When I was about ten years old, I begged my parents for a typewriter. It took a fair bit of pleading, and they said “no” at first. They were understandably concerned that – if they bought it – this expensive device would go unused, like the various arts-and-crafts implements, sports equipment, little-played toys, and other tchotchkes I’d acquired over the years.
Somehow, though, I knew this was different. I made my case to my mom and dad. I wanted to write, and I wanted my words to look real . . . and in the mid-1980s, that meant a typewriter. My handwriting had been terrible (and still is today), but I was confident that I would write better and more if only I had a typewriter.
So, Christmas morning, I awoke to discover that my big gift was, indeed, a typewriter. It was designed to be portable, so it was a bit smaller than I might have liked. It was manual and clunky. It didn’t have the number “1”; you had to type a lowercase “L.” The slender metal arms jammed if I typed too fast. I had to press the keys with such force that I was afraid I’d break my fingers.
I loved it.
I typed seemingly constantly. I found myself spending my allowance money on typewriter ribbons, carbon paper, and tiny bottles of white correction fluid. My mom bought reams of paper for me. My fingers had a near-permanent tinge from ink. My right middle finger has a noticeable rightward bow, which I suspect was caused by childhood typing.
My childhood skills grew as the years passed. The typewriter was eventually replaced with a computer, where I continued to hone my skills. I ultimately became a professional writer and editor. On a good day (with a great keyboard), I can type a hundred words per minute.
And I could argue that it all began with convincing my parents that I really, really wanted a typewriter.
I was reminded about this when I reflected on today’s reading. In today’s Gospel selection from Matthew, a woman pleas with Jesus to heal her demon-possessed daughter. And look at the language she uses, even as she’s rebuffed:
- “Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David!”
- “Lord, help me.”
- “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.”
This exchange compares to the Sunday reading from a couple of weeks ago, where Abraham argues with God about whether He would destroy the wicked city of Sodom even if there were 50 innocent people therein. The exchange continues almost comically long, with Abraham haggling the number down to 45, 40, 30, 20, and – finally – 10 innocents, with God acquiescing each time.
I admit that I needed to reflect on today’s story with the woman a lot longer than I normally do. Oh, I understood the general point I wanted to make: Sometimes you need to make your case and argue with God to get what you want. But, for me at least, it’s a lesson I don’t heed very often.
I like to believe this is for good reasons. I tend to trust God like I trust my parents, and if they say “no” to a request, then I’m not one to whine or wheedle. Indeed, I think it’s generally good to be accepting of what you have – a lesson I’ve tried to live as an adult. We’ve tried to teach our own son to be accepting of what we have and to understand why we say no as parents. In a similar way, I believe that trying to have God cater to your every whim will quite likely lead to you being exhausted and unsatisfied.
Yet, there are times when I wonder if part of that initial pushback from having our prayers answered is to determine how much we really want something . . . not to God – of course, He knows everything – but to ourselves. In the same way that my desire for a typewriter – and that initial refusal from my parents – led me to truly realize how important writing was to me, I like to believe that sometimes we need to argue our case to God because we’re arguing our case to ourselves.
Jesus certainly knew that he could have healed the woman’s daughter, and he equally certainly knew he would. But his initial seeming reluctance served two purposes. First, it helped the woman articulate how much faith she had in Christ; she reasoned correctly that the slightest scrap of attention from our Lord was a prize beyond compare, and she stated eloquently and passionately her case.
But in so doing, she also gave us this valuable example of when you really need to make your case to the Lord. Because sometimes we forge our futures with the strength of our convictions combined with the gifts of God. And if these words have touched you at all, it’s because of a God-given talent and the desires of a young boy who really, really wanted a typewriter.
Numbers 13:1-2,25-14:1,26-29,34-35
Psalm 105(106):6-7,13-14,21-23
| James1:18 Lk7:16 Matthew 15:21-28 |
|---|
