Healed

We have been looking at the story of the demoniac, the man Jesus encountered in a cemetery who was possessed by (as it turns out, "many") demons. And we said we have to start by giving this guy credit for living with demons that would literally drive pigs off a cliff. Then, we said we don't really know what to with someone who knows how to handle their demons. We went on to say that the place to start is by letting our demons speak, by being honest about what we're dealing with. And we ended by seeing how our greatest battles often lead to our greater purpose. 

But I would be remiss, of course, in a Christian space, no less, if I did not say that I think that's the hard way. 

I mean, sure. Fighting the stigma, battling the demons, pushing through by sheer willpower, creating space for demons to speak, all the things. Great. Yeah. 

But Jesus speaks a word and the demons are gone. 

And, we have to add, the man didn't even have to say anything. The man didn't ask to be healed. The man didn't beg for the demons to be gone. The man never declared belief, or even "help my unbelief," to Jesus. Not a peep. 

He simply let his demons drag him to Jesus, and Jesus did the rest. 

That's what I love about God. 

See, Jesus lands on the seashore, and this man comes running out of the cemetery, screaming at Him. We're told the screaming is from the demons. The demons brought the body of the man to Jesus so that they could confront Him. 

Have a problem in your life that wants to stand in the face of God and ask Why? Cool. Me, too. This guy, too. 

Then, Jesus engages. Jesus listens. Jesus speaks. Jesus casts out. Jesus heals. 

All the man had to do was let his demons take him there. 

The same is true for you and me. 

Listen, I've lived a long enough and hard enough life, even a long enough and hard enough life of faith, with (as it turns out, "many") challenges to know that just believing in Jesus, coming to Jesus, praying to Jesus, trusting in Jesus doesn't get us the instantaneous, speak-a-word healing that we wish was so easy. I'd be lying to you if I said it did. 

But I'm not lying to you when I say that it can. It can because Jesus can. Actually, He's the only one who can. 

Because I've lived a long enough and hard enough life, even a long enough and hard enough life of faith, to tell you with absolute certainty that I can't. 

Maybe you're there, too. Maybe you can't. Maybe you know that you can't. That's okay. Because even if you could, I gotta tell you - that's the hard way. 

The easy way is to just come to Jesus and let Him speak.

And He will. 

And maybe it's not instantaneous. And maybe there are no pigs diving off cliffs. And maybe there are no townsfolk shouting for Him to leave. But still, somehow, there you are, clothed and in your right mind...

And how could it be other than this?  

Purpose

It doesn't end there because at the end of the day, the demons are in the pigs, the pigs are in the ravine, the man is clothed and in his right mind, the chains are gone, the townsfolk are intimidated, and the whole story is about to go down in history as one more of Jesus's many miracles. 

And...that's what generally happens even now. 

When we address our demons by being in conversation with them, what happens is that we form a plan that usually doesn't just defeat them; it brings some measure of redemption, too. 

It's the inmate who faces his past, then turns around and starts leading an accountability group in the prison. 

It's the addict who gets clean, then goes to work in a rehabilitation clinic as a peer counselor. 

It's the anxious person who finds peace, then becomes a non-anxious presence in the lives of others. 

It's the assault victim who finds their strength and becomes a court-appointed advocate for others. 

It's the person who attempted to take their own life, then mans the hotline that answers the calls of others in the same mindset. 

Over and over again, we see it in the world around us...and, by the grace of God, even in our mirrors. Our demons, given the chance to speak and to enter into a dialogue about their own fate, transform into our purpose.

The same was true for the demoniac, right back in our original story. He comes to the edge of the cemetery, his demons speak to Jesus, Jesus speaks to the demons, the demons run into the pigs, the pigs run off the cliff, the man gets dressed, and he wants to follow Jesus. He wants to spend the rest of his life walking around with this prophet, this teacher, this Messiah, as a living testimony to something incredible that happened to him. 

Jesus has slightly different plans for the guy, which is also how it sometimes work, but the end result is the same. He can't come with Jesus, but he can go back to his town. He can go back to his family and his job and his coworkers and the townsfolk, and he can keep telling his story. He can keep pursing his purpose.

Twenty minutes ago, he was afraid that he might always be known as that guy, but all of a sudden, he's about to spend the rest of his life (and the rest of human history) as that guy - the one with the demons who Jesus healed. 

Think about that for a second. This guy goes from an outcast, stigmatized, demon-possessed, naked man with a reputation to a clothed, sane man with a story...who will always and forever now be included. In the Good News, no less! His knocked down, dragged-out, darkness-shrouded, demon-shrieking story is part of the Gospel...the best story ever told. 

And that's still happening today. 

Our demons become our purpose. Our reputation becomes our story. Our struggle becomes our witness. 

Ain't it grand? 

Honest

So what do we do with our demons? With the things that are bigger than us, that leave us feeling exposed, ostracized, and fighting for our lives? 

We're pulling these reflections from the Gospel accounts of Jesus with the demoniac, with a man possessed by (as it turns out, "many") demons, living naked in a cemetery with chains hanging from his body, literally beating himself up while battling a darkness that would literally send pigs over a cliff. 

And if that's our reference point, then the first thing we have to do with our demons is...

Let them speak. 

Be honest about them. 

Give our struggles a voice. 

We're very busy trying to hide what we're going through, trying to be quiet about what we're fighting, wrestling in the dark and all by our lonesome.

But when Jesus steps out of that boat and is greeted by a naked, bruised, bleeding man in that cemetery, the man isn't the first one to speak. 

The demons are. 

The demons start screaming at Jesus, begging Him to leave. The demons start making noise about who they are. They throw the man into the kind of raging fit the townspeople have known him for; he looks like a freaking lunatic. That's what demons do. 

But recognize this, too: when Jesus starts speaking back, the demons start answering Him. 

The demons go from screaming about everything to responding to Jesus's questions. He speaks gently, but firmly. Who are you? What is your name? What are you doing? What's your goal here? The first thing we have to do is let our demons have the chance to answer these questions - to identify themselves, to be real about what's going on, to be honest about the situation. 

And - let me interject here - if you're someone who is trying to love someone who is battling their demons, the first thing for you to do is to listen. Let the demons speak. Ask a few meaningful questions, but let them do the talking. Put it all out on the table and let there be honesty and authenticity and transparency about the reality of the situation. 

Anyway, the demons speak, Jesus asks a few questions, the demons answer, and when the time comes for something to be done about the demons, it's not by power of might. It's not by force. It's a dialogue. 

Jesus wants the demons out of the man. The demons don't want to go just anywhere. There's a herd of pigs. That seems like a reasonable option. Let's do that. 

Listen, Jesus could have just been like, "No. Gone. Get out. Now." And the demons would have had to flee. But you know what He said somewhere else - that demons leave, then finding nowhere else to go, they come back to the place they left, seven times stronger. This guy doesn't have capacity in his soul for seven times stronger. 

Jesus could have commanded the demons to leave, but at this point, He was already in dialogue with them. They were having a conversation. And...our demons get to be part of our conversations. They get to be part of our figuring out what to do with them. The battles we're facing get to be part of the resolution to end them. 

We know that, right? By sheer force alone, we aren't winning. If we were, we'd have defeated our demons a long time ago. 

Rather, it has to be a dialogue. It has to be a conversation. It has to be listening and asking questions and it starts with letting our demons speak and being honest about the whole thing. 

But it doesn't end there, either.  

Afraid

We're giving credit where credit is due - to the demoniac who was living with both the stigma of his condition and (as it turns out, "many") demons who literally drove pigs off a cliff. And, of course, to you. And to everyone else who is living with demons they can't seem to overcome. 

That's where we start, but we can't end there. Because the story isn't over yet. 

And the story...doesn't end the way that you think it would. 

Because what we think would happen - what we would want to happen - is that the guy gets healed from his demons, he gets better, the townsfolk welcome him back with open arms, and he spends the rest of his life as living proof of what happens when you overcome your demons. 

But that's not what happens. 

Jesus comes along, speaks directly to the demons, casts them out into a herd of pigs, who then go careening off a cliff, and the man is suddenly left standing there, "clothed and in his right mind." 

And the people are terrified.  

In fact, the people are so afraid, they tell Jesus He has to leave. Now. 

And, well, what's up with that?

I think the same thing is up with that that's up with our culture today. I think everyone is intimidated by someone who knows how to handle demons. 

We celebrate the wins when we see them. Of course, we do. But there's something in us that sees the win and can't help but think of our own losses. We see the demons come out of the man, and we think of the ones we're still wrestling with. 

We see the addict get clean, but we can't shake the chains that still hold us back. 

We see the anxious person find peace, but something in us remains unsettled. 

We see the depressed person find purpose, but we aren't sure what we're supposed to do next with our own life. 

Seeing demons cast out reminds us of the things we haven't been able to rid our own lives of  yet, so there's something unsettling about being in the presence of someone who knows how to handle their demons. 

If they can do it, so can I, right? But I haven't been able to. So what's wrong with me? 

It's not really fear. It's shame. It's this sense that after being so strong for so long, after putting up such a good fight, after creating a reasonable facade that makes me look more functional than I am, all of a sudden, I'm standing in the presence of someone fully clothed and in their right mind, and I feel naked. 

So go on. Get. Get out of here. Get away from me. Because I haven't figured out what to do with my demons yet. I haven't been able to handle them the way you have. I'm still feeling the weight of these chains on my wrists. And I don't know what to do now except to ask you...

Please go away. 

Because those demons just killed an entire herd of pigs. Just like that. 

And I'm still afraid of what mine might do. 

Fight

Yesterday, we started looking at the story of the demoniac, the man Jesus encountered in a cemetery who was possessed by (as it turns out, "many") demons. 

And we started by giving this man the credit that he's due. He is one tough dude. 

Today, I want to ask you: 

Are you tougher than you get credit for? 

This guy lived with social ostracization, with judgment, with isolation, with the townspeople being afraid of this thing that afflicted him. He lived with demons that literally threw pigs off a cliff the moment they got the chance. He lived with the stigma and the fight. 

How about you? 

As far as we have come in our culture in addressing mental health, the truth is that we're still a long way from where we ought to be. There are many reasons for this, but those aren't important right now. They're not important because for every reason we can pinpoint to explain how it is that we're so far from where we should be, there's is someone wasting away in a cemetery, chains hanging off their limbs, beating themselves up for the life they're living. A life they didn't choose, but here we are anyway. (Did you know that in some versions of the story, the demoniac is literally known to be hitting himself, beating himself, scarring himself in that cemetery?) 

And listen, I get it - it can be exhausting to be compassionate. It seems like everybody is dealing with something, which feels like such a start contrast to the world we thought we knew growing up (those of us of a certain age), when mental illness and inner demons seemed to be uncommon problems. 

Oh, the stigma of the 80s and 90s! 

But that's kind of exactly the point: everybody is dealing with something. 

So let's start giving folks the credit they're due for making it this far. 

For making it through the isolation of fighting their battles alone. 

For making it through the ostracization of not having friends or even family to count on. 

For making it through the memories of a life that didn't used to be like this. 

For making it through the heartache of being cut off from the life they want to live. 

For making it through the stigma of being that person - you know, the one whose demons don't do such a good job of hiding. 

For living with the chains. 

For living with the screams.

For living naked and exposed, unable to hide what you're dealing with.  

For living with the feeling that they're completely out of control, but there's nothing they can do about it. 

...except keep willing themselves to live one more day.

And, oh yeah, for keepin' on keepin' on when they're fighting something that would have driven even the pigs off a cliff by now. 

Good on them. They're doing it. 

Can I say it? Good on you. You're doing it. 

Give yourself credit for that. 

Give the folks around you credit for that. 

Let's start there. 

But...don't stop there.