A common sight on the streets of Venice, between the gorgeous canals, luxury shops, and stunning architecture, were beggars. There was not an obscene amount, and they were usually far from major tourist attractions like St. Mark’s Square, and, in fact, I had read that begging was illegal in Venice, but you would still find them with great regularity. Usually, they were older women who would prostrate themselves on the ground in the heat of the day wearing head coverings and placing an empty cup just inches in front of their hands for any merciful passerby to throw in a spare Euro or two. Now, when I was younger, I was one who would always ask my mom or dad to help the poor beggar. We had enough, some to share at least, so why not share it with those who had nothing? The problem as you grow older is you learn about the scams, the phonies, and the fakes which pull on your heartstrings to try and reap the rewards from your compassion. It makes you a skeptic, suspicious of what you see. It gets so bad that, whether you are in Europe or downtown Ventura, it becomes easy, almost without thought, to pass by a beggar without even a hint of compassion.

But if we take the swindlers out of the picture, if we find a way to set our biases aside and assume a beggar is a beggar, what does that mean? What does it mean for someone to beg? Whether it is begging for food, begging for some spare change, or any other form of compassion that is asked, where are you? In other words, as the individual begging, where are you at in life? What has brought you to this point? What massive upheaval and destruction of your hopes and dreams has led to this: To begging? Now, the individual stories will no doubt be different, but to be a beggar, to be reduced to that is to be entirely out of options. You have no control over the outcomes and no ability to dictate how things play out. You are completely at the mercy of others. What a terrifying place to be. What a nightmare. To beg is to say you cannot do it. You cannot rectify this. You need mercy. You need someone, anyone, to have compassion. Indeed, it must be a desperate and helpless feeling to be reduced to begging.

Imagine the commotion among those who came to listen to the words of the Teacher, those gathered in solemn reverence as He unfolded mysteries of the divine in that private home when a beggar pushed through the group, invading their sacred space. She was frantic and exhausted, a woman at the end of her rope. There was nothing she could do, nothing in her ability to fix her situation. This was her one shot. This was her last gasp, her final effort. She had heard of Jesus and His abilities and bet everything on His compassion. She presses through the group and falls at the feet of Jesus, and she begs. She begs with all that is in her, not for herself, not for her own betterment, but for the sake of her daughter. A demon consumes her child. “Please,” she begs, “please help her. Please do something.” Tears stream down her face as she clutches for His feet.

Begging before our Lord is a common theme. Those who have nothing, those who have no control over the outcomes of their lives, and those who are helpless will find themselves as beggars at Jesus’ feet. In the very next scene, the people bring to Jesus a man who is deaf and has a speech impediment. There is no remedy or cure they can administer. So, when they see Jesus approaching, they rush to Him and beg. They beg Him to set the man free from this prison of his. And you know, the more I think about it, perhaps this is the only way we can approach our Lord… as beggars; empty-handed beggars with nowhere else to turn.

Jesus’ response to this frantic mother is shocking, to say the least. He does not immediately respond to her plea with a compassion-filled healing of her daughter. No, He first takes from her the very last of her dignity and pride. His response to her begging strips away anything of her own on which she is leaning. He tells her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” That is right. He is sent to the children of Israel. He is the long-awaited Messiah, the promised One foretold by the prophets of old. This outsider, a gentile woman, has no right to what He has come to give. She is simply a dog begging at the table. So, He says, “Go ahead and beg, but the children will be fed first.”

Now, her response to this rebuff is shocking. She is not out to swindle Jesus. She is not looking for a quick handout from a sucker. She is genuinely an empty-handed beggar. She has nowhere else to turn, nowhere else to go. This is her last and only hope for her daughter. Therefore, she receives His Word, holds to what He has said about her, and replies, “Yes, Lord. Yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” If she is a dog, fine, but the dogs get the crumbs that fall under the table. The dogs get the leftovers, and that is all she wants, all she needs, just a crumb, a crumb of His compassion, a crumb of His love. It would be enough. It would bring new life to her daughter. “Yes, Lord, I am what You say I am. For I have nothing without You.”

At 62, a very weary and exhausted Martin Luther traveled to his hometown of Eisleben in 1546. He went to settle a dispute between the counts in Mansfield and fell ill while there. He would never recover. As close friends and trusted companions attended to his final days, they found upon his death a small piece of paper on which he wrote his final words. It simply said, “We are all beggars. This is true.” No matter our financial situation in life, our comfort and learning, or our fame or fortune, before Christ, we are all beggars, each and every one of you.

To be a beggar is to be unable to fix your situation, unable to solve what plagues you, and to truly be dependent on the mercy of another. That is you. You may come before your Lord and begin by saying you need Him because life has gone awry. You need Him because your plans seem to have derailed. You have longings you cannot control, disappointments you want to correct. You want to turn your life around and achieve something great. So, perhaps through prayer, perhaps through some act of obedience, you can manifest these things in your life. But when you come, when you approach to beg, He just empties you out. Jesus says, “How dare you think you can come before Me. You are a sinner, a sinner through and through. You sin in your thoughts, your words, and your deeds. You sin in the very best things you do. They promote your pride, your ego, and your quest for fame and fortune. And your sin hammered the nails into My flesh. Your sin is felt in every lash on my back.”

What do you say to that? What is your great response? Are you going to debate your Lord? Will you argue about how you were just doing your best and trying your hardest? No. You confess. You say, “Yes, Lord, I am what You say I am. I am a sinner in thought, word, and deed, a sinner by what I have done and by what I have left undone, a sinner unworthy of anything You have to give. Yet, it is for sinners that You have come, for sinners that You suffered, died, and rose again.” Christ has come, not for the healthy, but the sick, not for the righteous ones, but for the sinners. In emptying you of your quest for glory, He alone becomes all things. He is your hope. He is your salvation. He alone is your assurance for life eternal.

We come over and over again begging, begging for the smallest of crumbs. But thanks be to God, our Lord never gives crumbs. He gives everything, a full measure pressed down and overflowing. He gives forgiveness of all your sins, all His righteousness, and all His glory. You are beggars before Christ, but in Christ, you are given everything.