Scripture Reading And Welcome

SPEAKER_00 0:35

Good morning. My name is Abigail Mortenson, and I am a junior at Rodriguez High School, and I will be reading Mark 5, verse 1 through 20. They went across the lake to the region of Garrisis, where Jesus got out of the boat. A man with an impure spirit came from the tombs to meet him. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him, night and day among the tombs and in the hills, he would cry out and cut himself with stones. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. He shouted at the top of his voice, What do you want with me, Jesus, son of most high God? In God's name, don't torture me. For Jesus had said to him, Come out of this man, you impure spirit. Then Jesus asked him, What is your name? My name is Legion, he replied, for we are many. And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area. A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, Send us among the pigs, allow us to go into them. He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned. Those tending the pigs ran off and reported in the town and the countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons sitting there, dressed and in his right mind. And they were afraid. For those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave the region. As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him. Jesus did not let him, but said, Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and how he has had mercy on you. So the man went away and began to tell the decapits how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed. This is the word of the Lord.

The Tombs And The Cry

Legion Meets Jesus’ Authority

The Pigs And The Price

Sent Home With A Story

Which Voice Will You Become

SPEAKER_01 2:58

Thanks, Abby. Awesome job. If you're with us for the first time at Easter last week, we're really glad you're here. We are uh walking through and talking through the gospel of Mark, which is found in the New Testament, um, which was mostly um the stories through a disciple named Peter. And then Mark scribed this out, which is why we get a lot of some of the intensity and the words and the really fast things that we experience of the life and who Jesus was. So today, congratulations. We are in Mark chapter five. We do this verse by verse. You get a gift. We're doing 20 verses today. We're gonna cover some ground. You just heard that whole uh narrative. And just to get you back to where we were before Easter, um, we had just survived a storm, like there was a bad storm, and then Jesus calms a storm. This is a fairly familiar story. And so you have the disciples, and they had just survived a storm that almost killed them. Like there was water in the boat we saw, and these were like professional fishermen panicking, and then Jesus rebuking the wind like it insulted him personally. And so the disciples end that night, if you remember in chapter four, verse 41, with who then is this? They don't even get time to process that answer because the moment that their feet hit the shore, the question becomes even more unsettling. So we'll pick it up, chapter five, verse one. They came to the other side of the sea, into the country of Garan seeds. That line should feel loaded now. So on the other side, this isn't Jewish territory, it's not clean territory, not comfortable territory for them. This is Gentile land, this is Roman influence, pig country, spiritual, tense air. And before they can even pull the boat up properly, it says, and when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately, he's always using that word, there met him out of the tombs, a man with an unclean spirit. Immediately, again, he loves this word. It's all immediate. They just escaped chaos on the water. Now, chaos runs at them on land and not subtle chaos. Like this man lives in the tombs. Just let that sink in. He doesn't like visit the cemetery, he doesn't pass through occasionally, he lives there. And Mark tells us he had lived among the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with chain. So just think about that. Pause there for a second, not even with chain, which means they had tried, like over and over again, for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart and broke the shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to sedue him. So this isn't like Hollywood exaggeration here. This is community-level desperation. They didn't know how to help him, so they restrained him. And when restraint failed, they abandoned him. So, verse 5: night and day among the tombs and on the mountains, he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones. I mean, this is like one of the most haunting verses in the Gospel of Mark. Night and day, always crying out, always harming himself. This isn't just like a demon possession. This is isolation, self-destruction, mental torment, social exile. He lives among death and he's still alive, which might actually be the cruelest part. And some of you know what that feels like, not literally living in a cemetery, but feeling like you're surviving in places that are spiritually dead, like feeling like you're screaming internally and no one knows what to do with you. Feeling like people tried to help once, but when it got complicated, they backed away. And this man is not just spiritually bound, he's relationally abandoned. This is the kind of person that polite society avoids. In this phrase, um, crying out here, it's a Greek word that's klazo. It means, uh, it doesn't mean like a whispering, it doesn't mean like politely asking for help. It means like screaming, shrieking, like raw, this uncontrolled, desperate sound that comes like from deep within. It's actually the same word that's used when the blind Bartimaeus shouts, Jesus, the Son of David, have mercy on me. It's the same word that the apostle Paul will use in Romans chapter 8 when he says, We cry, Abba, Father. And this is wild. It's actually the same word that's used in Acts 16 when a slave girl with a spirit of deviation follows Paul around crying out. Same word, which means something that we don't expect. The Bible uses the same verb to describe demonic screaming, desperate prayer, and this spirit-led longing for God. Same volume, different source, different direction. And I think that should slow some of us down because when Mark says that this man was crying out night and day, he doesn't tell us exactly what he's saying. He doesn't tell us that it was coherent, he doesn't tell us that it was blasphemy. He just tells us it was constant, night and day, always. And here's what hits me. Sometimes what sounds like madness to a crowd is actually pain, just looking for relief. Sometimes what sounds chaotic is actually just a human soul suffocating under something that it can't name. So the town heard noise. Jesus heard torment. The town heard destruction, Jesus heard bondage. And get this Jesus was literally on top of the world doing ministry where he was. There was no reason for him to cross the lake. Like it was as good as it gets. And we will see that he only has this one interaction before then he leaves. It's almost like Jesus could hear this cry and just couldn't take the oppression anymore and move to the other side to do something about it. I mean, that's fascinating to me that he's over there and everything is so good. It's it's all happening right there. There's no reason to cross. And instead, he says, It's cross, we're going through a storm. I just can't take it anymore. I've got to do something about it. And this same verb clazo can describe a demon screaming truth through a slave girl or a blind beggar crying for mercy, or the spirit inside of a believer crying Abba. So here's really the question that presses on us: What determines the difference? It's not the intensity, not the volume, it's not even the words, it's the allegiance of the cry. Where is it aimed? Because one cry comes from fragmentation, another cry comes from faith, another cry comes from possession, and another comes from adoption. In Mark chapter five, right here, this man begins the story screaming and torment. But by verse 15, we'll see he's sitting clothed in his right mind, and the screaming stops. And then by verse 20, as we'll see, he's proclaiming what Jesus has done. That's the transformation of the cry from chaos to clarity, from torment to testimony. And here's why this matters for us. Some of you have cried out before, not poetic prayers, not polished theology, just raw desperation. And maybe you wondered, like, was that even a prayer? Let me tell you something really beautiful. I don't think God's confused by desperate sounds. He's not intimidated by volume, he's not offended by your broken grammar, and he's not startled by your emotional mess. He walks toward tomb screams, and he doesn't wait for him to sound like church. And some of you, if you're honest, aren't screaming out loud. But inside, it's loud. Anxiety, grief, addiction, shame, anger, questions you don't say at Bible study. And here's the hope that's embedded in this little Greek word clauseo. The same mouth that once screamed in torment can become the mouth that proclaims mercy. The direction of the cry can change because when Jesus confronts what's occupying you, it doesn't silence you, it frees you. And when he frees you, your voice doesn't disappear, it gets redeemed. Now, here's the fascinating um something fascinating. Before Jesus speaks in this moment, the demon speaks first, verse six. And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him. So ran, right? Not away. Uh the man who no one could subdue runs and then falls down. Can we just pause for a second and picture this scene? Do you remember how it said at the end, I told you to just foreshadow this, he's clothed. So what is he not right now? Clothed. Think about this scene for the disciples. They're exhausted and overwhelmed because they just went through a storm. They've been baling water out of this thing. They're asking Jesus, do you even care? Then they watch him stop and silence this storm and they're exhausted. Now they're going, Who is this that even controls all of these things? They pull up, they're just wanting some like rest as they're getting ready to do this, and they look up, and all they see is a naked guy running at them, screaming. I mean, like, can you see the scene? And they're like, whoa, okay, let's get back in the boat. Like, I'll deal with the storm. Like, that's the scene that is going on right here. This crazy demon-possessed zombie, like, like whatever the thing is, running towards you, and Jesus is just like, let's go. Like, we're here, let's do this. And then it says, and this next verse, and crying out, this is the demon guy, with a loud voice, he said, What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adore you by God, do not torment me. Now notice something deeply ironic. The disciples just asked, Who is this? Right? The demons know immediately. Jesus, the Son of God most high. Spiritual darkness, right here, recognizes authority faster than comfortable religion does. That should humble us. And here's what's so powerful. When Jesus confronts what's occupying this man, he doesn't argue with the screen. He addresses the source. Mark tells us then, for he was saying to him, Come out of the man, you unclean spirit. Now notice that. Jesus doesn't rebuke the man, he rebukes the spirit. He separates identity from oppression. The town had tried to restrain his behavior, and Jesus goes after the bondage. And then he asks the question that exposes what's really going on. He says, What's your name? And again, not because Jesus lacks information, but because naming brings clarity. And the answer is chilling. Verse nine, he replied, My name is Legion, for we are many. Right? That's just creepy, right? I mean, because you can imagine how it was like, my we're legion. You're like, oh my gosh, like, why are you talking like that? Right? Now, what's a legion? A legion is thousands of soldiers, like, not a minor struggle. This is occupation. Like, this man is not moody right now. He is overrun. Don't miss the setting. They are in Gentile territory under Roman authority. And the demon says legion. Mark right here, he's stacking imagery. This is what's going on. There's spiritual oppression, political occupation, cultural uncleanness, tombs, pigs. This is the deepest other side imaginable. And here's what I love about Jesus in this moment. He doesn't panic at the number to be like, well, that was a little more than I was expecting. Right? He doesn't like negotiate with the mass like or escalate the theatrics of this. And then what happens is the legion begs. And he begged him earnestly, do not send them out of the country. Now a great herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside, and they begged him, saying, Send us to the pigs, let us enter them. And then Mark says, He gave him permission. Permission. Like I think that that word should steady you and I. Because darkness is loud, but it is not autonomous. Even a legion here waits for consent. And the unclean spirits came out and then entered the pigs, and the herd numbering about 2,000 rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the sea, which we're like, what the heck is happening in this story? What did the pigs do? I mean, it's crazy. The same sea that almost swallowed the disciples the night before now swallows the legion. This isn't accidental. Jesus is not just Lord over the weather. He is Lord over whatever hides behind the weather. He is Lord over chaos in every form. Now, here's where the story turns unexpectedly. So the herdsmen fled and told it in the city and in the countryside, and people came out to see what it is that had happened. So Mark gives us one of the most beautiful snapshots right here, I think, in the gospel. This is beautiful. And so they came to Jesus, they saw the demon-possessed man, the one who had the legion, sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, and they were afraid. Sitting, no longer pacing the tombs, clothed, no longer exposed and vulnerable, and in his right mind, no longer fragmented. The man who screamed night and day is now still and the cry has stopped. And here's detail that I think should unsettle us a little bit. They were afraid, to which we would say, afraid? They weren't afraid when he lived in the cemetery. They weren't afraid when he cut himself with stones. They weren't afraid when he broke the chains, and they're afraid now. Like, why are they afraid now? Why? I mean, they just dealt with him, right? Because dysfunction is manageable at a distance. Ooh, right? Authority, though, that restores everything is disruptive. And here's the hard question this task at this text acts says. Are we more comfortable with predictable brokenness than we are with costly freedom? 2,000 pigs just drowned. I mean, this is this is why they're going and talking about it. This is huge. This is economic loss. Like the financial impact of this, it's disruptive to their stability and deliverance, right here, has literally changed the bottom line. So Mark says, and those who had seen it described it to them, what had happened to the demon-possessed man, and then to the pigs. They began to beg Jesus to depart from their region. Beg. Same intensity of pleading, different direction. The demons begged. Now the town begs, but they're not begging for more healing. They're begging for him to leave because restoration cost them something. And here's where I think it hits us personally. It's one thing to want Jesus to calm our storm. It's another thing to want him to confront what's occupying territory in your life. Because sometimes freedom rearranges more than your emotions. It rearranges your economy, your relationships, your routines, your comfort. And these people prefer manageable chaos over disruptive salvation. And I think that tension actually still exists today. We say we want peace, we say we want clarity, we say we want transformation. But when Jesus starts driving pigs off cliffs, when he starts dismantling what's feeding our comfort comfort, we quietly ask him to step back. This is the tragedy of the other side. The man is free, the town is unsettled, and Jesus honors their request. He gets back into the boat. He doesn't force himself on anyone. Let that settle in. They beg him to leave, and he does. No argument, no rebuke, no, you're gonna regret this. No fire from heaven, just a quiet departure. That alone tells you something about the kingdom. That Jesus will confront demons, he'll rebuke storms, he will silence unclean spirits, but he will not force himself on people who prefer their pigs. And that's sobering. He doesn't override rejection, he honors it. The story isn't over because now the man who once screamed in torment has a new request. And this is where the passage like really flips everything we think we know about discipleship. While he's um stepping into the boat, something unexpected happens. He was getting into the boat, and the man who had been possessed with the demons begged him, begged that he might be with him. So I mean it's kind of like they're getting back in the boat and the disciples are doing the count, right? How many we got? We got one, and then they're like, we got an extra one. Hold up, right? Begged him, and I can get, I get this, right? Some of you guys can connect to this. It's the same intensity word uses early, deep desire, like this earnest plea. This man who once screamed in torment is now speaking in clarity because he wants proximity. He wants to go where Jesus goes, which makes perfect sense, right? You just got delivered from a legion. You just got restored from tomb life, right? You just got given your mind back and you don't want to stay in the town that changed you because you're like, yeah. I know that guy, right? You want to follow the one who freed you, not be with the ones who just changed you. And here's where Jesus does something completely counterintuitive to what we've seen so far. He didn't permit them. Which we're like, whoa, wait, what? He didn't permit him? Like that this should feel strange because up to this point, the call of discipleship has sounded like follow me. Hey, come with me. Drop your nets, leave your tax booth. But here, the first fully delivered Gentile believer says, Let me come with you. And Jesus says, uh-uh. Why? Because discipleship is not defined by geography, it's defined by our obedience. Listen to what he says. He says, Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you and how he has had mercy on you. Mercy on you. Go home. That load is that phrase is loaded for many of us. Like the tomb dweller gets sent back to society. This isolated, the isolated one literally gets sent back into relationship where exile becomes this witness. He just wanted to send on the boat. Jesus says, no, no, you're going to go back in the neighborhood. Now, notice the content of his mission here. Tell them how much the Lord has done. Tell them about mercy, not theology, not apologetics, not this structured testimony outline, just mercy. This is the first commissioned missionary in Mark's gospel. He's not trained. He hasn't attended synagogue class. He doesn't understand parables yet. He just knows he's free. And Mark tells us, and he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis, which is this huge region, how much Jesus had done for him. And everyone marveled. The Decapolis is made up of 10 Gentile cities. This is pagan territory, heavy Greek influence, Roman presence. And Jesus just planted the first seed of the kingdom witness in Gentile soil. And he did it through a formally demonized man. Think about that. The disciples were terrified in a boat in Mark chapter four. They're still processing storms and authority and fear. But this man, he becomes the first missionary to the Gentiles before Peter ever preaches to Cornelius, before Paul ever travels, before Acts ever even unfolds. Mark quietly shows us that the kingdom is already crossing borders. And let me just really quickly foreshadow Mark chapter 8, real fast. The next time Jesus comes back to the Decapolis, he ends up teaching about 4,000 for days and then feeds them. It's the feeding of the 4,000. How do you think they heard about Jesus? More to come later. Now let's just zoom out and see the narrative arc right here. In Mark 4, Jesus comes a storm, and the disciples ask, Who is this? In Mark chapter 5, just these first 20 verses, demons answer the question that he is the son of the most high God. And in the middle of that revelation, we see three different responses right here. Demons fear him, townspeople reject him, and the delivered man follows him. Same Jesus, you ready for this? Different soil. Mark is intentionally echoing the parable of the sower from chapter four. Same word, different ground. Some of you in this room resonate immediately with a delivered man. You remember what freedom felt like. You remember when clarity returned. You remember when shame loosened its grip. And you want proximity. You want to stay close. And then there's some of you, if you're honest, you feel more like the townspeople. You see what Jesus can do, but you're not sure you want it if it might cost, because freedom is disruptive. It rearranges budgets, identity, it rearranges who gets to sit at the center of your life. And some of you, you're just still in tomb space. Not visibly, maybe not dramatically, but internally you function, you go to work, you scroll, you show up. But there are places inside that feel like graveyards, isolated, self-destructive, loud at night. And here's what Mark V does that's deeply pastoral. It refuses to let you reduce Jesus to inspiration. He is not just a calming presence, he's an invading authority. He crosses the sea on purpose. He enters unclean territory on purpose. He steps toward what everyone else avoids and he doesn't flinch. He doesn't ask how many demons. He doesn't negotiate percentages. He doesn't require the man to get slightly better first. He commands and darkness obeys. So real quick, just let's talk about something we rarely sit with. Jesus allows the demons to enter pigs. 2,000 pigs rush into the sea. Again, this is like economic collapse. This is like financial shock for them. And it's a huge disruption culturally here. The town now chooses stability over salvation. And this tension is not ancient, it's current. Because sometimes we pray for breakthrough, I believe, but only if it doesn't touch our pigs. Only if it doesn't disrupt our comfort, only if it doesn't threaten systems that we've like normalized. But the kingdom authority always confronts occupying forces. And when it does, something has to go over the cliff. Now come back just to the delivered man who's now standing at the shoreline. Jesus says, Go home. That's not small. For some of you who've lived in tombs, home is complicated. Home means faces that remember your worst moments. Home means relationships that failed. Home means vulnerability. But this is the genius of Jesus' missional strategy. He doesn't send the man to a platform, he sends him to people because the gospel doesn't primarily spread through events, it spreads through proximity. You don't need a microphone to testify, you just need mercy. And for some of us, we can think that calling, like it equals leaving your city or leaving your job, leaving your family system, leaving your environment. And sometimes it does, honestly, sometimes it does, but sometimes the holiest thing that you can do is to go back home changed. Not to relive dysfunction, not to re-enter bondage, but to embody mercy in the place that once defined you. Let me tell you a story real quick. There's a young guy who grew up in a pretty rough environment. There was addiction in his family, anger everywhere, low expectations. And he ended up coming to faith in college. He was radically transformed, was clear-headed, so really grounded dude. And he immediately wanted to move across the country to like start fresh, right? And maybe that would have been fine. But instead, uh he felt compelled to stay. And so what he did is he went back into his old neighborhood, not to relive it, but to live differently in it. He didn't preach on street corners. He coached, he mentored, he showed up. And years later, people would say, like, you're different. And he would say, mercy. That's Mark V. The man who screamed at night ends up becoming the man who speaks of mercy by day. And don't miss this detail. This man becomes what the disciples are still becoming. Sent. Mark III showed us that the disciples are called to be with him and then sent out. This man doesn't get the be with him phase very long. He goes straight to sent, which tells us something profound. You don't have to have it all figured out to be faithful. You don't need five years of spiritual maturity to tell the truth about mercy. And here's where this lands for us. If Jesus has delivered you from anything, addiction, bitterness, self-harm, spiritual numbness, identity confusion, religious pride, you are not just healed, friend. You are sent. Not to argue, not to dominate, not to weaponize theology, but to say, here's what mercy did. The kingdom advances one restored voice at a time. The demons rejected the authority. The town rejected authority. The man embodied authority. And now the shoreline is quiet. The boat pulls away, and the town returns to routine. The pigs are gone, but the tombs remain. But somewhere in the Tagapolis, a formerly tortured man is telling a story. And the seeds are being planted in Gentile soil long before anyone realized what's coming. And that's how the kingdom works: quietly, personally, disruptively, mercifully. So here's the question: When Jesus steps into your territory, your comfort, your chaos, your cemetery, your economy, which voice will you become? A voice that resists? A voice that fears, or a voice that says, Let me tell you what mercy did. Because I'm telling you, the sower is still sowing. The stronger one is still binding. And the shoreline is closer than y'all think.