Maeburl Tincher
In 1958, I was 22 years old, newly married and living with my husband Bill in Massillon, Ohio.
One day, I received a letter from my younger sister, Bobby Jean. She was writing to catch me up on all the hometown news. On the return address, she listed Jutts Creek as the “Back Street of Dog Town.”
She knew I would get a kick out of it. It had earned that name because – in those days – there were so many dogs living around the mouth of the creek.
So, just like that, I was officially from "Dog Town."
Back then, it made me laugh, but today it reminds me of the Syrophoenician woman who came to Jesus begging for mercy for her daughter. She was a Gentile, an outsider and – in the eyes of many Israelites – considered unclean.
The disciples wanted Jesus to send her away, but she was determined. She knew He was the only one who could help her troubled child.
Jesus said to her, “It is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it unto the dogs.”
She answered, “Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.”
Her answer drew mercy from the store vault of grace. It was wise, humble and full of faith. She did not demand a seat at the table. She only asked for a crumb, knowing that even the smallest morsel from Jesus was enough.
Her persistence drew compassion from the Savior and in that moment, her daughter was made whole.
Years later, God used another dog to teach me about compassion and prayer.
Some women and I had gathered outside our church to pray when – out of nowhere – a large dog came bounding toward me. It was happy and friendly, putting its paws on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes – as though I were a life-long friend. I told it to get down and go away, but it continued – despite my best efforts.
Then, the thought came to me: pray for the dog. Be thankful for the dog.
So I did. I began to speak blessings over him and thanked God for him. As soon as I did, the dog calmed down. It laid at my feet, rested its head across them and did not move until we had finished praying.
After, it got up and merrily went on its way.
I have thought about it many times. That dog came looking for kindness and stayed until it received a blessing. Much like the Syrophoenician woman, it refused to be sent away until it got what it came for.
Through both stories, I see the same beautiful truth: God takes note of the ones others dismiss. He honors humble faith.
Sometimes, even the dogs receive a full blessing from the Master’s hand – and not just a crumb that falls from the children's table.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jutts Creek community.