Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It was hardly the greeting party they expected. The mangy, unkempt man racing from the graveyard and across the beach toward them was more than a little disconcerting! His hair was matted. His body visibly unwashed. Bruises circled his wrists and ankles, ranging from purple to brownish yellow, a clear indicator of recent attempts to restrain him with chains. Chains he’d broken to get free. His skin was marred with scars and scabs from incessant cutting. Some wounds still oozed. His desperate aloneness indicated how horrifically he’d terrified the town with his antics. Ridiculous strength. Constant outcries. Self-mutilation. They had cast him out. He wasn’t welcome there anymore. His only home was among the tombs, his only hope of solace with the dead.

Until the docking of this particular boat. He’d surely seen hundreds of boats come and go, scores of people disembark. Although there is nothing to indicate he ran to meet each arrival in search of help and hope, perhaps he did. Perhaps it was his normal behavior. Maybe his venture was spearheaded by curiosity. Perhaps, on this particular day, he was drawn to the docks by the siren song of grace, hope, and rescue available through Jesus Christ. Perhaps he sensed something different about this boat. Maybe he sensed this boat brought hope for his tortured soul, tormented by the unclean spirit. Maybe he realized It carried the answer to the puzzle of his disturbed lifestyle. Whatever reason took him there, it was the best decision of his life. The best day of his life. The best moment he would ever experience. This boat was different. It carried Jesus. 

And Jesus was the answer. The answer to the raging, cutting, horrendous indwelling of the unclean spirit that had ruled and ruined his life. As Jesus stepped onshore, He immediately rebuked the unclean spirit. No hesitation. No waiting to see if someone would plead on the man’s behalf. Just compassionate, immediate relief for the wretched man plagued by the legion of unclean spirits tormenting his soul and ravishing his body. Jesus’ ship had docked. Hope had come. Salvation had been delivered. A rescue had been enacted. The man’s future was finally colored an encouraging hue. 

Or was it? The townspeople’s reactions were varied. They were amazed, yes, but they were also afraid. Their skeptical minds couldn’t believe what they couldn’t conceive. Was it real? Could it be true? Had Jesus really evicted the evil spirit and installed the peace of God? The evidence appeared to be seated in front of them, properly clean, clothed, and with clarity of thought. But it still seemed too good to be true. How long would it last? What if he relapsed? What if it was all just a show, a sham? Could they truly trust this change? 

And what about their pigs? Why had Jesus sent the unclean spirit into their pigs? Their livelihood had just blindly rushed over the edge of a cliff! What else was He going to do? What else would He change? And what would He require of them if He stayed? The fear was overwhelming. Greater than any smidgen of belief in the omnipotence of God they had just seen demonstrated. It ruled their hearts, making them ask Jesus to leave before He did anything else. 

Being here now, knowing all we know, hindsight being so much clearer than foresight, I still find myself questioning the intelligence of their petition. Why would they ask Him to leave? What part of cleansing and rejuvenation was so objectionable they didn’t want it in their town? What were they afraid of? Were they simply too afraid of His unmatched power? Did their fear stem from not knowing someone like Him existed? Or was it something more human? Is it possible they were simply afraid of the changes they would need to make in their own lives if Jesus stayed long in their village? Were they, like our current society, so much in love with their own ways they couldn’t bear the thought of the changes allowing Jesus to stay would surely bring? I don’t suppose it matters. What has been done is done. They asked Him to leave. And He did.

The second scene on the dock must have been nearly as disconcerting as the first. The newly released man so badly wanted to go with Jesus. He tried desperately. Begged. Wheeled. Cajoled. Unfortunately, the answer was negative. But Jesus didn’t leave him without something to do, He left him with a mission. As the man stood in the spot of his redemption watching the departing ship grow tinier and tinier, Jesus’ parting command broke through the disappointment to echo in his ears, “Go home. Tell everyone about the mercy and power of the Lord. Show them how completely I have changed your life. Be a witness for Me in a place that asked Me to leave.”

And he does. He goes back to town, mingles with the people. He tells and retells his God-story every chance he gets to anyone who shows even remote interest. He lives his life. Clean. Clothed. Clear-headed. For those who would rather not hear his story, he lives it out in front of them, living proof that the power of God delivers from all evil. But he didn’t stop just in his hometown. No. He kept going. When he had saturated one town with the knowledge of God’s amazing, rescuing power, he moved on to the next, making his round throughout the entire Decapolis. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He had a mission to fulfill, a story to tell. A story of amazing mercy and grace that saved a wretch like him. (Mark 5:1-20)

It is impossible to miss the correlation between this man’s story and ours. We, too, were once deeply steeped in sin, slaves to the evil one, beyond rescue, beyond hope, lost causes, wretched souls. If you think you were ever better than that, think again. Jesus didn’t come to die for a bunch of good-enough people, a bunch of righteous people. He came to die for sinners. For you. For me. For everyone. He came to dig you out of that pit of sin, to rescue your life, to ransom your soul. That is why Jesus came. We were in the same hopeless situation as the scary guy on the beach of the Gerasenes. (Luke 5:32; Romans 5:8; Romans 3:23; I John 1:8-10; Titus 2:11; John 1:12; John 10:10)

Then Jesus stepped in. He came and offered His life, His blood, His salvation to a bunch of people so deeply steeped in their sin a rescue seemed impossible. But He did it. They abused, misused, rejected, and abandoned Him. He still paid salvation’s price. Even though He knew some would never accept His gift of love and grace and mercy, He offered it anyway. When their fears of not being in control, of having to change, of not getting their own way made them ask Him to leave them alone, He respectfully did. But He left those of us who accepted His life-changing salvation with the same mission He gave the man in the Gerasenes. Go. Show. Tell. (Matthew 28:19-20; Acts 1:8; Matthew 7:16-20) 

It is our foremost calling. Not a vocation. Not a job. Not a hobby. A mission. A Heavenly calling with an eternal outcome. Our obedience is imperative. In a society working overtime to evict God and His ways from their midst, we are called to go and tell them about the change grace has made in our lives. Where they have pushed Him out, shoved Him aside, told Him to leave, we are to calmly walk in and bring Him with us. Show Jesus in how we dress, act, talk, live. Carry Him along in our business dealings, our sportsmanship, our social conduct. Take Him with us on every outing, every date, every event. Live loudly for Jesus in a world that has kicked Him out. (Romans 1:16; I John 2:6; Galatians 5:22; Matthew 5:48)

Maybe you will have the opportunity to use words to tell your story. I hope you do. I hope you get to tell your story of grace and mercy and redemption verbally to everyone you meet. However, if you are in a situation that does not allow or encourage you to speak openly about your amazing rescue, I hope you live it out just as loudly as words. I hope you show Jesus’ love to those around you. I hope you make choices that tell of convictions deeply rooted in the Word of God. And I hope that, when people ask about the difference in you, you will be ready at a moment’s notice to tell them your God-story. I hope you go out and live for Jesus, act like Jesus, follow Jesus. I hope you show them Jesus so when they ask questions, and they eventually will, you have the opportunity to share with them the story about a Man whose grace compelled Him to die so they could live. (I Peter 1:15-17; Colossians 4:4-6; I Corinthians 11:1; Romans 12:21)

You need to tell your story. Urgently. Desperately. Continually. You need to tell others what God has done for you. They need to hear it from you. Your words, your testimony are important. Preachers can preach, teachers can teach, writers can write, but the power of a firsthand testimonial will always eclipse the effects of a secondhand story. So go tell it. Tell your God-story. Live it out. Speak it out. Tell how God has brought you out, carried you through, parted your waters, enacted your rescue. Someone, somewhere needs to see the effects of your life-changing meeting with Jesus. Someone, somewhere needs to hear all about it. And there is no one better to tell them than you! (Mark 16:15; Matthew 5:14-17; I Corinthians 9:16; I Peter 3:15)