Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

His heart sank at the disappointing words. He wouldn’t be going. As much as he wanted to spend every waking minute for the rest of his life in the physical presence of Jesus, the answer was “no.” He couldn’t go across the water to Galilee. He needed to stay there. Stay at home. Stay with the fearful people who had brusquely escorted Jesus back to His boat. Remain with those folks who had known him before. Settle in among those who were regarding him curiously and treating him cautiously. Live with the skeptics who were still waiting for him to switch back to what he had been before Jesus’ arrival–a crazy man, possessed by demons, haunting the tombs, terrifying the town. 

When Jesus first showed up at the dock in the Gadarenes, the demons plaguing the man had flipped out. Although no one else seemed to recognize Him, they certainly did. By name and reputation. They knew His name. They knew His power. They knew they were no match for either. And they were terrified. Using the man they inhabited for cover, the demons came racing out to the beach in an effort to mitigate damages. Call Jesus off. Stop Him from doing what they knew He would do. It hadn’t worked. None of their whining had changed the outcome. Doing what only God could do, Jesus called them out and sent them packing, bringing relief to the tormented man. Relief he had wanted for so long, cried for it in moments of lucidity.  He wanted to be a normal human being. Bathe. Dress. Live respectably. Speak intelligently. Act rationally. It had all been lost in hopelessness before Jesus came. 

Their initial encounter was confronting. Rarely did people in such rough condition come to Jesus. To begin, they were clothed. Always physically, sometimes spiritually. This man wasn’t. Not physically or spiritually. He was naked. Shockingly so. His skin was so darkly tanned one could barely tell where the dirt stopped and skin began. His hair hung in matted tangles around his shoulders. He smelled. Horribly. His fingernails were long and dirt-encrusted. His eyes were glassy, his thoughts and words obviously not his own. Most people would have shied away from him. Ignored his presence. Turned their back on his predicament. Not Jesus. When the man found himself unceremoniously thrown at His feet, Jesus didn’t back up or step away. No. Jesus stepped right into the middle of his mess and refused to leave until they could go together. 

Sitting calmly, showered, shaved, clothed, and fed, the previously possessed man sat at Jesus’ feet holding up his end of an intelligent conversation. Listening. Learning. Soaking up every word. The townspeople were in awe. They couldn’t believe what had happened. A few hours ago, they were once again warning their teens to stay away from the tombs, tucking their little ones tightly into their skirts as they walked down the streets, and furtively keeping an eye in every direction in case he decided to come into town. Yet here he was. In town. With them. Acting properly. Looking normal. Human, even. They were flabbergasted. And more than a little freaked out. 

That fear was the reason he couldn’t go with Jesus. Not his. Theirs. The people were so scared of Jesus’ power that they came and asked Him to leave. So anxious were they for His egression, they basically escorted Him back to the boat, saw Him on board, and waited until it was underway. They didn’t wait to hear Him speak. Didn’t stop to allow Him to heal anyone. Didn’t give Him the opportunity to bless their children. Didn’t let Him do anything more than He had already done. They weren’t ready for more, weren’t ready to listen. Not to Jesus. But Jesus knew they would eventually listen. To him. The broken man Jesus had fixed. He was one of them. He belonged there. Lived there. Many had known him all his life. As uncomfortable as things had been when he was possessed and roaming the tombs, he was still one of them. His now healthy, healed self brought communal relief, not consternation. His home was now his mission field. He needed to stay there and tell his story. The story of amazing grace, redemptive love, and unfathomable deliverance. (Luke 8:26-39)

The Bible doesn’t tell us exactly how that man went about sharing his story. Luke simply writes that he proclaimed what Jesus had done throughout the entire city. Admittedly, I would like a little more detail. I have some questions. Did he face skepticism? Were people uncomfortable around him? Did it take a while for them to open their doors, their ears, their minds to what he had to say? Unfortunately, we will never know those things, but there is one thing of which we can be certain. Just as every other delivered and redeemed soul is tasked with doing, that man had to get up every morning, get dressed–physically and spiritually–and get to the work Jesus left him to do. Living like Jesus. Loving like Jesus. Telling the story of Jesus. Just like we are all called to do.  

You see, it wasn’t just the released man Jesus called to work for Him. He called everyone who has been ransomed from the power of evil, redeemed from sin, released from bondage, and resurrected to life in Christ Jesus. You. Me. We have all been tasked with sharing Jesus in our families, our communities, our world. It was His final directive to the disciples before He ascended to the right hand of the Father. They were to go and share the story of Jesus throughout the known world. Make Jesus’ followers of all people, everywhere. Teach them to walk in His ways. Remember that no matter the outcome, the fallout, the persecution that may come, God’s Spirit would always be with them. But this was their moment, this was their time. Time for them to get up, get dressed, and get busy. It is our time, too. (Matthew 28:19-20; Acts 1:8; Colossians 4:2-6; I Peter 3:15)

Through all the tragically dark times in history, few have been so blatantly marked with apathy, complacency, and spiritual mutiny than ours. From where we stand, looking out over our society, our world, it seems the darkness is winning the battle against the light. All around us, people are choosing conformation to the world over transformation by Jesus. It is terrifying. It is disheartening. It is proof that the return of Jesus is closer than it was when we first came to faith in Him. It is a call to all of us to wake up, get up, put on Christ, and get busy doing God’s work. It is a time when the words of Paul to the church at Rome echo in our ears, resounding with both urgency and importance.   

Rightly believing that every day brought them closer to the return of Jesus Christ and concerned that complacency and apathy were creeping in, Paul commanded them to wake up. They couldn’t afford to sleep. They couldn’t allow themselves to be lulled into the darkness of the world. They needed to get up and get dressed. Clothe themselves in Christ. Put on the armor of God. Swathe themselves in light. Then go out and get busy showing and sharing Christ in a continually darkening world. If they didn’t, if they failed to stand against the darkness of the world, the world would try to cram them into its mold. Take them places they had no business being. Tempt them to engage in immoral habits. Encourage them to soft-sell sin, make allowances for evil, slowly embrace the darkness enveloping their society.

It wasn’t going to happen on Paul’s watch. Not if he could help it. He wasn’t about to let the world come in and conform the church of Christ to their opinions and ideals. He didn’t want to see these people, so beautifully walking in the light of Christ, be overcome with the darkness of sin. So he sent them a list. An extensive list. One that outlines in detail how true christianity looks. Yet it is all summed up in the final verse of chapter 12, “Don’t let the darkness of evil overtake you and be your demise, instead, chase away the darkness of evil by being the light of good in the world.” (v. 21) In other words, get up and get dressed–not in physical finery, but in spiritual faithfulness–and get busy doing the work of God. (Romans 12 and 13)

At one point in each of our lives, we have all been in a position similar to the man in the Gadarenes. Filthy with sin, covered in shame, unable to help ourselves or anyone else until Jesus came and stepped into our mess. Redeemed our lives. Rescued our hearts. Ransomed our souls. He stayed with us in our place of doom and despair until we could walk out of it together. He clothed us in the righteousness of Christ and commanded us to go tell the people in our homes, towns, and communities what Jesus had done for us. Give Him glory. Sing His praise. Tell others that He could do the same thing for them that He did for us. 

Initially, we did so. Churches blossomed and grew. Community ministries were formed. Missions spread across the globe. True love of Christ was prevalent. It was amazing. For a while. Eventually, we became complacent, apathetic, spiritually stagnant. The excitement wore off. We stopped getting up as quickly as we used to. We didn’t put on the entire righteousness of Christ; instead, we picked and chose what we wanted to carry with us that day. Influenced by the opinions and ideals of the world, our vision became tainted with self-righteousness, laziness, arrogance, and greed. Social rhetoric turned our heads. We ignored the voice of God telling us to stick to the old paths, the righteous paths, and chose to endorse something more socially palatable. Diet gospel. Christian lite. Decaf Jesus. We stopped going out and talking about Jesus, living like Jesus, working for Jesus. We stopped fulfilling the one mission He left for us to do. Essentially, we stayed spiritually asleep, curled up in the blanket of self-service, lulled into a state of idleness by the ever-encroaching darkness of the world. (Jeremiah 6:16; Ephesians 4:24; 5:14; Proverbs 19:15, 24; 21:25-26)

We need Paul’s message to the Romans. Today. Right now. Spoken to us. We need a wake-up call that charges us to recognize the night is darkest before the dawn, and intimates that the return of Jesus grows ever closer even as the darkness of sin in our world becomes ever more suffocating. We need to be challenged to put on the whole armor of God, to be the light piercing the darkness, to stand in holiness and righteousness at a time when few seem to believe it necessary. We need to hear a cry, a call, a command to take off the old self and put on Christ, living like Him in thought, word, and deed. Every day. Because the command of Jesus to His disciples then stands for us now. Get up, get dressed, and get busy telling the true story of Jesus in every corner of your community, your country, your world. (Ephesians 2:10; 4:22-24; 6:10-18; Colossians 3:9-15; II Corinthians 5:17; Romans 12:2; 13:12-14; Ezekiel 18:5-9; Matthew 5:14-16; Galatians 5:16, 24)