Jesus and the disciples are rowing their boat toward the shore—toward a region called the Gerasenes.
It’s Gentile territory—so it’s a place they’ve likely never been before and one they may already feel uneasy about.
To the Jews, Gentile lands were unclean and unholy—filled with pagan practices they found abhorrent—places best avoided.
As they near the shore, before they can even secure the boat, catch their breath, prepare a meal, or speak, their uneasiness is immediately confirmed:
Standing before them is a wild, deranged-looking man possessed by demons, glaring directly at them.
As the wild, deranged-looking man stared down Jesus and His disciples, I imagine the disciples glanced nervously at Jesus—the One who had led them there—and also thought to themselves, “We told You so. What else could You expect in a place populated with Gentiles and steeped in pagan rituals? It’s an unholy and profane place! Of course, something like this would happen—of course, there would be demons as soon as we get off the boat…”
Some of the disciples must’ve been thinking, “What a terrible place this is… why did we come here, again???”
But Jesus, undeterred, commands the demons to leave the man and enter a herd of pigs on the hillside.
Immediately healed and coming into his right mind, the man sits at the feet of Jesus, filled with gratitude and sighing in relief. There’s no telling for sure how long this man was afflicted by these demons—how long he endured this gruesome torment.
He’s filled with gratitude and sighs in relief… thanking Jesus…
But sadly, when the townspeople—his very neighbors—arrive to see what has happened, they demand that Jesus leave. And perhaps even more heartbreaking is this: they do not rejoice at the man’s liberation. They offer no thanks alongside his gratitude. They show no interest in sharing his joy.
How deeply disappointing and heartbreaking that must have been for this newly freed man. After all he had endured, not one person thought or cared to rejoice with him?
Imagine someone happily sharing that they’re in remission, only to be met with awkward silence.
Or someone cheerfully announcing they’ve been sober for six months—only to face lukewarm acknowledgment from neighbors and friends.
Imagine someone gladly sharing that their anxiety hasn’t flared up in weeks—only to be met with a blank gaze and a quick change of subject.
It’s disappointing and heartbreaking to celebrate alone—
especially after recovering from an illness, making progress in your life, or receiving good news about your health or a difficult situation. We want others to join us in our joy and celebration… not be cold-hearted, indifferent, or uncaring...
The man who was healed there on the shore must have, no doubt, felt upset—and discouraged—and maybe a bit heartbroken—
to have none of his neighbors even hint at sharing his joy,
not even take a moment to smile and show they cared about his new freedom—his liberation from his harrowing ordeal.
So, the man who had been healed seems to have only one option:
Go with Jesus.
Why should he stay when the very people who witnessed his liberation are now afraid of his Liberator—
and seem heartless toward his new freedom?
And besides all of that—perhaps the most painful reason to go with Jesus and leave this place is because he will now always be known and remembered by everyone in that region as the guy who had demons. Will they ever be able to move on?
Many of us know firsthand how hard it can be to escape our past—even those closest to us can have trouble forgetting the mistakes we've made or the things we failed to do.
Even the silly nicknames we earned as youth or children by our mischievous behaviors can cling to us, like name-brand labels that never go out of style.
Our blunders, we know, have a way of resurfacing—again and again—in the stories our friends tell—as we wonder if we’ll ever live them down…
Will they ever be able to move on? Will the family, friends, or neighbors of this man ever move on? The things they’ve seen are not easily dismissed from memory—it’s seared in their minds—
The entire city had seen this man’s demons—
seen him lurking among the tombs,
tearing off his clothing,
breaking shackles with shocking, unnatural strength,
and running wildly through the desert.
His condition was, no doubt, deeply disturbing and unsettling to watch.
His reputation, because of all this, had surely been ruined.
It wouldn’t be surprising if word had spread throughout the region about him:
“Don’t go near him.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“Stay away!”
“Let him dwell in the tombs.”
It would hardly be unexpected if the people had also devised cruel nicknames for him—and harshly embellished his condition just to incite ridicule and fuel gossip.
Would he not have been an easy target for mockery and demeaning chatter?
So what was left for this man in the region of the Gerasenes?
Did he even have a home there anymore? A future? Can he have a future in a place where he cannot escape his past?
The people are driving Jesus out—the very one who healed him. They’re indifferent to his newfound freedom and what hurts the most is that they’ll likely always remember him as the man who had those demons.
Would you stay?
Would you want to stay in a place like this?
Would you want to stay in a place that had seen you at your worst?
Would you still feel like you belonged? That you had a future in a place where you cannot escape your past?
Or would you be humiliated—uncomfortable—upset—having to look people in the eye, knowing they had seen all your demons and likely won’t ever forget?
It wouldn’t be easy to stay—living among these people and engaging with them daily would stir relentless thoughts:
Will I get over my embarrassment?
Will I ever truly be accepted again? Trusted again?
Will they ever see me without fear?
Will I ever shake the nicknames, the ridicule, the suspicious and disgusted gazes?
It would make perfect sense, then, for the man to go with Jesus—to join the other disciples and follow the One who had set him free—to join a new community—and set sail into a new future…
So, he begs Jesus—he begs Him. He doesn’t request—he begs—he really wants to go with Jesus and leave… he’s begging—please…
“Let me go with You. Let me leave this place forever…”
But Jesus tells him:
“Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.”
Go back and look into the faces and eyes of the very ones who saw your demons...
Who saw you living among the tombs—
tearing off your clothing, breaking your shackles with terrifying, unnatural strength, and running wildly through the desert.
Go back and look into the eyes of those who witnessed, in horror, your disturbing and unsettling antics.
Go back to the place where your reputation has been tarnished, where your past is impossible to hide—
and declare to them what God has done for you.
It would be so much easier for this man to go with Jesus and share what God has done for him with complete strangers, rather than returning home and proclaiming it to those who have seen his demons.
It’s not going to be easy—it’s going to be hard to go back home—it’s going to be challenging—it’s going to be a struggle—it’s not going to be comfortable or convenient…
But Jesus sends him back home—back to where they’ve seen all his demons…
Because…
Even if only some of the people welcome him back…
Even if some hear and truly receive what God has done for him... will this man’s home ever be the same?
Will it still be a place that tries to bind demons with chains—vainly seeking to control what cannot be restrained by human hands—
Will it still be a place that casts their demons into the tombs—to bury the problem far away and out of sight…
Or—could it become a new kind of place? A new kind of home—a transformed community with a bright future for all—that carries its demons—all its wounds, struggles, guilt, dishonor, disgraces, and sins—to the feet of the One who heals: the Lord Jesus Christ,
who longs to conquer every demon in every place they dwell.
Jesus may have sailed away from the Gerasenes, but He did not abandon the people there to their demons. Instead, He sent them their neighbor—once possessed, now free—to witness like no one else could, because sharing your testimony with those who have seen your demons carries a deeper, more transformative power: they will not only hear what God has done for you, but also see it for themselves through the very eyes that once witnessed those demons do their worst.
It’s easier to tell what God has done for you to strangers, but it’s more impactful to tell it to those who know and have seen your demons…
So don’t run from your past-
Go back...
Go back to the people and places that have seen your demons.
Go to those who have witnessed all your demons— your faults, your self-inflicted wounds, your dishonorable actions—your shameful mistakes, your darkest moments, your sins.
Go and declare to them what God has done for you, so they may hear and see what God can do for them. So that...
Together, you can build a new home—with a bright future—
and forge a transformed community into a place no one would want to leave,
and where many would long to be—
a holy place filled with the hope that, though demons may dwell, they shall never again prevail.
