through eternity!”

Such faith is always honored of Heaven.