She is desperate. You can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice: the urgency, the fear, the despair. Her little girl is suffering from demon possession (Matthew 15:21-28).

Imagine that you've carried this child in your womb for nine months and went through the excruciating pain of childbirth. Nursed her, fed her, changed her. Watched her grow, take that first step, say her first word, even played peek-a-boo with her. She's your little girl.

She had been sick before. A cold here, a headache there, maybe even the flu from time to time.

But nothing ever like this.

She screams and hollers constantly. You can't put new clothes on her because she tears them off. No longer is her hair neatly cared for and cute. She has almost pulled it all out at the roots. Strange voices come out of her mouth. She can't eat. She can't sleep. She can't play.

And those eyes. There's a strange look in her eyes. Eyes that glow with pure evil. Eyes that tell you that this is no ordinary sickness, no ordinary problem.

This mother hears that Jesus has come to town. She's heard the reports that are going around about his power to heal and cast out demons. There is a faint ray of hope. She finds Jesus and pleads, "Lord, have mercy on me!"

Jesus meets her pleas with stony silence. She keeps pleading. Then he says, "Sorry, I'm not here for you. I can't be bothered with you and your problems."

But she keeps persisting and pressing and praying, "Kyrie eleison. Lord, help me." It doesn't get more heartrending than that.

Jesus responds, "It's not right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." Ouch! His silence was bad enough. Now, he calls her a dog. She'd heard that slur before in the marketplace, on the street corner, from the mouths of the Israelite men as they spit when she passed by. But from Jesus?

JESUS IS SOMETIMES SILENT FOR US TOO

Like you, I've heard that story since childhood. As a pastor I've preached on this woman and her faith. But I never really understood the pain the widow felt from Jesus' responses.

Until now.