“Lord, help me!” she cried.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t well composed. It wasn’t articulate.

But it was real. Very, very real.

This woman, in Matthew 15:21-28, didn’t know much, but it seems she knew enough. She knew her great need, springing forth from the suffering of her child. And she knew that Jesus had the power to bring about real change. Spurred on by her desperation and her knowledge, she didn’t just say, “Jesus, help me.” Nor did she say, “Rabbi, help me.” Instead, she acknowledged what many of us fail to – that Jesus is Lord. And because He is, He can indeed help.

So she cried out those three words.

At the core, isn’t that what the gospel really is? In all our talk right now, in which I fear that the word “gospel” is becoming more and more diluted, here is the essence if what we cry to Jesus over and over again.

Lord, help me.

We are in great need. We don’t claim any ability to help ourselves. We come to Jesus, finding ourselves exclusively at His mercy.

And yet we ask, for we know that because He is Lord, He can indeed help. And because He is a good Lord, that He is willing.

It’s beautiful in its simplicity. At the end of our sermons, our book reading, our tweets, and our podcasts, it comes back to this, over and over again:

Lord, help me.