Crumbs from the Table, a sermon based on Matthew 15: 21-29 preached on August 16, 2026

Last Wednesday morning, pastors and church staff members from most of the churches in Marietta gathered for breakfast. A gathering of religious leaders happens often in our community, and at the beginning of the school year, the superintendent of the Marietta City School System always makes a point of being with us, so last Wednesday morning, we prayed for him, Dr. Grant Rivera, Superintendent of the Marietta City School System, as well as the for teachers, principals, custodians, administrators, cafeteria workers, and students in our schools. Dr. Rivera also said a few words, making us aware of issues in our school system, and he told us about his goal for the year. He said, “Test scores aside, my only real goal for this school year is that every child in the Marietta City School System knows that they’re loved.” Can you believe that? What a beautiful goal. I loved hearing Dr. Rivera say that, yet I know how challenging such a goal can be to accomplish, for no matter how hard we try, it always seems to be the case that some people are celebrated and warmly welcomed to sit and eat while others survive on the crumbs that fall from the master’s table. Do you know what I mean by that? Who in our school system knows that she’s loved, that she’s somebody, and who, like this woman in our Gospel lesson is so downtrodden, so destitute, that she’s reduced to gather the crumbs that fall from the master’s table? Our Gospel lesson tells us that a Canaanite woman came to Jesus, shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” Jesus didn’t immediately respond to her cry for help. What Jesus does at first is about the least Jesus-y thing He could do. He ignores her, says He came to feed the people of Isreal, not throw food to the dogs. And His disciples encouraged Him to ignore her, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” Well, she’s shouting because she needs help. She’s shouting because her daughter needs healing. Notice that when she pleads with Him for mercy saying that even dogs get to eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table, something clicks within the Son of God, and so, in our second Scripture lesson, we hear how He ignores His disciples who want Him to send her away and instead says to her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” In other words, “Thank you for waking me up.” In other words, “Thank you for helping me to realize what I’ve been doing,” and from this moment on, Jesus stops worrying only about His people in Isreal and starts proclaiming the Gospel to all God’s people. It’s true. This is the moment in the Gospel of Matthew when Jesus stops worrying only about the Jews in Isreal and starts proclaiming the Gospel to the ends of the earth, for once He realized that the one living on the crumbs from the table was also a child of God, His whole ministry shifted. What then will you do when you realize that someone in your life is living on the crumbs that fall from your table? Teachers, what will you do when you realize that a child in your classroom needs more than what you’ve been giving? Or when you care so much about the kids at school that the child at home gets only the crumbs? It’s been this way throughout history. There was a time of segregation when white children got new textbooks and black children got hand-me-downs, yet discrimination and inequality are not left to the pages of history books. The question is not, “Are some people being treated differently?” for they are. They always are. Some are at the table. Others are living on crumbs. That’s reality, and yet we can change reality if we’re willing to listen to the woman’s voice the way that Jesus did. What will you do when you find out that some are in pain? Others are being neglected? What will you do when you hear the voice of one who lives off crumbs from the table? My wife, Sara, told me a story about a child who was having his eyes examined last week. At Marietta High School, this young man walked in to have his eyes examined. He had glasses on already, yet the optometrist knew those glasses weren’t what he needed. Not even close. “How long have you had those glasses?” she asked. “Eight years,” the young man said. “You’ve had those same glasses for eight years?” she repeated, impressed that he had kept them intact for so long, but concerned that his eyes had not been re-examined. Then, sheepishly, he said, “And they’re my dad’s.” It’s human to not be aware of this kind of thing that’s happening right under our noses. There’s no shame in not knowing that some kids have prescription glasses that help them see while the best that others can do is wear their fathers’ glasses, for we are all naïve and unaware. We can’t know everything. We don’t get to hear everyone’s story. And it’s not our fault that we live in this world where some have privileges and others live on the crumbs that fall off the table, but what will you do once your eyes are opened to the suffering of your fellow man? My friends, be willing to see. Be willing to listen. Be willing to change. Once Jesus heard the voice of the woman who was living on crumbs, He changed His tune. He changed the course of His ministry. How will you change once you hear the voice of one who is living off the crumbs from your table? Should your mother call, saying, “Son, I need more help than you’re giving me,” you had better listen, and you had better listen closely because when she needs help, she’s not just going to come out and say it. I have a friend named John Jamieson. He’s been worshiping with us for the last several years, ever since he flew down from Madison, Wisconsin to bury his mother in her hometown of Marietta, Georgia. That’s how we met. Mayes Ward Dobbins Funeral Home, right across the street, called and asked for a Presbyterian minister to help with John Jamieson’s mother’s funeral. That’s how I first met him, but I didn’t know how he had become his mother’s primary caregiver until last week. This is what happened. Years ago, Brother John made it his goal to retire at 50, so he started his career by putting in 20 years working in Alaska. If you teach in Alaska, you retire with full benefits after 20 years, so at 50 years old, he was all set up to retire, move to Arizona, start a second career there, playing golf as often as he wanted. There’s no golf in Alaska, so he was excited to get to Arizona, yet John took some time before moving to Arizona to take his mom on a trip to Marietta. That’s what a good son would do, spend a little time with mom before getting on with his new life in Arizona, yet while they were here in Marietta, winter came early and mom caught pneumonia. She insisted she was fine. “Just fly me back home to Madison,” she said, “I’ll be fine on my own. You go live your life.” Yet, John knew this was the time to set his mother at the table. To serve her. To be by her side. To give her, not his spare time, but his primary time. When she died after he cared for her for 17 years, he told me that he’d not change a thing. To put off life in Arizona to care for his mother for 17 years in Madison, Wisconsin was the greatest privilege of his life, the best decision that he ever made, and you can believe that; for we are fulfilled, not when we are finally free to do whatever we want, but when we change our plans for those we love, and so I ask you: Who is getting the crumbs from your table? Who is getting, not the best of you, but the leftovers? To whom are you saying, “Stop shouting. I hear your voice, but not right now?” Is it your mother? Your kids? Your spouse? Yourself? Don’t put her off. Once you hear the voice of the one living on crumbs, be like Jesus. Make a change, for when He hears your voice, He stops to listen. That’s what fathers are supposed to do for their children. Speaking of fathers, last Thursday at the funeral of Wallace Montgomery, his daughter told the story of a day they were fishing, father and daughter, and out of nowhere she just blurted out: “Dad, I’m gay.” After blurting that out, she felt awkward. Wallace surely felt a little awkward, too, but there was nowhere to go. They were in a boat. Both were trapped, so she talked and he listened, and what I want for our world is that no child would ever be put in so precarious a position as this. What I want for all children is that they know they are loved, that they never question whether they are loved, yet one of the typical things about our broken world is that some are seated at the table while others are living on crumbs. This is the reality of our broken world, and yet the reality of God is that once the Father hears His child’s voice, He listens and He loves. Our God responds with compassion and with healing. For everyone is somebody. Everyone is worthy of love. No one deserves just the crumbs. Everyone is worthy of a seat at the Master’s Table. May it be so. Listen to the voices of those who are living on the crumbs that fall and change, that all would know the love of God. Amen.