God Still Gathers His Church

How Did She Know? Faith, Rahab, and the Canaanite Woman

A sermon on Matthew 15:21–28

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today's story is a confusing one, because Jesus acts a little differently than we would expect. He ignores a woman crying out to him for help—so much so that the disciples say, "Jesus, if you're not going to help her, get rid of her. Come on, she's so annoying." But even worse than that, he says to her:

"I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel... it is not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs."

Which seems real weird, right? Jesus is acting not very "Jesusy." What is going on here?

A Tale of Two Encounters

One of the things that makes this passage so interesting is that it comes immediately after a passage where the Pharisees and Jesus interact negatively. Right before this, the Pharisees come to Jesus and ask why his disciples eat with unwashed hands. They're not complaining that it's unhygienic—it's not about soap and water. This is ritual washing. Why aren't the disciples doing the kind of washing you'd do before entering the temple, because that's what tradition demands? Jesus tells the Pharisees that it isn't external things that make a person unclean, but the sins that come from the heart, for out of the heart come evil thoughts.

The Pharisees—who should get this, who are supposed to be clean, who know the Word of God and are expecting a Savior—don't get Jesus.

And then this Canaanite woman, who shouldn't know anything, whom no minister of the gospel has ever visited, comes and cries out. There's a contrast here between the faith of the Canaanite woman and the lack of faith among the people of Israel, a contrast our other readings for the day—from Romans and from Isaiah—pick up as well. It's an amazing dynamic: the cleanness of the Canaanite woman, who should be unclean, set against the blindness of the Pharisees. There's a really good sermon in that contrast. But it's not the one I'm preaching today.

An Unlikely Confession

I know—so sad. Because when I looked at this story in light of the Gospel of Matthew, I noticed something odd about this Canaanite woman: she is not coming to Jesus with a Gentile's hope. Look at what she says to him:

"Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David."

These are not Canaanite titles. They are Israelite titles—Old Testament, covenant, Law of Moses, prophets, Psalms, promise. She comes as a Canaanite woman, an outsider, a foreigner, maybe worse, and proclaims the hope of the God of Israel. She is looking for the King, the Christ, the Son of David who will sit on the throne of Israel, the Lord, the God of the Old Testament.

And it makes me wonder: how did she know?

The Gospel of Matthew is peculiar because in it, Jesus goes only to the lost sheep of Israel. The other Gospels show Jesus sending his disciples first to the Jews and then into Gentile territory, and Jesus himself ministering in Gentile areas. Matthew's account leaves that out entirely. Jesus goes only to Israel—until Matthew 28, when he finally says, "Go and make disciples of all nations," not just the lost sheep of Israel.

So in this story, how did the Canaanite woman know? Jesus had sent no missionaries. No letters had gone out to the Canaanites. In fact, of all people, this is the last person who should have known, because the Canaanites were the very people Joshua had been commanded to destroy, over a thousand years before.

Rahab: The Same Mystery

When Israel invaded the promised land, they were told to wipe the Canaanites out completely. So how did this woman know? It reminds me of Rahab.

Rahab was another Canaanite, living in the walled city of Jericho. Joshua and the people of Israel had just crossed the Jordan, and Jericho was the first city they were to destroy. Israel sent spies into the city, and the spies ended up staying in the house of a woman named Rahab—someone who, by all rights, should have been destroyed. She hid them and protected them.

Many of us miss the striking detail of what she says to the spies. From Joshua chapter 2:

"I know that the Lord has given you the land... for we have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea before you... The Lord your God, he is God in the heavens above and on the earth beneath."

How did Rahab come to this faith and trust in God? Did Joshua send missionaries across the Jordan to share the good news? No. The only "missionaries" Joshua sent carried spears in one hand and shields in the other. They were not friendly envoys. And yet the word was spreading. No one was going out to share the good news—but the word spread anyway.

Rahab heard what God had done: how he dried up the Red Sea, destroyed the Amorites, terrified the Egyptians with plague after plague. And instead of despairing, she said, in effect, "Maybe I should be on their side. Maybe I should hope in the God of Israel and trust in him."

God was working behind the scenes the whole time. Somehow the word went out with no missionary, no church, no program—and yet Rahab was gathered into the people of God. She was spared when Jericho fell, brought into the people of Israel, and she became one of the few women named in Matthew's genealogy of Jesus—a Canaanite in the King's own lineage.

God Working Beyond Our Sight

Somehow, across the centuries, the word had spread beyond the walls of Israel—to Rahab, and now to this Canaanite woman before Jesus. She had so much trust, hope, and faith that when Jesus seemed to refuse her, she kept pressing until he could not say no.

It's a lot like the centurion in Matthew's Gospel, who comes to Jesus asking for help. When Jesus offers to come to his house, the centurion says, "You don't have to do that—just say the word." And the Gospel tells us Jesus marveled at the man's faith—this Gentile, this Roman, this enemy of God's people. The text doesn't say it outright, but you get the sense Jesus is thinking, How did this happen?—especially right after the Pharisees, the people who should have known better, completely missed who he was.

I think there's a lesson here for the Church about how the ministry of the gospel actually works in the world. God is always doing his work. God is always spreading the word, even when it doesn't look like it—even when the message of the gospel seems to be hitting walls, falling flat, failing to take root. He is always gathering people, even when we are not the ones doing the gathering, into his holy Christian Church on earth to give them salvation.

More Examples: Naaman, and Today

There are plenty more examples of this. I think of the great warrior Naaman, whose story is remarkable. He was an enemy of God's people, fresh off a raid in which he had captured Israelite slaves, when he was struck with leprosy. Nothing could fix it—until a girl he had captured from Israel said, "You should go see Elisha. He can heal you." So Naaman went to the prophet Elisha, who told him to wash in the Jordan River. No missionaries, no programs—and yet he was gathered into the people of God. From Elisha's side, he was simply going about his work as a prophet when a stranger showed up out of the blue asking to be healed, and Elisha said, in effect, "All right—let's do this."

That same thing is happening all over the world right now. God is gathering people into his Church. It's happening among Muslims across the globe, who are showing up in churches, converted through the witness of others as they flee the oppression of Islam for the freedom found in Christ. In many places, it's because they've seen visions of Jesus calling them to come and hear of the forgiveness of sins. It's happening here in El Cajon, as people who come to us from all over the world hear the message of Jesus and begin gathering in churches. It's even happened in our own congregation. Pastors across the country tell me about young men, especially, who show up at the front door and say, "I want to be a Christian." Ask them how it happened, and they'll say, "I don't really know—but I felt like I should start reading Genesis." We had a young man come to us that very same way, only a couple of years ago.

This is God doing his own work in the ministry. People show up out of the blue, looking for what we have, because God is the one in charge of spreading the gospel, sending his word out into the world. Scripture doesn't tell us to therefore say nothing—but it does remind us who is really in charge of spreading the good news.

A Promise for Discouraging Times

We look at demographics. We look at attendance numbers. We look at surveys showing Christianity declining across our country, and we wonder about the state of the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod, and it can be pretty discouraging.

But passages like this one give us assurance. They give us a promise: even as churches decline, God's work continues. God still spreads his gospel in his own way, beyond our sight, beyond our ability, all over the world—and we can still trust in that. There is no reason to despair or fear, because God is in charge, and he takes care of it. He brings the word to those who need to hear it.

In Jesus' name. Amen.