Matthew 15:21-28
From Missouri, Pastor Dave Holyan writes beautifully today at Presbyterian Bogglers of one of the most difficult moments in the New Testament: “I remember a conversation with a pastor just after the book Prayer of Jabez came out. 'Every day since I became aware that my son was an alcoholic, I've prayed for God to cure him. All God does is ignore me.'
“It is difficult to reconcile a profound need, especially for a child, with God's ignorance.
“But maybe this story isn't really about a mother's request for her daughter. Maybe this is a story about how the unclean outsiders are hungry for what is freely offered to the insiders, but ignored by them and even a scrap of God's love and attention is enough to make all things right for those who are truly hungry (and willing to be tenacious).
“The list of needs for God's attention continues to grow. This week I learned a good friend has cancer, a young man with a wife and three young children. I have prayed daily for his cure. I will continue to pray. Like a relentless dog sitting under the table, I will continue to pray and wait for a scrap to be thrown his way. My faith is not great; I'm just hungry.”
I know my hunger finds me, daily, at prayer parked under God’s table, expectant eyes fixed; ears perked, listening for the slightest crumb; twitching nose on high alert; hope’s drool puddling at my feet.
I am wondering in the end, if we are not all outsiders? Having three children dead and having experienced “God’s ignorance” of innumerable prayers for their lives and the lives of countless children of countless prayers never born, I am coming to believe that had I been able to change what happened with all those prayers and tears and years of sorrow and grief, then the miracle of human life would cease to be a miracle at all. It would be reduced to something that if I prayed hard enough, with enough faith or suffered and cried hard and long enough I could bring about. As I go about my grieving and my hundering prayer, these days, I am grateful that God is God. That it was not God’s ignorance but mine of the depth of faith I might be fed with as I sit under the table in a puddle of my own drool. Amen.
From Missouri, Pastor Dave Holyan writes beautifully today at Presbyterian Bogglers of one of the most difficult moments in the New Testament: “I remember a conversation with a pastor just after the book Prayer of Jabez came out. 'Every day since I became aware that my son was an alcoholic, I've prayed for God to cure him. All God does is ignore me.'
“It is difficult to reconcile a profound need, especially for a child, with God's ignorance.
“But maybe this story isn't really about a mother's request for her daughter. Maybe this is a story about how the unclean outsiders are hungry for what is freely offered to the insiders, but ignored by them and even a scrap of God's love and attention is enough to make all things right for those who are truly hungry (and willing to be tenacious).
“The list of needs for God's attention continues to grow. This week I learned a good friend has cancer, a young man with a wife and three young children. I have prayed daily for his cure. I will continue to pray. Like a relentless dog sitting under the table, I will continue to pray and wait for a scrap to be thrown his way. My faith is not great; I'm just hungry.”
I know my hunger finds me, daily, at prayer parked under God’s table, expectant eyes fixed; ears perked, listening for the slightest crumb; twitching nose on high alert; hope’s drool puddling at my feet.
I am wondering in the end, if we are not all outsiders? Having three children dead and having experienced “God’s ignorance” of innumerable prayers for their lives and the lives of countless children of countless prayers never born, I am coming to believe that had I been able to change what happened with all those prayers and tears and years of sorrow and grief, then the miracle of human life would cease to be a miracle at all. It would be reduced to something that if I prayed hard enough, with enough faith or suffered and cried hard and long enough I could bring about. As I go about my grieving and my hundering prayer, these days, I am grateful that God is God. That it was not God’s ignorance but mine of the depth of faith I might be fed with as I sit under the table in a puddle of my own drool. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment