I struggle with the story of Jesus encountering the Canaanite woman. I
don’t know if it’s the lack of compassion in Jesus’ voice or the
exploitation of power or the tone of condescension, but if this were
the only story I knew of Jesus I’d be turned off.
When I am in the locker room of my study, feeling dejected, downcast, weary and defeated from the preaching effort, I read:
For
there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of
all and is generous to all who call on him. For, "Everyone who calls on
the name of the Lord shall be saved."
When I can’t pray I often turn to the end of Romans 8. Here Paul
pulls back the velvet curtain of revelation. What we see is amazing: a
never-ending festivity where there sounds a strained, melodious,
mysterious prayer that all the suffering in this present world cannot
drown out. At the heart of the festivity is the Triune God praying for
us.
