Women in white raiment

by John Lemley

Whatever value or genuineness there may be attached to these traditions, they certainly show in what reverence she was held in Christian antiquity, and how highly the faith and the hope of this sufferer were esteemed.

But, above all these traditionary legends, we behold the glory and majesty of our Lord in that, in the midst of the multitude, He displayed no traces of excitement, but that in calm consciousness He was ready to receive any impression from without. Of this there is the clearest evidence, when, in the midst of the excited crowd, He perceived that one timid, shrinking woman, in the agony of her faith touched the fringe of His garment; and when He stopped to comfort and confirm the trembling believer, whom His power and grace had restored, He had recognized, even in a throng, that faith which was unperceived by men, and only found expression in the inmost desires of the one who was not even known to the crowd. He alone could develop and strengthen this unobtrusive and shrinking “daughter” until she breaks forth in open and public profession.

There are also reasons why Christ ascribes to faith the deliverance which He alone works: 1. Faith alone can receive the needed deliverance. 2. Shrinking modesty, and even a feeling of unworthiness, need no longer be kept back by any sense of uncleanness, from the full exercise of that faith. 3. God’s gifts are not alone for the rich and those high in the ranks of social life, for even this ruler of the synagogue had to give place to this timid woman, therefore faith may be exercised by those in the humblest walks of life. 4. Jesus would convert the act of faith into a life of faith. This woman was not hid from the searching glance of Christ, but His gracious act of healing was concealed from the world until He brought her before Him in her public confession.

If there is anything that can grieve the heart of Christ it must be the person who absorbs like a sponge all the gifts of grace, but never gives any of them out to others. If every one acted thus, Christianity would be blotted from the face of the earth in a single generation. Hence the wisdom and justice in requiring believers to be witnesses and confessors. If you have received any good, tell it out, that others may be blessed and God glorified.

It was now becoming manifest that the opposition of the Pharisees was deepening, and, because they were bitterly offended at the Saviour’s work, shortly after the healing of the woman with a bloody issue, Jesus withdrew from Capernaum to the “borders of Tyre and Sidon.” Only a little before this so many were coming and going that our Lord and His disciples “had no leisure so much as to eat,” and because of these throngs upon His public ministry, He had said to the apostles, “Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile.” So they sailed for the farther shore, to find a safe retreat in the sheltered uplands in the dominion of Herod Philip. But the people, who seemed to be always on the watch, when they saw the little vessel sailing out from Capernaum, and knew, by the direction it was taking, they quickly spread the news of His departure, and thronged out of Capernaum, Bethsaida, Chorazin and other cities, and hastened on foot around the shores of the sea, and outran the vessel and reached His contemplated place of retirement in advance of the little craft, and there was no rest, but a great multitude to be instructed, and healed, and fed, for it was on this occasion that He spread a table in the desert, and five thousand, besides women and children, sat down to eat. And so there was nothing but a hard day’s work, and a night on the desolate mountain in prayer. So obviously His journey to the “borders of Tyre and Sidon,” was to find seclusion and rest, which He had sought, but in vain, in the “desert place.” But even here, down by the coast of the Mediterranean, “He could not be hid,” although, when He had reached the “borders” of the land, He “entered into a house and would have no man know it.”

To our mind this is one of the most remarkable incidents in our Lord’s ministry. In the house of some sheltering friend, on the remote frontier of Galilee, He hoped to escape popular attention and to be relieved from the demands of the crowds, who had even deprived Him of the needed time to eat, but “He could not be hid.” A woman, a Syro-Phœnician, that is to say, one of the mixed race, in whom the blood of the Syrians and Phœnicians mingled, and for that reason doubly despised by the Jews, this woman had observed His presence, and was soon “at His feet.” From the fact that she was a Gentile, and of a mixed race at that, made her coming to Jesus an act of heroic faith. She came not only without invitation, or a single promise to warrant her coming, but in the face of heart-breaking discouragements. We have been trained to believe, from the clear teaching of Scripture, that when we come to Christ with our burdens of sorrow, be they ever so heavy, and ask for help, our prayers must always be subject to His will. And indeed He set us a beautiful object-lesson in His own great agony in Gethsemane. But here it would seem as if the process had been reversed, and as if this poor Syro-Phœnician woman had succeeded in imposing her will on the Son of God. Did He not say, “Be it unto thee even as thou wilt?” And is there not in this the appearance, at least, of the monarch abdicating in favor of the subject? Strange, indeed, that any one should get their own way and will with the Sovereign of all, for the sin that is in us so dyes the color of our will and deflects it, that we can seldom think of it as being other than a crooked piece of bent or twisted iron. It is very wonderful that this woman’s faith was able to get deliverance for her daughter possessed of an “unclean spirit.” Somehow she believed beforehand in His love to her, a poor Gentile mother, and this was great faith indeed. All the miracles of Christ were wrought in response to faith, either in the sufferers who besought His aid, or in their friends. There must be faith by which, as over a bridge, the divine help might pass into the nature of man. Faith is the unfurled petal, the opened door, the unshuttered lattice. And so, in this case, it was through the mother’s faith that God’s delivering help passed to the child.

Upon a careful study of the secret of this woman’s faith, we shall discover that her faith was severely tested. Christ gave her four tests, each of which was necessary to complete her education; and by each, with agile foot, she climbed the difficult stairway, which some would say was of upward ascent, but which in point of fact was one of downward climbing, until she got low enough to catch the waters which issue from the threshold of the door of heaven’s mercy.

The first test was that of silence. “She cried unto Him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil.” The effects of these unclean spirits are described in the instance where the distressed father brought his demoniac boy to be healed. And while the father is bringing him, the poor child is seized with paroxysms of his malady, having fallen to the ground at the feet of Jesus, foaming at the lips under the violent convulsions. When the father was asked how long the boy had thus been possessed, he answered, “Of a child, and ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the water to destroy him;” and whenever the spirit “taketh him, he teareth him, and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth and pineth away.” Such was the demon this poor mother’s daughter was possessed with, and grievously tormented. But to her appeal for help, Jesus “answered her not a word.” He alone had the power to help, but the agonizing mother awakened no response. And yet, His very silence is a testing of her faith. Often it has happened that God’s answer which has best met our need was the silence which has not been a refusal, but has given time for us to reach a condition of lowliness and helplessness before God. He always lets the fruit upon His trees ripen before He plucks it. Through the silence of the winter the sap is touching again its mother earth, and becoming reinforced by her energy for its work in the blossoms of May and the fruit of September. The mind reaches its clearest, strongest conclusion by processes carried on in its depths during hours of silence and repose. It is in the long, silent hours, when the heart waits at the door, listening for the footstep down the corridor in vain, that processes are at work that shall make it more able to hold the blessedness which shall be poured out from the chalice of a Father’s pity.

Again. She was sorely tested in the conduct of the disciples. They were eager to rid themselves of the worry of this woman’s crying, and, as the quickest solution—a solution which we are all ready enough to imitate—advised Christ to give her what she wanted and send her off. They thought a miracle to Christ was not more than a penny to a millionaire. They did not see that Christ’s hands were tied until the conditions of blessing were fulfilled in the suppliant. He loves us too well to give His choicest boons to those who have not complied with the lofty spiritual conditions which are part of the standing orders of the kingdom of heaven. Much of our charity is sheer selfishness. We would rather grant the request any day than have an unsightly beggar intrude into our bowers of selfish repose. “She crieth after us,” the disciples said; “her misery is unpleasant; heal it.”

But Christ was tied by the terms of His commission. She had appealed to Him as Son of David, and He said that He had been sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. She belonged to one of the alien races. She was not even a “sheep” of the house of Israel, much less a “lost” one. The question was, “Could He, even for once, transcend His commission, and grant the request of this weary soul which had traveled so far to find the Christ?” As Messiah, she had no claim on Him, for, in that capacity, He had been commissioned to the house of Israel only.