The first test was that of silence. “She cried unto Him, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou Son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil.” The effects of these unclean spirits are described in the instance where the distressed father brought his demoniac boy to be healed. And while the father is bringing him, the poor child is seized with paroxysms of his malady, having fallen to the ground at the feet of Jesus, foaming at the lips under the violent convulsions. When the father was asked how long the boy had thus been possessed, he answered, “Of a child, and ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the water to destroy him;” and whenever the spirit “taketh him, he teareth him, and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth and pineth away.” Such was the demon this poor mother’s daughter was possessed with, and grievously tormented. But to her appeal for help, Jesus “answered her not a word.” He alone had the power to help, but the agonizing mother awakened no response. And yet, His very silence is a testing of her faith. Often it has happened that God’s answer which has best met our need was the silence which has not been a refusal, but has given time for us to reach a condition of lowliness and helplessness before God. He always lets the fruit upon His trees ripen before He plucks it. Through the silence of the winter the sap is touching again its mother earth, and becoming reinforced by her energy for its work in the blossoms of May and the fruit of September. The mind reaches its clearest, strongest conclusion by processes carried on in its depths during hours of silence and repose. It is in the long, silent hours, when the heart waits at the door, listening for the footstep down the corridor in vain, that processes are at work that shall make it more able to hold the blessedness which shall be poured out from the chalice of a Father’s pity. Again. She was sorely tested in the conduct of the disciples. They were eager to rid themselves of the worry of this woman’s crying, and, as the quickest solution--a solution which we are all ready enough to imitate--advised Christ to give her what she wanted and send her off. They thought a miracle to Christ was not more than a penny to a millionaire. They did not see that Christ’s hands were tied until the conditions of blessing were fulfilled in the suppliant. He loves us too well to give His choicest boons to those who have not complied with the lofty spiritual conditions which are part of the standing orders of the kingdom of heaven. Much of our charity is sheer selfishness. We would rather grant the request any day than have an unsightly beggar intrude into our bowers of selfish repose. “She crieth after us,” the disciples said; “her misery is unpleasant; heal it.”