06/29/2021
I paced, back and forth, yet the chill of the morning held me with a greater intensity than normal; as I blew my breath, though somewhat shallow, into my cupped hands, the warmth did not linger long, and I could not help but take notice of their shrunken state. Bones protruded as my old and wrinkled skin, so very thin, gave the aged hands detailed shape. Looking down and upon my body, it too was emaciated, dirty and the lack of any clothing, not a shred, held me in a humbled state that I just could not escape. I sat, discouraged and once again, alone, with only my thoughts in the tombs on the outskirts of the village. Yet to my displeasure as with so many days, now turned to years, the voices within, not of me, began to taunt me with their relentless barrage of disparaging insults. I however, no longer cared, having succumbed long ago, and sat, listening, unaffected, to the unending chatter that consumed the entirety of my being.
Sitting very still, I surprisingly sensed an uneasiness within, one that I had never encountered. Then, listening more intently, to the voices that I had come to know intimately, that of condescension, arrogance, and superiority, a change began to emerge; I could sense in their pervading sheepish tones that anxiety, apprehension, nervousness and soon a full-on fearfulness ushered forth as they mumbled the same name over and over, repeatedly and with great concern…Jesus.
Now, in their weakened, confused, and debilitated state, that of the demons that had displaced “me” years ago, I began to walk, slowly at first, away from the wilderness and the tombs that they had driven me to years earlier, until I could no longer contain myself and began to run, as if my very life, though of little regard to any that might come upon me, depended upon it, down to the shore of the Galilee.
Slowing my pace as I neared the shore, I knew it must be him, this Jesus they kept speaking of, as they threw me down violently, forcibly and before this man. I was exhausted from running, exhausted from life, and knelt willingly, for I knew that he that stood above me, was, though wrapped in the flesh of man, not of this world. I wanted so badly to raise my head, to look into his eyes, in hopes that he might see and sense my desperation, yet, the demons, held me, face down, unwilling themselves to dare make eye contact with him. The voices within spoke over one another in a fear filled frenzy and soon they fell, one by one, silent.
He then posed a question, “What is your name?” I was not sure if he was talking to me and or the demons that now cowered with me in a submissive state. Kneeling there I was overcome, with a deep sadness, as I tried to simply remember my name; it had been so many years since I had heard my name given voice and I remained, utterly confused as to the entirety of the experience which found me as a participant. One of the demons, normally quite sure in his taunting towards me, spoke trembling and without confidence, “Legion”. It was descriptive of the many demons that possessed me, and though I knew it, Jesus must have as well.
Negotiation of their demise and the expulsion from my being, found me laying upon the ground, embarrassed as to my nakedness, yet, as I looked up, Jesus offered his outstretched hand and lifted me up and to my feet. Looking now, directly into his eyes, with his hands gently upon my shoulders, he simply smiled, and I felt, in an instant, a healing overcome the totality of my body. He then proceeded to disrobe and carefully covered my naked body and for the first time in years, it now warmed to a temperature that I had long forgotten. We conversed much during the rest of the day, my mind now full in its return and though I besought him to allow me to be with him, wherever he might go, he would instruct, challenge and encourage me with a final word, “return to thine own house, and show how great things God hath done unto thee.”
Father, there is so very much in this story that it has taken me into areas of mediation beyond the norm. Yet another person, unnamed, alone, sickly, naked, homeless, in the wilderness, possessed, shackled, forgotten and in this state for so many years; it is, if possible, both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time? I am always captivated with those men or women that bear “no name” in scripture for it seems they longed, desperately, for the gentle touch of your hand, a kind word from your mouth, a compassionate look into their eyes, something, anything, and eventually nothing other than relationship with you in its intimacy; the Samaritan woman at the well, the woman that anointed your feet with her tears and hair, the paralytic man at the pool of Bethesda, the leprous man, the adulterous woman taken in the very act, the man with the withered hand, the woman with the issue of blood, the widowed woman offering two mites in the treasury temple, the blind beggar at Jericho, the Gentile woman interceding for her vexed daughter asking but for the crumbs from the masters table, the deaf and dumb man, the thief on the cross and the list could continue without end Father. You always seem to have individuals, young and old, those that are seemingly beyond help, looked down upon by society, those cast away and those forgotten, within your thoughts. Neither distance, religious circumstance, tradition, societal status, nor the years of one’s bondage in sickness, addiction, oppression, possession, or sin, would deter your son from pouring forth love, in all of its forms, without limitation then and still today. How does one man Father, impact the lives of so many, in such a short time? There are so many stories Father, those that are without name, so many that are lost, so many hurting, so many walking wounded, without hope, stripped of all dignity, reduced to a life of despair, still longing, desperately, for that which your Son gave so freely. How Lord can one man, one woman, intervene? The passage in Isaiah 58 ushers forth, “Is not this the fast that I have chosen? To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? When thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall by thy rearward. Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer: thou shalt cry, and He shall say, Here I am, if though take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity; and if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day. And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones; and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.”
Lastly Father, the question lingers, awaiting a response, “what is your name”? Each name, a story, a story of life, lived now, yet waiting to be told, waiting to be read, years later, by an inquisitive mind finding themselves in the midst of their story, seeking meaning and longing for purpose. May they find, in their pursuit, a man, or a woman, who willingly died to self, and clothed themselves with that of your Son Jesus. Forgive me for the translation “They were crucified with Christ, nevertheless they lived: yet not they, but Christ lived in them: and the life they lived in the flesh, they lived by the faith of the son of God, who loved them, and gave himself for them.”
Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, we love you!
Daniel