Jesus at the Border

A Sermon on Mark 7: 24-37

The story in Mark 7 begins with a journey. Jesus, tired and perhaps weary from all that he’s been doing, enters a house hoping to remain anonymous. He’s in the region of Tyre, far from the familiar lands of Galilee, to seek some rest. This is a place where, by all appearances, he might not expect to be recognized—let alone followed. But anonymity, as Jesus often found, isn’t something that comes easily when the world around you is hungry for healing and hope.

A woman approaches Jesus. Mark tells us she’s a Gentile, Syrophoenician by birth. She’s not from the religious circles of Jesus’ people. She’s an outsider, and in that world, she’s a double outsider—by ethnicity and by gender. And she is desperate. Her daughter is suffering from an unclean spirit. So, she comes to Jesus, begging for her child to be healed.

Now, I imagine the scene here. It’s not just a quiet request; this woman’s whole world is on the line. Her life is tied up with her daughter’s well-being. And when you’ve got someone you love in that kind of pain, you don’t care about customs, you don’t care about traditions, and you certainly don’t care about being polite.

She comes at Jesus with everything she’s got.

But the response she receives is not what we expect from Jesus. He says to her, "Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs."

Now, wait a minute. This doesn’t sound like the Jesus we know, the one who eats with tax collectors and sinners, the one who says, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” It sounds harsh, dismissive even. This isn’t the soft, comforting answer we hope for when we come to Jesus in our pain.

But look at what happens next.

The woman doesn’t back down. She says, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

There’s a power in her response that can’t be ignored. She accepts the insult that’s been thrown at her, but she doesn’t let it define her. Instead, she finds a way to turn it into an opportunity for grace. She’s saying, “I know who I am, but I also know who you are. I may be on the outside, but even the outsiders have a place at the table. And I need what only you can give.”

I imagine Jesus pausing, maybe even smiling, knowing she’s right. And he says, "For what you said, you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter."

Jesus sees her faith—not just in him, but in the expansiveness of his mission. This woman believed, even when she wasn’t sure she was included in the plan, that the love and power of God was big enough to stretch beyond the boundaries of what was expected. She saw something in Jesus that perhaps even his disciples hadn’t fully understood yet. She saw that grace was never meant to be restricted.

This encounter with the Syrophoenician woman teaches us something vital about faith and persistence, but it also shows us something about Jesus himself.

Jesus, in this moment, was embodying the limitations and biases of his time and his community. He was raised in a culture where Gentiles were seen as outsiders, unworthy of God’s special attention. And yet, this encounter with a desperate, determined woman becomes a moment of transformation—not just for her, but for him too. 

Sometimes God’s grace shows up where we least expect it, and sometimes the people we think are on the outside are the very ones who can teach us what true faith looks like.

I’m reminded of the struggles we see in our society today, of the lines that are drawn to separate “us” from “them.” It seems we’re always building walls—walls of race, walls of class, walls of nationality, walls of gender. We’ve been conditioned to think that there’s not enough grace to go around, not enough resources, not enough compassion.

But Jesus shows us something different here. His encounter with the Syrophoenician woman expands the circle, and it challenges our own boundaries of who we think is worthy of love, who we think is deserving of healing.

We live in a world where too many people are told that they are outsiders. Our society has systems in place that push certain people to the margins—people who are different, people who don’t fit the mold, people who are struggling. And too often, the church has been complicit in maintaining those boundaries.

But this woman, with her boldness and her faith, forces Jesus—and forces us—to look beyond those boundaries. She demands to be seen. She demands that her humanity be recognized.

And in doing so, she helps Jesus realize that his mission is bigger than just one group of people, bigger than just one community. His mission is to all people, in all places.

His vision expanded. His mandate wasn’t just to gather the lost people of Israel. This momma bear protecting her cub, showed Jesus that his mission was for the whole world.

She isn’t just the demon-possessed daughter’s mother. She is OUR mother. If it weren’t for her, YOU wouldn’t be sitting here. If it weren’t for the Syrophenican mom, I wouldn’t be standing in this pulpit. If it weren’t for the courage and faith of this supposed outsider, this church wouldn’t exist, because she pushed Jesus to enlarge his vision to include the WHOLE WORLD in his salvation mission. 

She showed Jesus just how expansive his mission was.

And then, Mark gives us another story. Jesus moves on from Tyre and travels to the region of the Decapolis. There, they bring to him a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment. They beg Jesus to lay his hand on him.

Now, notice this—Jesus doesn’t just speak a word of healing from afar. He takes the man aside, away from the crowd. This is intimate. He puts his fingers in the man’s ears, and he spits and touches his tongue. And then he looks up to heaven and sighs, saying, "Ephphatha," which means “Be opened.”

The man’s ears are opened, his tongue is released, and he speaks plainly.

Once again, we see Jesus not just healing physical ailments, but breaking down barriers. This man was cut off from society, unable to hear or speak clearly. But Jesus doesn’t just heal his body—he restores his ability to connect with the world around him. He opens him up to relationship, to community, to life.

And when we look at these two stories together, we see a common thread. Both the Syrophoenician woman and the deaf man represent people who have been excluded, people who have been on the outside. But Jesus meets them where they are, and in doing so, he reveals something about the nature of God’s kingdom.

God’s kingdom is for everyone. It doesn’t matter where you come from, what you’ve done, or what society says about you. God’s grace is abundant. God’s love is limitless.

This means that as followers of Jesus, we are called to be boundary-breakers, just like him. We are called to go beyond our comfort zones, to reach out to the people society has marginalized, and to proclaim the good news that God’s love is for all.

It means to have the faith of the Syrophoenician woman, who refused to accept the idea that there wasn’t enough grace for her and her daughter. It means to have the compassion of Jesus, who didn’t just heal from a distance but got close, touched, and made whole.

And it means to have the courage to see that the kingdom of God is always bigger than we thought. It’s always pushing the boundaries of who’s in and who’s out, always expanding the table to make room for more.

May we be people who are always expanding the table. May we be people who, like Jesus, are willing to be transformed by the faith of those on the margins. And may we be people who, with every encounter, proclaim the good news that God’s grace is for all. Amen.

Prayer

Let us pray.

Gracious and expansive God, we come before You with hearts open, seeking the boundless grace that flows from Your love. Like the Syrophoenician woman, we approach with boldness, knowing that no one is beyond the reach of Your mercy. Open our hearts to see the outsiders in our midst, to hear the cries of those pushed to the margins, and to recognize the faith in unexpected places.

We ask for the courage to break down the walls that separate us—walls of prejudice, fear, and indifference. Help us to be like Jesus, willing to be transformed by the encounters we have with those we do not yet fully understand. May we see Your face in every person, and may we extend Your love to all, without hesitation or limits.

Empower us, God, to expand the table of grace, to create a community where all are welcome, all are valued, and all are healed. May our lives reflect the abundant love that You offer as we work to bring Your kingdom closer to this earth.

In the name of Jesus, who broke boundaries and opened hearts, we pray.

Amen.

Rev. Dr. Kevin G. Powell