By G.D. Watson
The most wonderful truths and thoughts are those which are wrought out in living experience. No definition of any trait of character can at all compare with a sublime exhibition of that trait in life. In the fifteenth chapter of Matthew there is recorded an instance of victorious faith which, though so unlike in outward detail to common experience, yet the inner secret principles involved in it enter the lives of all Christians.
"Then Jesus went thence, and departed into the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. And behold a woman of Canaan came out of the same coasts, and cried unto Him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David, my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil. But He answered her not a word. And His disciples came and besought Him, saying, Send her away, for she crieth after us. But He answered and said, I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of tile house of Israel. Then came she and worshipped Him, saying, Lord help me. But He answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread and to east it to dogs. And she said, Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's 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." Matt. 15: 21-28.
A thoughtful analysis of this incident will give us many suggestions concerning the spiritual life.
The first thought is the coming together of want and supply. "Jesus went," the "woman came." Jesus foreknew her need and her seeking faith. She had heard of Him and was eager to find Him. Here is an instance of a seeking Saviour and a seeking soul. Is it not true, as a rule, that people get what they seek? There is a tremendous meaning in the words, "He that seeketh findeth." Ten thousand incidents and evidences in nature, history and grace confirm it. From the ends of the earth, from the depths of eternity and space, want and supply come together. Prayer is the expression of want, when the want is overwhelming the prayer is prevailing. The spirit of Jesus moves toward a great crying want with more accuracy than air moves toward a vacuum.
Another suggestion is the discovery and honest confession of the malady. "My daughter is grievously vexed with a devil." She did not cover up the malady with fictitious and Latinized names. She had enough discernment to trace the malady directly to the demon, and then she had the humility and transparency to confess tile whole thing to Christ with all its mortifying reality. Here are two things that stand in the way of the salvation of millions. They do not trace their maladies to sin, and are not honest enough to make a perfect, unvarnished confession. We see here four great barriers her faith had to surmount, namely, divine silence, human coldness, caste and prejudice. If we look at these in detail, we find that they illustrate the vital issues in many lives today.
1. Her faith surmounted divine silence. In response to her cry, "He answered her not a word." How many thousands of souls have been balked at this point in their prayer and faith. Jesus moved on with His calm dignity as if deaf to her cry or insensible to her need. Has it not often been so with us? The heavens have seemed brass, the Lord seemed to be indifferent. God has spoken so many things in His Word and providence, all the earth and times seem filled with divine utterances, and yet in our particular case, and on the one vital point at issue with us, there seems to be so little said. There is such an utter silence on the one point so viral to us. There seems no answer to the one dominant question of our hearts. This unanswered question is a great test of faith. To keep on praying and believing, though God calmly and unansweringly moves on, is where the faith of many break down. She apprehended a benevolent, loving nature in Jesus in spite of the apparent indifference of His conduct. Have we a similar apprehension of God? If there be something upon which the written Word gives no special utterance, if providence gives no satisfactory answer, does our faith penetrate the mantle of silence and apprehend the nature of God, do we still believe in Him against all unpropitious seeming?
This principle of divine silence will form a test in every life, and in multiplied ways, and if we want to know the inexpressible joy of hearing His voice and having Him speak to us some special and particular word that will perfectly satisfy our personal need, our faith must endure the testing of His silence.
After all, the very silence of Jesus is a sort of an unwritten word, an unspoken truth, by which He teaches us how to pray and how to trust. If our hearts go out after Him, His very silence will draw us on in more urgent petition, for as long as He is silent He does not refuse or repel. Had He spoken too soon the fullness of her petition would not have been uttered, and so He held his voice back that the depth and volume of her cry might be poured forth. God waits that we may utter all the fullness of our heart before Him, that over and over, in every possible form and feature, our need may be expressed. And thus oftentimes' His not answering us a word becomes a magnet to draw us on to a longer and louder cry. Blessed are those who make the silence of God not a source of discouragement, but the basis of faith.
