The Demoniac
Mark 5:1-20 & Luke 8:26-39
Domitius watched the storm clouds gather over the water and heard the thunder as it rolled up the sky. The wind twisted the date trees and kicked dust swirling. People rushed to find cover from the impending deluge.
It had been a storm much like this several years ago that was the backdrop for his deliverance. He lingered in the memories. His skin prickled in response to the wind that came over the little settlement perched above Galilee.
Behind him, he felt the familiar touch of his wife and he turned to see her at his shoulder. Beyond her, he looked at his son and smiled.
One more crack of thunder, and the sky opened. Raindrops hit the dusty streets, first with a slow patter and then grew into a deafening roar. The rain blew into the doorway, spaying Domitius. He closed his eyes allowing the rain and the memories to wash over him.
“What are you thinking of Domitius?” A familiar voice came from the interior.
He turned to face his family as they sat around the small fire in the center of the room. Domitius pulled the door shut, closing out the storm. The enticing simmer of goat stew filled his nostrils. His wife poured a cup of wine and handed it to him. Accepting it, he joined his family and began, “I was thinking of my meeting with Jesus in Genesenes. It was a storm like this. I remember how the sky darkened, and the wind blew and suddenly nothing looked familiar. I was lost, confused, and scared. But then the storm passed, and the sun came to show the way.”
Domitius took a sip from the clay bowl. He leaned back against the cool bricks. He closed his eyes and allowed the memory to engulf him. After a moment, he began his story.
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The sky was a bruised purple. Smoky clouds churned. Swells of water crashed upon the rocky shore of Galilee. Anchored boats dipped violently, pitching up and down. Raindrops, fat and warm, pelted the earth, poking wet fingers into the soil. The smell of the lake, ripe with fish, traveled on the current. The wind howled more like a beast than wind though the tombs.
The howl filled my ears with fear that traveled throughout my body. Something beyond the range of my eyes was coming to my shore. I knew it, because they knew it. The fiends that feasted on my soul, wiggling like maggots behind my eyes. Something was coming and they were scared.
I hid in the back of the tomb, crouched against the rough-cut walls. Along either side, bore into the rock, were 3 x 3 squares. From these squares, skulls frozen in perpetual silence screamed. The black eye sockets stared at me; toothy grins illuminated with each burst of lightning. I covered my face, blocking out their condemning stares. But covering my eyes did nothing to protect me from the beings that inhabited my flesh.
What filled my mind with screams and my body, bursting from within my skin? I felt them squirming inside me, rolling and twisting in fear of what was coming on the water. My thoughts, never my own, were always overrun with the shouting of them that plagued me day and night. Screaming I squeezed my head between my hands, so hard I thought I would burst my skull. But those who tortured my thoughts and my body laughed. Their mirth filled my mind, blotting out my own thoughts. I ran from the tomb into the storm to escape the roar and the eyes of the dead. It felt like squirming worms in my bowels. I saw them rippling under my skin. I reached to find a rock, sharp and jagged, and I plunged it into my belly. Hot sticky blood leaked from my flesh. I used the rock, now slippery with my own blood, to cut it again. Line after line of blood I dug into my gut. I wanted my captors and my bowels to spill on the rocks of the graveyard. I wanted to fall where I stood and sleep. I did not want to face another moment of my agony. I fell to my knees, the rock rolled from my grip. I lifted my face to scream into the angry churn of clouds above me. Would I ever be free of the devils that fed on my entrails, munching away at me? Would there be anything left of me when they had finished their feast?
I sank to the ground and sobbed, the rain mixing with my blood pooled in the crevasses. Then as quickly as the storm had come, it vanished. The darkness fled and the rain clouds evaporated, and rays of sun began to warm me. I pulled myself to stand and looked out over the lake.
There a lone boat floated on the still waters. A man, his hands spread out, stood at the bow. Behind him several men huddled. Like scrolls the clouds rolled back, retreating, leaving behind blue sky and the cry of waterfowl. The boat floated effortlessly to the rocky shore as if guided by an unseen hand.
The man that stood at the bow stepped from the vessel. When his sandals trod on the shore, those that squatted within me began their tormented screaming again. But this time it was different; they were wailing not to torment me, but for themselves. My torturers now seemed to be the ones frightened and recoiling. The shrieking filled my thoughts, and I felt myself losing hold of reality. I struggled to hold on. I focused on the man from the boat, and he looked up to me on the rocks above.
Who was this man that sent my captors scurrying about my flesh? I leapt from my ledge among the dead of Geresenes. Naked, dirty, and colored with the red of my blood, I ran to him. Collapsing at his feet, I tried to speak but only screams and wails escaped my lips. Gagging, I tried again. It was not my voice that emitted from my throat. It was the voice of those that inhabited me.
“What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, don’t torture me! Have you come here to torture me before the appointed time?” The voice clawed up my esophagus.
The men that were with him began to murmur to each other. What a spectacle I must have been. I knelt at the feet of a stranger. My body quivered with all those that shared my flesh. My eyes bulged, and I gagged on the words of the demons. They screeched and begged for this man’s mercy.
The man, the one called Jesus, turned my face up. Our eyes met. In that instance, I felt the grip of my captors loosening. The dark veil that had sequestered me parted. His gaze caused them to recoil.
I knew that he was not speaking to me but to the ones within.
Jesus asked, “What is your name?”
“Legion,” came a terrible voice, dripping with venom. “For we are many. Do not send us to the abyss before the appointed time. Do not torture us!”
A unified chorus of tortured, earsplitting shrieks emitted from my mouth. Those that had gathered around covered their ears from the high-pitched screeching. The sound bounced between the cliffs and seemed to reverberate, filling the entire world with a terrible evil screech.
Jesus, undaunted by the low simmering hisses and moans, continued to gaze into my eyes. I knew that he saw me. It had been years since anyone had seen me. Yes, my nakedness…many had been witness to the pitches of insanity as I struggled against the Legion. Many had seen me led through the town in shackles carrying their spittle. But today, this man called Jesus saw past all that and looked at me. Not my nakedness, not my filth, not my demons; he saw me.
A calm washed over me like cool water. I looked back into those eyes. Those eyes that penetrated years of madness, filth, and consuming anger. The eyes of the one who had come to save me. Tears of relief spilled from my eyes.
My captors continued to beg for mercy from him, yet he said nothing.
Those that were on the boat with him cautiously closed in tighter.
The voices crawled up my throat and spat, “Send us among the swine; allow us to go into them.”
The crowd around him turned to the herd that fed on the hillside. The men that tended the pigs had made their way to the group that stood on the beach. Their curiosity drew them closer, and they listened, watching. Waiting. They marveled at the site of the demoniac of Geresenes kneel before Jesus of Nazareth.
Jesus nodded and I felt the demons take leave. My body suddenly returned to me but felt strange, and I struggled to rise. The fog that had kept me lost within my own mind began to dissipate. I began to remember who I was and who I had been. In Jesus’ eyes, I knew who I was.
Beyond on the hillside, the squeals of the swine filled the air. They turned in a close screaming pack. Then they charged toward the lake. The men that had come to satisfy their curiosity turned and began cursing as they were running to the pasture. There was nothing that be done and the swine toppled over one another, crashing into the water. Pink bodies hit the water with an audible succession of splashes. Soon the squealing that had peeled between the cliff and the tombs subsided. On the waves, the bodies of 2,000 swine bobbed. The men shook their fists, shouted threats, and ran for the nearby village.
Jesus lifted me and walked me to the water. I waded into the cool clean water and bathed. Years of filth and blood ran off my body. I returned to the rocky shore and hesitantly one of his followers handed me clothing and sandals. The onlookers marveled at the injuries, now sealed
The shackles that had hung from my wrist sprang open, hitting the rocks with a sharp clatter. I cried and laughed at once. Jesus clasped his hands on my face and smiled. His eyes danced with delight and love. It was as if he had been waiting for this very moment with me.
I sat on a rock. I gazed up at the craggy trail that led to the tombs. There, I had made my home with the dead. Behind me Jesus stood and began to speak. I turned to hear his words. The others that had been with him gathered with me. Jesus began to teach. I hung on to his every word. It was as if I was hearing a sermon for the first time. I understood what he was saying, and I knew that this was no mere man. I knew then why the demons that had squatted in me were so afraid. This was no man; he was the son of God. Not the gods of my youth but the one true God, the creator.
Soon his teaching was interrupted by the screaming of the villagers. Their shouting filled the air, and the angry mob ran up to us. Jesus’ men parted and the mob stopped a few feet away. They looked from me and then to one another. Disbelief melted into fear on their faces, and they began to demand that we leave. Violently, they shook their staves and sticks at us. They began to scream at Jesus, demanding that he leave. I recognized those screams and quickly stood to join Jesus and his men in the boat. As I entered the water, Jesus turned to me. His face was kind, his touch soft.
“You cannot go with me. Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” Fear swelled into my chest and then my eyes met his and I knew. I knew that I had to go and tell my story to anyone that would listen. I would return to Decapolis, to the city of my birth, Hippos. I would tell how Jesus set me free. He released me from the captors. On the shore, the villagers shouted and screamed as the boat floated out of their reach. I turned and headed back up the pathway. But not to the tombs, I was leaving death behind.
I returned to my home city and shared with everyone about how Jesus had healed me. I told them how Jesus was not just a prophet or man, but he was the son of God. Only God would have power over the wind, storms and seas. Only God can draw out demons and cast them where he wanted. But more than all that he did, the reason he did it is the most important. He did it because he loved me.
I am now free.
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A few thoughts:
I have always found the testimonies of Luke and Mark of Jesus’ omnipotence in this incident to be amazing. First, we see Jesus calming this storm in Matthew 8:23-27. A storm so fierce that the disciples cry out fearing their death. I often wondered if the Legion conjured this storm. Did these demons do it to keep Jesus away from the demoniacs and the region? Without doubt they had established a strong hold in the area, terrorizing the inhabitants. In the book of Matthew, there is reference to two demoniacs. I do not believe this is a contradiction but rather proof that the area was plagued with demonic activity.
The torture of this man is a graphic representation of what many people suffer. Millions of people struggle with addiction, confusion, fear and anxiety. The depiction of this man is a glimpse into the mind of mental illness.
As you read the descriptions of what the demoniac was going through, you see similarities of what we see today. This man was abused by his village, exiled, tortured with thoughts of death, isolation and self-harm.
(If you know of anyone suffering from addiction, suicidal thoughts or other forms of mental illness, get them help. There are many organizations in your local community that can help.)
Another piece of interest is that the hillside was populated by pigs. Two thousand to be exact. Pigs were considered an unclean animal. Jews would not have raised them. Interestingly, there was a Roman garrison in the area. This particular division had a boar as their mascot. This was not unusual, several garrisons used images of boars and pigs on their banners.
Roman soldiers and garrisons raised pigs as their primary meat source. It is reasonable to suggest this particular herd belonged to the Roman garrison in the area. Maybe the garrison near Capernaum. This would explain the fear and anger of the townspeople when the pigs ran off the cliff. The town may have relied on the Romans for their livelihood.
In my research for this piece, I learned that the Roman’s had several gods, including many water gods. Isn’t it interesting? A herd of pigs belonging to the nearby garrison would dive off the cliffs to the water below. Could this have been another example of Jesus’ omnipotence over their gods? I think it is significant.
This one event demonstrated Jesus’ omnipotence in every area. He demonstrated his power over the elements by calming the storm, and the spirit world by casting out the demons.
More importantly, Jesus demonstrated his omnipotent love. A love that will conquer all obstacles to get to those he loves. No matter who you are. No matter what you have suffered. No matter the issues in your life that seem hopeless, Jesus can and will save you.
Typist for Jesus
Mustard Seeds, Modern Parables 