Preaching text:
I know I’ve mentioned the Ray Boltz song, “Thank you,” on more than one occasion as a sermon illustration. The song, released way back in 1988, tells the story of a person who dies and goes to heaven and as he’s walking through the here-after, he encounters a number of people he influenced in his life. You taught my Sunday School class and that helped bring me to faith. You supported a missionary that ministered to me. Time and again, the subject of the song encounters those in whose life he (or she) made a difference.
I bring this up because it highlights something I’ve been preaching on for a while. The acts of kindness and charity we carry out in Christ’s name make a difference and when we make a difference in the lives of others, that is something that is never forgotten. Sometimes, the simplest things can have the largest of impacts in ways we never expect. Faith in Christ is born out of these simple acts, a seed planted that can grow into something magnificent if given time.
I know in our declining world it is hard for us to be patient to let the seeds we plant come to their fruition. We measure success and failure by instant results, because that’s how the world works. The Church however does NOT work that way, nor should it. We take a slow road approach, which can be frustrating for those of us worried about empty pews and empty coffers. Today’s Gospel lesson however is a prime example of why the slow approach is better.
Jesus is sailing across the Sea of Galilee, going from the west side to the east. Now this is a bit of an odd choice for him because the eastern side of the lake is predominantly Gentile territory. Perhaps he’s trying to escape the crowds that have been following him everywhere while in Jewish country. Even the Messiah could use a vacation every now and then.
Jesus and the disciples come ashore and are immediately set upon by one of the locals, a wild man known for being savagely possessed by many demons. Terrified by Jesus’ divine power, this man’s demons beg to not be sent back to hell and identify themselves by the good-enough- for-a-modern-day-horror-movie name of “Legion.”
Jesus bargains with the demons and they all agree that rather than go back to hell, the demons will go possess some nearby pigs (A big clue we’re among Gentiles here.) The demons do so, but the pigs don’t take to the demons well and they rush off in a panic and drown themselves.
This understandably upsets the local swineherds, who probably watched a good chunk of their livelihood just off itself thanks to Jesus. They approach him in fear and anger and demand he leave their country. Rather than stir up any further trouble, Jesus agrees to go back across the lake.
As Jesus is getting in the boat, the former demoniac pleads with Jesus to go with him. Surprisingly, Jesus refuses his request, but tells him to go back to his own people and tell all that has happened to him. With this the story ends.
Or does it?
If that was all there was, this would be a cool miracle story with quite a bit of dramatic flair. But the last verse of our Gospel lesson today isn’t actually where the story ends. Jesus does leave and does go back to the Jewish territories. He continues his ministry there, teaching and performing miracles as he’s wont to do.
The Evangelist Mark however tells us that after some time, Jesus returned again to the Genesaret. He came across the sea again and this time, he was welcomed by a great crowd of people who had brought to him the sick, the lame, the demon possessed; all so Jesus could touch them and heal them of their infirmities. This huge crowd come to welcome him and beg him for his help out of a city that just a few months earlier had told Jesus to take a hike. What made the difference?
The former demoniac.
This terrifying man, filled with rage and superhuman strength, a blasphemer much like those described in our first lesson was now healed of all of that. He’d returned a changed man, good, decent, and honest and what made the difference was the kindness of Jesus Christ. And now because of that kindness, this man took what Jesus had told him to do and ran with it, telling everyone what made the difference in his life. And that word spread. So that when this man (presumably) sees Jesus coming across the sea, he runs and tells everyone and they all flock to the docks to greet the Jewish Messiah who healed their friend, bringing even more people for Jesus to help.
My friends, this is true evangelism. This is how it works. I know all of us have had our heads filled with images of people knocking on doors to figuratively beat people over the head with Scripture, saying things like “be saved or go to hell.” And we’ve all come to think that’s how it’s supposed to be done. But none of us want to do that, because none of us also want to have it done to us. While I admire their dedication and fervor, who of us here is ever eager to see the Mormon missionaries coming up their street? Or the Jehovah’s Witnesses?
But the stuff that they do and the stuff we’ve been so often encouraged to do by the slow creep of American Evangelicalism is not how Jesus himself does it. Jesus embodies the message he brings. He tells people to love one another and then he does it, by healing and kindness and respect and honor. He welcomes the outcast and rejected. He sets free people in bondage to disease and affliction. He gives people a new lease on life. He makes a difference in their lives.
While we may not be able to miraculously cast out demons into pigs or cleanse lepers of their affliction, we can embody the faith we practice as Jesus did. We can talk about loving one another and then go do it to our neighbors, our friends, our family, even our enemies and rivals. We can make kindness and compassion our ruling principles. And in doing do, we can make a difference in the lives of others. A difference they will never forget.
I can tell you from personal experience how true that really is. Pastors all have a call story, a tale of how they knew they were destined to seek ordained ministry. Mine is centered on people. A friend who needed compassion when I was the only one who could offer it. A campus pastor who showed me that faith was more than trying to please an unrelenting set of rules and regulations. An interim pastor who gave me every chance he could to enter the pulpit and hone my skills before I’d even put in an application for seminary. These people made a difference in my life and I have never forgotten any of what they did, nor will I. I owe them such a debt as do any who are touched in turn by the work I do and the work you do because of what I say up here. And so forth and so on. Do you see? This is how it spreads. This is how we change the world. One kindness at a time. Amen.
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