A preacher always hopes for inspiration: for some hint from the Holy Spirit about what the message should be. And sometimes it happens, as it did to me on Friday, that the hint comes after the writing is almost finished. So I have thrown out that first sermon, and instead I am here to tell you three stories: of a Phoenician woman, of a deaf man, and of Jesus. What will be different about these stories, is that the Holy Spirit suggested that I tell them in the first person, in their own voices.

The First Story My name is Ishtara; you probably don't know how common it is to name girls after the goddess we worship in Phoenicia. I live in the beautiful island city of Tyre: it is the oldest city on the coast. I come from a respected Phoenician family that used own ships and trade the best goods all around the Mediterranean. I married a sailor, and that was a mistake, for after a year he signed onto a new ship, and I have never seen him since that ship sailed. I don't know if he is lost at sea, or making a new life in Carthage.

The center of my life is my lovely daughter Mariam, who is now 15 and preparing to be married. Many years ago, when she was 4, a demon entered her. She would have fits of shaking every day, which exhausted her. All the life went out of her; she hardly ate anything; and my precious child began to waste away. I did everything I could think of: I made offerings to Ishtar; I fasted and prayed; I consulted a physician at great expense who could do nothing; I paid a priest to come from the temple of Melqart to cast out the demon, but nothing worked.

One day when I was preparing a magical blend of herbs and spices, my neighbor told me a Jewish healer from Galilee had arrived, and was staying in a home nearby. She said he had healed many people in Galilee, and he was a man of great power. I didn't need a lot of encouragement. I asked her to watch Mariam while I went to find this healer. I was so frantic to find help that I didn't think out how to approach the Jewish man: he must have thought he was facing a crazy woman. I threw myself at his feet, and poured out my story through my tears. I don't think he could understand everything I said, but our languages are close enough that he got the main idea.

I was stunned by his response . . . something about his healing power belonging to the Jews, and that we Gentiles were dogs!! How could he say such a thing about my beautiful little girl! I admit it enraged me . . . I wasn't thinking clearly about how I was asking him a favor . . . so the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them: "even the dogs under the table eat the crumbs of the children's food". He was shocked by my words . . . and then, I saw his face change . . . some new thought came to him . . . it was not from me.

He said very gently, sister you are right. Go home, "the demon has left your daughter". Well, then I didn't know what to do. I had expected that he would ask to see the child, and say some sacred words, or perform some ritual, and command the demon to come out. But no, there was only that quiet sentence, "the demon has left". Could I believe him? Or was he just trying to get rid of me? I guess I realized I didn't have a choice, so I got up off the floor and walked home, dreading to see her unchanged . . . and just barely allowing myself to hope that she was well.

I will never forget that moment when I saw Mariam sitting up in bed playing with her little doll . . . . I couldn't take my eyes off her all day. The next day, I took her with me to go back and thank that Jewish healer, but he had already left.

The Second Story My name is Himerios. I come from a Greek family that emigrated to the Decapolis, on the east side of the Jordan River, 3 generations back. When I was a child, I became seriously ill and almost died. When I recovered, I had lost my hearing. I guess I was too young to remember very long how to speak properly; within a year no one could understand me, and I stopped trying to speak.

But my eyesight was good, and I could do simple lip-reading, so I got along with the help of my brothers and sisters. For many years I worked in the fields, planting and harvesting. Then someone discovered I was good at drawing, so now I paint designs on pottery. When I was 30 years old, everyone in town seemed to be excited; I didn't find out about all the talk until much later. So my brothers knew there was a Jewish healer, who was supposed to be remarkable.

One day, two of my brothers come rushing into the shed where I do my painting, made me stop, and get up and come with them. I had no idea what was going on. I realized they were very eager for me to see something, and I thought maybe it was a cohort of Roman legionaries coming into town. They rushed me along to the market square and brought me face to face with a Jewish man about my age. I saw he was Jewish because of his beard and his clothing; we Greeks prefer to shave off our beards. There was a big crowd around him, and there was excitement on all their faces.

My brothers spoke to Jesus, as I came to know him, but I could not read their lips; I couldn't tell what was going on. I was surprised when Jesus made eye contact with me, and gestured, inviting me to walk with him. He must have told my brothers and the crowd to stay put, because no one followed us. We walked down a side street and around a corner, out of sight of the crowd. Then he faced me, and put a finger in each of my ears. I was amazed: what was he doing? This strange Jewish man touching me, making himself unclean according to Jewish law. Then he did something repulsive . . . he licked his fingers, opened my mouth and touched my tongue.

You can well imagine that I moved away from him in a hurry; I didn't even see that he was saying something. Anger rose up in me, and almost without realizing it, I was shouting "leave me alone", and I was hearing myself shout !!! Of course, all the anger left me instantly, and I came back toward him, asking, "what did you do? I can hear, I can speak!" He smiled at me then, and ordered me not to tell anyone. What a ridiculous order that was . . . everyone in town knew I was deaf and mute. . . when my brothers realized I could hear, they were ecstatic. Within 10 minutes the whole community knew I had been healed.

The Third Story In my ministry I was always obedient to the Father, but there were lots of decisions I had to make in the moment. I tried so hard to get the Galileans to understand the good news of God's love, but often they didn't want to hear it. I expected the healings I did to be received as evidence of the Father's forgiveness and love, but people didn't always make the connection.

So it may be that I did too many healings--hundreds of people were meeting me wherever I went, bringing their sick and just trying to touch me. It was exhausting, and I realized that I needed some time away from it all, more than a good night's sleep. So I decided to leave Galilee, and go north to Tyre where they didn't know me, and hadn't heard about the healings. Philip had a relative there, where we could stay.

But after one night the word had gotten out, and a Phoenician woman came begging healing for her daughter. She was clearly at the end of her rope, and when I told her that the healing power was reserved for the children of Israel, she challenged me. I was about to dismiss her for her insolence, when I realized, she was right. In that moment, I saw that the Father's kingdom would be much bigger than I imagined . . . that He was prepared to invite everyone, from north and south and east and west, all the Gentiles as well as all the Jews. It took my breath away, and I needed time to think over the implications. So I told her that her daughter was healed, and felt the power go out from me. I could see that she didn't believe me . . .why should she? But she left.

I conferred with Peter, and we agreed it would be a mistake to stay in Tyre after even one healing. So we set off toward the east, walking for several days, and finally arrived at one of the Ten Towns on the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee. Avila it was called.

We thought, here was a Greek city far from Jewish influence, and it was full of Greeks, but somehow they too had heard of me. They didn't quite know how to approach me, until two men came rushing up, dragging a third man. I could tell immediately that he was deaf, and he looked quite frightened. My heart went out to him, and so I invited him to walk with me, away from the excited crowd. As we walked, I was thinking about that Phoenician woman whose daughter I healed, and I saw there there was no reason to withhold healing from this Greek man. It just didn't matter that he was a Gentile: he was a child of my Father, as beloved as any Jewish man. In fact, as beloved as any Jewish woman! So I touched his ears, and his tongue, the healing power flowed out, and I knew the Father had sent me to save them all.