How God Delivers the Desperate and Heals the Hopeless

Broken Chains

  Finding Peace for the Raging Soul

The Story of the Demoniac

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(Based on Mark 5:1-20 and Luke 8: 26-40.)

Jesus crossed the angry waves to make a madman whole. He who stilled the stormy sea can calm a raging soul.

Through the Storm

   It was so quiet that you could hear every tiny wave splash against the boat and every creak of the oars as the disciples took turns rhythmically rowing across the placid waters of Galilee. How vastly different from the howling conditions they weathered only an hour earlier.

    When they first embarked on their journey across the lake, the perfectly serene sunset promised them a gentle journey. The light southern breeze meant they could raise the sail, sparing them the arduous task of rowing. But about three miles into the voyage, at the very midpoint of their crossing, things changed rapidly.

   The light wind changed its direction, now sweeping down the mountains of Lebanon in the northwest. The sky also grew ominously dark with thickening rolling clouds that thundered their fury. Suddenly, the wind burgeoned into a howling gale with such speed that the men hastily lowered their sail for fear that it might tear-or, worse yet, that they might capsize!

   In the frightening tempest, the waves grew ever larger, as if some diabolical power was forcing them up from the deep right before the disciples’ eyes. Soon the walls of water began to break over the sides of their modest vessel, extinguishing their flickering lamp and threatening to swamp and sink their floundering craft. The disciples frantically groped for their small leather buckets to begin bailing, but the swirling water rose to fast.

   Soon these experienced sailors realized that their efforts would be futile. They recognized that without divine intervention, their situation was hopeless.

   Absorbed in their struggles to save themselves, they had all but forgotten Jesus, who was on board with them. Finally remembering their Lord in their helplessness and despair, they cried out, “Master! Master!” But the dense darkness hid Him from their sight, and the roaring tempest drowned out their voices. Had He been washed overboard! Were they all alone?

   Again, they called, but their answer was the shrieking of an angry blast. Their boat was sinking. At any moment, hungry, unforgiving waters would swallow them up.

   Then came a superheated flash of lightening, and they saw Him curled up on a cushion near the stern. Even as frigid water sloshed about Him, Jesus was sleeping soundly through the howling storm.

    Why was He sleeping? Perhaps He was so totally exhausted from the ceaseless ministry of the day that even the horrific chaos plaguing the boat did not rouse Him. Whatever the case, the disciples shook Jesus awake, shouting in amazement and despair, “Master, don’t you care that we are perishing?”  

   Jesus calmly sat up. It took only a moment for Him to assess the situation. Then, as the tempest still raged around Him and the waves crashed into the boat, Jesus stood to face the storm. Placing one hand on the mast to steady Himself, He lifted His other hand to the heavens as he had done so often when performing His deeds of mercy. As lightening flashed across the sky and illuminated His peaceful countenance, He spoke boldly to the angry sea.

   “Peace, be still.”

   As the last syllable left His lips, the storm ceased. The angry waves flattened. The dark clouds rolled away, revealing a diamond-studded sky. And the boat rested upon a serene, glassy sea.

   Turning to His disciples, Jesus sadly rebuked them. “Why are so fearful? How is it that you have no faith?” (Mark 4:40).

   In the dark, James methodically bailed the remaining water from the lowest point of the craft. Others rowed, rhythmically again, now that the storm was over. They all worked in a numb silence caused by a combination of fatigue, confusion, and awe-but mostly fear. They each wondered. What kind of man is this, One so unpretentious, yet who can speak and instantly transform a sea of madness into a sea of tranquility? Not only had He been perfectly calm in what could have been a lethal storm, but He had calmed the storm itself! Through the remainder of the night, nobody slept.

   Eventually, the eastern sky began to glow with the promise of an approaching day.

   Without speaking, Jesus glanced at Andrew, who was manning the rudder. Jesus pointed to an area on the eastern shore of the lake. Andrew began to move the boat as the Man who clamed the storm had directed him.

   Many of the disciples had spent much of their lives on the lake and knew every beach on the thirty miles surrounding it. But the storm had blown them far south that they had become disoriented. For a while, they couldn’t determine exactly which shore they approached, but through the faint light, they could make out a few features.

    Flanked by steep, rocky bluffs, a gently sloping hill afforded them a good landing site. The disciples were looking forward to building a fire to dry their saturated gear and shivering bodies. As they neared the shore, they could see that a hillside dotted with caves rose behind them. And then the shadowy forms of tombstones emerged from the mist. They were headed toward a cemetery. Philip spoke his fear with a word that sent shivers through them all: “Gadara!”

Encounter With a Lunatic

   The region of Gadara, also known as Decapolis, was established after Alexander the Great conquered the Jews. Shrines to Greco-Roman gods filled the surrounding cities, and Greeks and other Gentiles, some of them pig farmers, comprised most of the population. Revolted by both the idolatry and the unclean beasts, the Jews avoided this pagan lake district whenever possible.

   However, another reason for apprehension kept the Jews at bay: chilling stories of wild men, half beast and half devil, who roamed the shores. So, as they approached the dismal scene of ancient tombs and paganism, the disciples wondered why Jesus was directing them there. Yet, they dared not question the Man who could still a storm.

   Like a benediction of peace, the light rising sun began to illuminate the shore, and the Savior and His companions landed. As Andrew secured the boat, the other disciples followed Jesus up the beach to begin collecting pieces of driftwood for a fire.

   Shortly, Nathaniel paused from his task and looked about, his nose tilted to the wind. Grimacing, he asked, “What is that smell?”

   Thomas quipped, “Do you think it might have something to do with that herd of swine up on the hill?”

   But Nathaniel knew better. “No. I’ve smelled pigs before. This is different.”

    Just then, a terrifying shriek rang in the disciples’ ears. As they turned toward the horrifying noise that emanated from the cemetery, a sight that frightened them more than the fury of the tempest greeted their eyes. From some dark hiding place among the tombs, a naked madman-perhaps more wild beast than human-charged toward them as if intent upon tearing them to pieces.

   The petrified disciples, with nerves already worn thin by the terrifying experience of the storm, instinctively dropped their firewood and fled to their boat. Thrusting it back into the sea, they dived into it and began rowing furiously, slashing water in every direction. When they had put some distance between themselves and the shore, Andrew took inventory and noticed that Jesus was not with them. He had remained on shore.

   In their haste, the disciples had deserted their Master. But the One who had stilled the tempest, who had met and conquered Satan in the wilderness, had not fled before the furious madman.

   The disciples knew they had never seen a more hideous creature. Remnants of shattered chains shackled to his wrists and ankles shook violently. His bruised and bloodied flesh was torn-shredded by cuts he had deliberately made with razor-sharp stones. His eyes glared through strings of long, greasy hair caked with twigs and dirt, and his snarling mouth foamed.

   Is there any humanity left in this man? The disciples wondered from their safe distance. Or have the hordes of demons that now possess him completely blotted it out?

   As the deranged soul, gnashing his teeth, charged their Lord, He raised His hand toward the wild man in the same way He had gestured to the sea. And as if an invisible wall rose between them, the demonic could come no nearer. Though raging with fury, he stood helpless before the Master.

   Still, as contorted as was the face of this seemingly hopeless madman, Jesus could see a glimmer of pleading in his eyes.

   Before Jesus had even stepped onto the sandy beach, the terrified devils knew of His approach. They dreaded the likelihood that they would soon be evicted from their captured host. And despite all the hatred and fear these demonic personalities contained, somewhere deep down inside the victim the spark of a soul still faintly glowed.  

   With whatever fragments were left of this man’s reasoning powers he had overheard the desperate conversation of the cruel demons in his head. He learned from them who Jesus was, and that surely Jesus was the last and only hope for deliverance. As the demons roared, he threw himself down at the Savior’s feet.

   The worship posture of this unfortunate soul who wanted to cry out for deliverance humbled the demons within. Even so, they interrupted him with a loud shriek: “What have I to do with You, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I implore You by God that You do not torment me? (Mark 5:7).

   Jesus, ever eager to save the wretched, saw beyond the demons’ attempt to stifle their host. He glimpsed the yearning soul begging for deliverance. And in a majestic voice whose tones of divine authority could be heard across the water, Jesus commanded, “Come out of the man, Unclean spirit!”

   Just as the storm has responded immediately to Jesus, so the poor man’s body began to writhe and twist violently, as through a dozen alley cats were fighting in a burlap bag. The long series of spasms and convulsions showed that the furious demons were not going to release their victim without a struggle.

   Jesus then did something that He had never done before would ever do again. Suspecting that Lucifer himself was orchestrating this battle, Jesus asked the demons a question: “What is your name?” Of course, He who numbers the hairs of our head and calls all the countless stars by individual names knows even the name of every fallen angel.

   A wailing sound, one that human vocal chords could never produce, escaped from the man’s throat. Amplified as a thousand spirits shouted in unison, resounding as if emanating from deep within some great cavernous abyss, it chilled the blood of the disciples, still cowering in the boat. The demonic cry? “My name is Legion; for we are many!” 

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