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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   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!” 

Possessed Pigs

   The demons, now resigned to their fate, knew Jesus was about to evict them from the body and the mind of their victim. They knew the authority of Jesus’ word is supreme. But in a pathetic lust for self-preservation, they hoped to convince Jesus not to cast them into abysmal nothingness. In a loud voice, unified wail, they entreated, “Please do not cast us into the deep. Let us enter the pigs.”

 

   Just up the shore from the cemetery, a large herd of two thousand pigs foraged along the hillside, grunting and wallowing in the meadow’s muck. Their keepers, painfully aware of the madman’s threatening habits, always tried to track his location and maintain a safe distance. Today they were huddled together, straining their eyes to see what was transpiring with their nemesis down by the lake.

 

   Glancing first at the pigs and then back at the man before Him, Jesus said just one forceful word to the possessors: “Go!” With that, the wretched man gave one final, mighty convulsion-as if vomiting a cyclone from his belly-and then fell in a heap at the feet of the Rescuer.

 

   Then the horde of demons that had ravaged the man fell like hail onto the mass of pigs. Instantaneously, the entire herd was awash in panic and pain. Squealing and shrieking with a deafening roar, they began to stampede toward the cliffs rising above the lake. The horrified keepers, huddled behind a tree for protection, could do nothing but watch as the suicidal avalanche of scavengers plunged over the cliffs, tumbled down the sharp rocks, and splashed into the water.

 

   Then all was quiet and still, save for the stunned keepers. They crept cautiously to the bluff’s edge to peer in disbelief at the churning, crimson water below. They watched as the last few pigs twitched and then disappeared beneath the surface. Not even one survived.

 

   The keepers returned their gaze to the man they had feared-and to the One who had stood unwavering before him. They watched as Jesus let the now calm soul to the water’s edge and cleansed him. They saw that the shackles and chains that had once encumbered him were now, mysteriously, broken open and stern on the beach.

 

   Only when they saw Jesus take off His outer robe and place it over the naked man’s shoulders did they finally understand that the demons had gone from him-destroyed in their herd. Terrified and amazed, they fled to the surrounding towns and cities to recount the supernatural event they had witnessed.

 

   Before the morning was spent, nearly every person in the region gathered on the small beach to see firsthand the transformed man and his Benefactor. Still, an unexplainable fear kept them from venturing too close, so they gazed in amazement from afar at their visitors.

 

   The disciples, having brought the boat back to shore, sat with Jesus and earnestly spoke to the former demoniac, still robed with Jesus’ clothing. The man, who sat near his Savior’s feet, had a new glint of awareness and intelligence in his eyes, from which tears of gratitude fell, leaving joyful streaks on his cheeks.

 

   For more than an hour, the thousands of gawking spectators gaped at the small contingent gathered around the little fishing boat. The disciples, always wary, were unsettled by the menacing looks from some people in the crowd. They watched as a discussion between what appeared to be several prominent leaders from the surrounding communities grew increasingly animated. Though they could grasp only a few words being exchanged, because these people spoke Greek, they soon made out that the politicians were more upset than grateful. To them, the economic catastrophe brought about the death of two thousand pigs outweighed the redemption of the man who had terrified them all for so long.

 

 

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