The Ex-Demoniac’s Testimony
(As I read Mark 5:1-20 last week, it struck me that the story called for a testimony. That is, after all, what Jesus asked from the man who’d been healed. “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” I began asking why the man was living at a cemetery; and in that question I imagined some overlap with my own story.)
The Ex-Demoniac’s Testimony
Most people can’t imagine moving to a cemetery. But I didn’t move there. Not really. I migrated there. I guess I just found myself there more and more. At first when my daughter died, I just visited there. But over time, my life back in Damascus seemed futile. People wanted me to get on with my life. “You’ll have other children,” they assured me. They told me that people have to get over their grief and press ahead, letting time do its work. And then that tomb on the eastern bank of the Sea of Galilee – well, that seemed real. It felt like I was guarding my little girl, like I was refusing to leave her in her suffering. I didn’t WANT my grief to end because that felt like the end of memories of her laughter. And her crying.
So at some point, I just left home. The Gerasenes cemetery became my new home. And there, in the vast expanse of my grief, the door to my soul was left ajar.
And like the legion of Roman solders that kept marching unwanted into our region, another Legion entered my heart. To put it bluntly, hell came goosestepping into my life.
Almost immediately, I couldn’t tell where I ended and the demons began. They tormented me. They deluded me. They drove me to despair.
I became an animal, prowling around the nooks and crannies of those hills. I’ve heard tales since then of how I frightened all the mothers of the Ten Cities. They warned their children to never stray near the Gerasenes.
They warned about a bedeviled lunatic who was naked, who cut himself with stones and who would cry out day and night. It sounded like urban legend; but this one checked out. It was true. I was your worst nightmare.
A few times, the mothers shoved the fathers out the door with their weapons and their chains to come bind me to protect their families. But nothing that could chain me was as powerful as the evil that was in me.
I came to these tombs to lament my daughter’s death. Now I couldn’t wait for my own death. I begged these unclean spirits to let me pass.
And then one day . . . I looked out on the lake and a boat was coming. They apparently didn’t know about the madman that you were supposed to avoid.
When they saw me, I expected to see the quickest about-face in history. But one of the Jews got out of the boat and began walking toward me. I’m still astounded. He was a Jewish teacher; I was an unclean man in an unclean place with an unclean crowd of demons stirring inside.
When I saw him, I ran, I sprinted, and then I fell, pleading with him to remove my suffering. That voice that bellowed from inside me screamed: “WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME, JESUS, SON OF THE MOST HIGH GOD? IN GOD’S NAME DON’T TORTURE ME!”
This Jesus looked at me – without fear and without repulsion – and he asked, “What is your name?”
That voice that overwhelmed me answered, “MY NAME IS LEGION. FOR WE ARE MANY.” Then that voice – the voice of these unclean spirits – began begging him not to send them out of the area. “SEND US AMONG THE PIGS. ALLOW US TO GO INTO THEM.”
Then, in an instant, hell’s demons fled. I watched in amazement as two thousand pigs stampeded off a steep bank into the lake.
The last thing I saw was the people who tended the pigs running in all directions, undoubtedly to tell people what had happened. No doubt they were frightened – and a bit upset about their livelihood.
While they were running, while chaos was breaking out all around . . . I was sane. For the first time in a long time. “So this is what sanity feels like,” I thought to myself. I’d pretty much forgotten. I did the one thing that made the most sense. I got dressed. With each garment of clothing I slipped on over my scar-ridden body, I realized how naked my life had been.
I couldn’t wait to see some of the people who’d known me as a scary mad-man. They’d be overjoyed to see my good fortune.
Or so I thought. Because when they came back, there were the same, familiar looks etched on their faces. Sheer fear. I guess anything they couldn’t explain frightened them. As a man who couldn’t get past his grief, I frightened them. As a Legion-possessed, self-mutilating naked lunatic, I frightened them. And now, as a man who’d been healed, I scared them as well.
They begged Jesus to leave. And I begged him to go with him. “This will be wonderful,” I thought. I’ll follow him wherever he goes. He’ll never leave my sight.
And then perhaps the most perplexing part of all. He told me I wasn’t going with him. “GO HOME TO YOUR OWN PEOPLE,” he said. “GO BACK AND TELL THEM HOW MUCH THE LORD HAS DONE FOR YOU.”
He didn’t tell me to enter the priesthood. He didn’t tell me to preach the good news around the world. He simply asked me to go home, to return to the Decapolis and to report on what had happened to me.
Which is just what I’ve been doing. No big fanfare. No book deals. No TV appearances. I’m just telling people what the Lord has done for me.
Let the weak say I am strong.
Let the poor say I am rich.
Let the blind say I can see.
It’s what the Lord has done in me.
- 10/19/08, Mike Cope
Well said, Mike.
I think sometimes we forget just how compelling and dramatic the stories in the Bible are.
May God bless you.
Mike,
Very powerful message.
I’ve often thought about this man’s cleansing but I’ve never considered his perspective to the degree that you described here.
And I agree with what Ken said.
Thanks for bringing that to life Mike. How great to hear with new ears. We really have been redeemed from the pit.
Okay, but I have to confess this too. As I was reading, I kept having visions of Jeff Walling acting this out and while I know it is not funny, couldn’t help but be amused by the visions in my head.
Years ago, I heard Jim Hackney preach this text about “George”. Few sermons have captivated my attention and touched my heart like Hackney’s. Reading your “testimony” again draws me into a text; more than that, draws my heart closer to Jesus. Thank you.
Mike,
After your email response, I decided to tell a small part of my story.
As a preschooler, I had no religious exposure. As a matter of fact, I was 24 before I ever saw the inside of a Bible.
My childhood was dominated by neglect (My alcoholic father wasn’t able to hold down a job, so we often were without utilities and we moved frequently)
Those days were filled with fear (my mother was hospitalized with mental illness three times during my young life – her erratic and cruel behavior was terrifying)
I was troubled by these things in my young life and I remember hiding under the porch, peering out through a small opening, trying to make sense of everything.
One afternoon, a neighbor began talking to me. She began to tell me about someone named Jesus and how much Jesus loved me and would always love me.
I listened, mesmerized, and immediately envisioned a very long knotted rope that began in heaven and reached all the way down to ME.
ME!
I was about four years old and in my mind, I reached up and grabbed hold of that knot on the rope. I knew that as long as I would grab on, Jesus would help me. I think we moved shortly after because I never remember seeing that neighbor again.
I still grab on to that rope during times of struggle and He still helps me.
Never forget that the smallest kindness you do for a child may be a significant factor in their life.
I know you realize this. My story is just another example.
Never let go of that rope but even more, be aware The Lord nver lets go of you.
I was in the Highland assembly yesterday morning…very powerful and glad I can “hear” it again.
What a powerful story, Mike. I pray I never have to go through such pain with one of mine and that if I do, I will remain faithful and relevant. I get it, but then again I don’t and I hope I never have to.
Mike, due to illness I was unable to be at Highland yesterday. But thanks to the wonderful telephone ministry I was able to “attend” to commune with y’all. Your sermon, story-telling brought tears to my heart and to my eyes. Powerful? Yes! New insight? Yes! But more than that it brought this story and yours to life for me. Truly God answered your prayer for the gift of preaching certainly was with you. Praise Him!
Thank you, Mike. You opened the door to healing while in great pain. What a blessing, dear preacher/pastor-teacher/friend – what a blessing!!
Keep telling you story!
-Rex
Mike – you have a special blessing from God of Bible teaching. Thanks!
Ooo – I like this!
-Wes
Mike:
You know, we don’t all have such dramatic testimonies. I used to think that because I didn’t, I really did not have anything to offer. I wanted to be able to wow people with God’s overwhelming transformative power. I have always been transfixed by the stories of people whose lives have been so obviously and genuinely changed by the grace of God. Like the demoniac’s. But now, it is slowly dawning on me that God’s grace and power to change lives happens in just the right degree, no matter where a person is spiritually, to effect that person in his/her world to the ultimate glory of God. Some have dramatic conversions, some slowly and almost imperceptibly change and impact people for God in very quiet ways. I would love to be a dramatic story that people would be wowed by and turn to God as a result. But that is not where God has called me. And I realize among other things, that it has been a pride issue for me. So, as Paul would say, His grace is sufficient.
Thanks Mike for the post.
God bless
Mike-
At first glance of the title of this post, I shrugged it off and moved on down the blog roll. But today I came back to it and read it. And it blessed me. Thank you-
Jason
Eddy,
Thanks. I hesitated, checked with Mike, and then posted. You never really know the extent of the ripples that spread from sharing the Gospel
Vicky
Absolutely stunning! Brilliant!
Love you, Mike.
I gotta think Jesus was intentional about going there……..to save one of his children. I don’t think it was by accident he landed at that particular spot on the sand. That is reassuring to me.
Thanks for that gift, Mike!
DU
Thank you for this moving post. Very inspirational!
I think the townspeople are a sad part of this story. They had accommodated evil for so long, but had no room for Jesus. They were even more uncomfortable with him than they had been with the demons.
You would think it would have been the opposite, but I wonder how often this is really true of people in any age.
Great post.
This reminds me of a sermon I once heard about spending time in a pit. Sometimes we fall in a pit by accident. Sometimes we are pulled into a pit. And, Sometimes we jump into a pit of our own accord. I’ve used parts of this sermon several times while involved in jail ministry. The stories that are shared about times spent in pits are amazing. Not to mention the inmates stories.
At times I catch myself feeling sorry for those whose life has gone according to plan.
Great sermon and material. It is interesting that a system no matter how unhealthy will put up with some much and resist change.
http://www.matthewsblog.waynesborochurchofchrist.org
I really enjoyed that. Thanks.
This was powerful, Mike. Thanks for sharing.
thanks for blessing us, friend.
The book mike, the book