Incredible, simply. Incredible
Psalms 42 & 43; Gal. 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39
Rev. Tiare L. Mathison, Pastor & Soul-Tender
Listen to this story: Incredible, simply. Incredible.
Transgressive, disruptive, beyond the pale. Jesus and his friends deliberately go to ‘the country of the Gerasenes’ across the sea of Galilee. The opposite side of the land called Holy. Gentile country. Foreigners, unclean, they who do not belong. Who knows what you might find? Why go there? What good could come of it?
This story is set in a sequence of 4 stories: Luke wants to portray the deep and abiding authority of Jesus: for He generates calm, He exorcises, He heals, and He raises up. (Say twice.)
At the end of the stories, Jesus does one more thing: He gives His authority away to the disciples. Incredible. Because this means if they have it, we have it too. We’re disciples…anyway…
Incredible, simply. Incredible
My son. My son. Our first-born, the pride of his dad’s eye. Little did we know what lay ahead for him and for us. Loved from the moment of first quickening, he brought joy and laughter into our home. His gaze made me catch my breath - so fresh, filled with wonder.
As a child, Benjamin was a quick study. School was easy for him, his teachers found him always ready to take the next step. Oh, and his kindness to his sisters and brother. He never resented them - we had 3 more. Those were the good years.
When the troubles started, we didn’t know what to do. The first time He hit me, I never told anyone, not even my husband, Silas. It would have broken his heart. Which happened anyway.
Ben disappeared at night, that was another clue. In his teens now, a strapping 6 footer, good looking just like his dad, he started wandering away. I thought maybe he was just restless, needing room to roam. He’d come back in the morning, bruised, as if he’d been fighting. There weren’t any reports of trouble though. I listened carefully to the talk of the town, fearful.
Hmmm, talk of the town. That’s what he became and us too. Some said if it wasn’t Ben’s sin must be ours, Silas’ & mine. What had Ben ever done to deserve this? What had we done? My son, my son.
The dinner table one night. Ben started yelling in some strange tongue, ripping at his clothes. We all watched in silent horror as he writhed, knocking his chair over, crashing his plate to the floor. The other children ran to their rooms, desperately afraid. Silas and I tried to talk to Ben in soothing tones to calm him down. It was as if he couldn’t hear us. Minutes and minutes passed. Finally, he went limp.
What was happening to our lovely first-born? Before our very eyes, he started falling apart. He no longer took a bath, unless Silas strong-armed him into the tub. His eyes became pools of emptiness, those beautiful eyes that use to take my breath away. Except when he was ranting, then his face would blotch raspberry red, his eyes glowing like a candle in a darkened room. His voice rose, a screaming pitch of clamor - different tones that pierced our ears like knives. The other kids could not to be near him anymore. So afraid of him striking out.
That’s what finally did it for me. I saw how the other children were losing their way because of Ben. Silas and I talked long and hard about what to do. We prayed of course.
We had a few trusted friends who listened to us. Our rabbi said send him away.
Send him away? Ben, our Ben? Where would he go? How would he live? How could we keep living?
Somehow the word got out. Our other kids brought home the news from school. You know how children talk - what’s the matter with your brother? Is he crazy? My mom says he’s demon-possessed. Talk of the town.
I thought I would die, the night we told Ben he could no longer live with us. He was pretty docile at first, he listened hard to our words of pain-filled rejection. His empty eyes registered nothing - no remorse, no guilt, no love. When he exploded, Silas and I both were caught off guard. He came at me first - his mother, the one who gave him birth. Knocking me to the floor, he pummeled my body with his fists, as if to bruise his hatred into my flesh. Silas sent the other kids to the neighbors and then jumped on Ben’s back. It took all his strength to get Ben off of me.
Then Ben went for his dad. He was going to kill him. Screaming at the top of my lungs, barely heard among Ben’s voracious ranting, the men in the neighborhood came quickly. About 5 of them I think finally got Ben off of Silas. They couldn’t hold him, though. His strength was overwhelming. He ran out the door, stripping his clothes off as he screamed.
When we could, Silas and I gently cleansed each other’s bodily wounds. We couldn’t touch our soul wounds. The searing pain of Ben’s hatred ripped the very fabric of faith we held. My God, My God, why have you abandoned me? Why have you abandoned us?
Ben went to live among the tombs in the graveyard. Once in awhile, we got reports about him —ranting, hitting himself with rocks, bloody, bruised. We never went to see for ourselves, the graveyard and the pigs were enough to keep us away. Each time we heard about him, my heart would rip open again. I thought I shed as many tears as humanly possible, but there were always more. Silas and I tried to put our family back together. The other children needed us—they were scarred by Ben’s actions and I think they were afraid we might send them away too. Sometimes at night, I sit by the window, longing to have my baby Ben back again. Did I do everything to get him help? Had I sinned in some way? Were the demons my fault?
Neighbors stayed away pretty much. The kids got invited over to other kids’ homes to play - they couldn’t come in our home, as if it was possessed too.
Rumors started flying about this miracle man, Jesus. He had some teaching and healing in other towns and the word spread. I was beyond miracles by this point I knew there was no hope. I didn’t even listen.
It was a clear day when the swineherds came running back to town. Early in the morning we heard shouting in the street, heading toward our home. I was afraid they were going to burn us down. As they reached the front door I had the children run out the back. Silas opened the door to a cacophony of voices shouting about the mob, Legion, pigs in the sea. What in the world was going on?
He yelled for just one person to speak and the rest be quiet.
The largest man stepped forward saying that Jesus and his friends had come to our edge of the Galilee Sea. Jesus talked with Ben, asked him his name. “Mob.” and then the pigs had jumped off the cliff. He said Ben was sitting at the edge of the graveyard, calm, dressed, talking about mercy.
My Ben? My baby? I took off running. Just in case they were right.
Word spread quickly and people started running with me. What’s happening some shouted? I just kept running. About 20 yards from the tombs, I stopped. I stopped because I saw him, my Ben, our Ben, our baby, sitting, talking quietly with this stranger.
Ben?
He looked up, jumped up and ran toward me, scooping me up in his broad arms, dancing around in a circle. Silas came then, Ben grabbed him, trying to dance with both of us. Tears started falling, more tears. I had to catch my breath.
That’s when Jesus came up to me. I fell down at His feet, sobbing. He gently lifted me up, looked me straight in the eye, and spoke: “God’s mercy is given to you today.” He hugged me gently, touched Silas’ shoulder and turned to leave. Ben ran after Him, wanting to be with Him of course. Jesus simply told Ben to stay in our town, telling all who would listen about God’s mercy extended to him.
Well, as you can imagine, we became even more the talk of the town. There were those who said it’s not possible. Ben just had a nervous breakdown. Others thought we beat Ben as a child and he freaked out. There were some who thought we made too big a deal about Ben’s healing.
But some of us believed. Jesus is the Messiah and we would gather to tell the stories to one another. At first we only knew Ben’s. Word spread though, healing stories, feeding the 5,000, woman with the menstrual blood for 12 years. Each snippet helped our faith grow.
Incredible, simply. Incredible amen
Lift every voice. James Weldon Johnson, john Rosamond Johnson
Juneteenth
Juneteenth is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating the emancipation of enslaved African Americans. Juneteenth marks the anniversary of the announcement of General Order No. 3 by Union Army general Gordon Granger on June 19, 1865, proclaiming freedom for enslaved people in Texas.
One of General Granger’s first orders of business was to read to the people of Texas, General Order Number 3 which began most significantly with:
"The people of Texas are informed that in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired laborer."