Mark 5:1-5
They came to the other side of the lake, to the country of the Gerasenes. And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man out of the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs; and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones.
There is something so utterly forlorn and desperate about the Gerasene man. He has been out of his right mind for long enough that people have given up on him. Friends, family, associates – no one believes they can do anything for him and perhaps have come to fear him. That wasn’t always the case. Previously, people had tried to restrain him. Chains and shackles may seem barbaric to us, but they were restraints to keep him from hurting himself and others. But no longer. No one can restrain him.
And so he is alone. Displaced from the community, he roams the tombs of death and defilement, free only to hurt himself while living out his days in anguished solitude.
I wonder: did Jesus cross the lake, braving wind and storm, for this man? We don’t know. We do know that it is the first person he meets. And whether intentional or by accident, there is something deeply significant about this. We’ve already seen that Mark helps us understand what the kingdom of God Jesus proclaims is all about by directing our attention to Jesus’ actions, to what he actually does. And the first thing Jesus did when he returned from the wilderness was cast out an unclean spirit, setting himself against the powers of evil that rob God’s children of abundant life. Then he healed a woman who was gravely ill, committing himself to the restoration of health. And then he cleansed a leper so that this man could be restored not only to health but to community, demonstrating his commitment that God’s children should not – as Genesis first reported – be alone.
Little wonder then that in this new territory across the sea he is again met by one in absolute despair. There is something tremendously comforting about this. Jesus reaches out to all those in need, caring for those who suffer in mind, body, or spirit.
But let’s not kid ourselves – there is something somewhat disturbing about this as well. Because if Jesus comes to heal, then only those who identify as sick will welcome him. A visit from the doctor, after all, isn’t comforting if you believe you’re in perfect health.
Jesus meets human need. But are we prepared to admit our need? Maybe this is why the church has declined so significantly in Europe and the Unites States. We live with such material abundance that we have all but masked our deep need. So does Jesus’ presence and offer of healing seem attractive or repellant to the self-made man or woman of our time.
From all accounts, you see, Jesus comes for the lost, the outcast, the suffering. He comes, that is, for losers. Because as sorry as we feel for these folks who are possessed or ill or paralyzed or suffer from leprosy, we probably wouldn’t want to hang our with them. But these are the ones for whom Jesus always comes. The Apostle Paul gets at something quite similar when he asks the Corinthians to remember their own social status before becoming Christian: “not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth” (1 Cor. 1:26).
Jesus comes for losers. Like this guy, roaming the tombs all alone. So perhaps the question for us today is whether we can acknowledge our need – our real, honest-to-goodness need – and identify with this loser. Because only by admitting our need can we have that need met and receive the life, health, healing, and community Jesus brings.
Prayer: Dear God, thank you for coming for the lost, for the hurting, for the losers…like me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Wow!