Mark 7: 24-30 (NLT)
Then Jesus left Galilee and went north to the region of Tyre. He didn’t want anyone to know which house he was staying in, but he couldn’t keep it a secret. Right away a woman who had heard about him came and fell at his feet. Her little girl was possessed by an evilspirit, and she begged him to cast out the demon from her daughter. Since she was a Gentile, born in Syrian Phoenicia, Jesus told her, “First I should feed the children—my own family, the Jews.It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied, “That’s true, Lord, but even the dogs under the table are allowed to eat the scraps from the children’s plates.” “Good answer!” he said. “Now go home, for the demon has left your daughter.” And when she arrived home, she found her little girl lying quietly in bed, and the demon was gone.
It’s the peaceful, quiet moment in the midst of a personal storm. It’s the healing coursing through your fragile human body. It’s the encouraging Word during the Sunday morning message. It’s the mood altering chords and lyrics of a worship song. It’s the random act of kindness from a friend. It’s the life-changing encounter with a stranger. It’s the unexpected check in the mail before the bill is due. It’s the playful love and wonder of a toddler.
They’re all scraps from heaven.
For whatever reason, when I read this Gospel story, I think of the table being the great divide between heaven and earth. Those already wallowing in the indescribable glory of God’s presence are feasting at the table. Every once in a while though, one of the scraps from that miraculous meal spills off the table and falls to us “dogs” down here on earth. They fall in the form of those things listed in the previous paragraph and they display to us God’s love and his constant reminder of that love.
I admitted in a devotion long ago that I’m a sucker for a good story - especially a truthful one about God’s grace (scraps from heaven). So allow me to share one here.
Some years ago, a little girl was born with a painful condition which made it next to impossible to touch her. It was some sort of nerve ending disorder where the slightest contact sent ripples of fiery pain through her little body. The doctors had to devise a contraption to cradle her to give her some comfort but her mom and dad could only have minimal snuggling time. As you can imagine, it broke the parent’s hearts. But they trusted in God and prayed and over the course of a few years, Jesus healed the little girl. The full extent of her healing came as she sat in the bleachers with her folks watching her brother’s baseball game. An afternoon shower was brewing when her head shot up suddenly, startling her parents. “Do you smell that?” she cried out. “What…What is it? Rain?” her parents stammered. “Yes, rain. But it smells just like Jesus. I remember how he smells because he used to rock me as a baby.” The parents realized that when they couldn’t hold their own baby, Jesus had been cradling her the entire time. And they praised God because of it.
A scrap from heaven.
