Nameless. Unfit to live with society. So he lived among the tombs–his hideout home. Scarred from frequent cutting. Dirty. Naked. Until Jesus stepped ashore.
Two words, “Come out,” and the legion of demons hurled into a herd of swine. Hell’s chains broke, fell off. Free. Clean.
The delivered one wanted to follow Jesus. Stay close to him. Was this longing from a feeling of eternal gratefulness? Was it from a fear if the unclean spirits returned he’d be close to The Messiah? Still, Jesus told him to stay. Stay and tell his story. He couldn’t help but tell his story.
And they come to Jesus, and see him that was possessed with the devil, and had the legion, sitting, and clothed, and in his right mind: and they were afraid. Mark 5:15
And he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel. Mark 5:20
Decapolis, a gentile region of ten cities–designated by Jesus to be his mission field. His spiritual jurisdiction. Two chapters later, Jesus returned to the same area and healed a deaf-mute.
And were beyond measure astonished, saying He hath done all things well: he maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak. Mark 7:37
A miracle in the former demoniac’s homeland. The gospel, the good news spread. His testimony, his story, used for God’s glory.
At seventeen I had a lot of questions–few answers. Questions about life. Questions about the future. Questions about God. Was He real? Was there more to being a Christian than going to church and trying to live a good life? Yes, I had questions and a summer job. My title? Assistant Head Dining Room Girl. Where? Camp Hoblitzelle in Midlothian, Texas.