Tormented

Tormented

When He got out of the boat, immediately a man from the tombs with an unclean spirit met Him, and he had his dwelling among the tombs. And no one was able to bind him anymore, even with a chain; because he had often been bound with shackles and chains, and the chains had been torn apart by him and the shackles broken in pieces, and no one was strong enough to subdue him. Constantly, night and day, he was screaming among the tombs and in the mountains, and gashing himself with stones. (Mark 5:2-5)

A shock of a mop on his head. Maybe a beard, too. Blood-spattered. Furtive eyes, darting in all directions – never able to fix on anything specific. Naked. No sandals to protect his feet from the rocks on the ground. No clothes to protect his skin from the rocks in his hand. He beats himself with those rocks. Bruises blotch his skin like ink stains. Open sores and gashes attract the flies. His home is a limestone mausoleum – a graveyard of caves cut out of the Galilean shoreline. He’s content to live among the dead, and that pleases the living.

Residents in the area are baffled. The shackles in shambles on his legs and the broken chains on his wrists are evidence of the fact that no one can control this guy. Nothing can restrain him. So, how do you manage that kind of chaos? Well, if you’re a traveler, you avoid the area out of fear. (Matt. 8:28) The villagers were left with a problem, and we’re left with a picture – a picture of the work of Satan. How else do we explain his bizarre behavior? Better yet, how do we explain our own? The violent rages of a father. The secret binges of a mother. The sudden rebellion of a teenager. Internet pornography. Sex slavery. Satan never sits still, and a glimpse of this wild man reveals Satan's goal for you and me.

It’s self-imposed pain – the demoniac used rocks, but we’re more sophisticated than that; we use drugs, sex, work, violence, and food because Hell makes us hurt ourselves. It’s obsession with death and darkness – even unchained, the wild man hung out with dead people because evil feels at home there. Communing with the deceased, sacrificing the living, a morbid fascination with death and dying – that’s not the work of God. It’s an endless restlessness – the man on the eastern shore screamed “day and night.” (Mark 5:5) Satan brings about that kind of raging frenzy. "The evil spirit … wanders …," Jesus said, "looking for rest." (Matt. 12:43) And it’s isolation – the man’s all alone in his suffering. Such are Satan's plans because "the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking some one to devour." (1 Pet. 5:8; emphasis mine) In other words, fellowship foils his work. And Jesus? Well, Jesus wrecks his work.

Christ steps out of the boat with both guns blazing. "Come out of the man, unclean spirit!" (Mark 5:8) No chitchat. No niceties. No salutations. Demons don’t deserve political correctness. So they throw themselves at the feet and mercy of Christ. The leader of the horde begs on behalf of the others, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me." . . . Jesus asked him, "What is your name?" He replied, "My name is Legion; for we are many." He begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. (vv. 7, 9-10) “Legion” is a Roman military term which, during Jesus’ time, defined a group of around 5,000 soldiers. To envision that many demons inhabiting this man is frightening. But what bats are to a cave, demons are to hell – too many to count.

But the demons are not only numerous, they’re equipped, too. A legion is an armed battalion, including a small cavalry unit. In other words, Satan and his friends come prepared to fight. That’s why we’re urged to "take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm." (Eph. 6:13) And well we should, because Satan and his evil entourage are highly organized. "We are fighting against forces and authorities and against rulers of darkness and powers in the spiritual world." (Eph. 6:12)

Jesus spoke of the "gates of hell" (Matt. 16:18), a phrase that suggests a "council of hell." Our enemy has a complex and conniving spiritual army. So get rid of those images of a red-suited Satan with a pitchfork and pointy tail. The devil is both strong and smart. But, and this is the point of the passage, in God's presence, the devil is a wimp. Satan is to God what a mosquito is to an atom bomb.

Now a large herd of swine was feeding there near the mountains. So all the demons begged Him, saying, "Send us to the swine, that we may enter them." And at once Jesus gave them permission. Then the unclean spirits went out and entered the swine (there were about two thousand); and the herd ran violently down the steep place into the sea, and drowned in the sea. (Mark 5:11-13) Hell's court cowers in Christ's presence. Demons bow before him, solicit him and obey him. They can't even lease a pig without his permission. So then how do we explain Satan's influence?

Natalie must have asked that question a thousand times. In the list of characters for a modern-day exorcism story, her name is near the top. She was raised in a tormented world. The community suspected nothing, however. Her parents put up a friendly facade. Each Sunday they paraded Natalie and her sisters down the church aisle. Her father served as an elder there, and her mom played the organ. The congregation respected them. But not Natalie. She despised them. To this day she refuses to call her parents "Mom" and "Dad." A "warlock" and "witch" don't deserve that distinction.

When she was six months old, Natalie’s parents sexually sacrificed Natalie on hell's altar, pledging her as a sex slave to be exploited by men in any place, and at any time. Cultists bipolarized her world: dressing her in white for Sunday services and, hours later, stripping her at the coven. If she didn't scream or vomit during the attack, Natalie was rewarded with an ice-cream cone. Only by "crawling down deep" inside herself could she survive.

Miraculously, Natalie escaped the cult, but not the memories. Well into her adult years, she wore six pair of underpants as a wall of protection. Dresses created vulnerability, so she avoided wearing them. She hated being a woman; she hated seeing men; she hated being alive. Only God could know the legion of terrors that tormented her. And God did.

Hidden within the swampland of her soul was an untouched island. Small but safe. Built, she believes, by her heavenly Father during the hours she sat as a little girl on that church pew. Words of his love, hymns of his mercy – they all left their mark. She learned to retreat to this island and pray. And God heard her prayers. Counselors came. Hope began to offset horror. Her faith increasingly outweighed her fears. And although the healing process was lengthy and tedious, Natalie – by God’s grace – was victorious, eventually culminating in her marriage to a very godly man.

Of course, Natalie’s deliverance didn't include cliffs and pigs. But make no mistake about it – she was delivered. And thus we’re reminded: Satan can disturb us, but he can’t defeat us. The head of the serpent has been crushed. In fact, I saw a picture of that in my own backyard.

My wife and I have a patio off our bedroom where, during the summers in particular, we like to sit outside with our dogs and enjoy the view. One evening, Sandy asked me if the lawn sprinklers were on. “No,” I said, “I ran them yesterday.” (This was when you could still water your lawn.) The dogs hastily alerted, and that’s when we realized it wasn’t the sprinklers; it was a rattlesnake. We quickly put the dogs in the house (our Cocker is adorable and as smart as a whip, but our Lab, although a huge love, is not the brightest crayon in the box – if you know what I mean), and I ran to grab a shovel.

By this time, the rattler was plenty agitated and acting just like the sprinkler we thought he was – hissing and ready to strike. So, with my wife shining a flashlight on the reptile, I used the shovel to severe its head – an act which, when looking back on it, was probably more bravado than brains. We then stood back and watched as the now-headless rattler writhed and twisted in the soft dirt nearby.

Inspirational? Probably not. Hopeful? Well, maybe. Because that summer’s eve is a parable of where we are in life. Isn’t the devil a snake? John called him "that old snake who is the devil." (Rev. 20:2) And hasn’t he been decapitated? Not with a shovel, mind you, but with the cross. "God disarmed the evil rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross of Christ." (Col. 2:15) So how does that leave us? Confident, I hope.

The punch line of the passage, of course, is Jesus' power over Satan. One word from Christ and the demons are swimming with the swine, and the wild man is "sitting there fully clothed and perfectly sane." (Mark 5:15) Just one command. No séance was needed. No hocus-pocus. No chants. No candles. Hell is an anthill against heaven's steamroller. Jesus "commands . . . evil spirits, and they obey him." (Mark 1:27) The rattlesnake in the garden, and Lucifer in the pit – both met their match. And, yet, both stir up dust long after their defeat. Because though confident, we still need to be careful.

Satan, though venomless, still has a bite. He spooks our work, disrupts our activities, and leaves us thinking twice about where we step. Which we need to do. We need to be careful where we step. "Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." (1 Pet. 5:8) So alertness is needed. But panic is not. The serpent still wiggles and intimidates, but he has no poison. He’s defeated. He knows it. And, “his time is short." (Rev. 12:12)

"Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world." (1 John 4:4). Believe that. Trust the work of your Savior. "Resist the devil and he will flee from you." (James 4:7) In the meantime, the best Satan can do is squirm. And who likes snakes, anyway?

Grace,

Randy