Jesus Heals the Gerasene Demoniac (Luke 8:26-39)

26 Then [Jesus and the disciples] arrived at the region of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. 27 As he stepped out on shore, a man from the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had not worn any clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. 28 When he saw Jesus, he cried out and fell down before him, shouting, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me,” 29 for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) 30 Jesus then asked him, “What is your name?” He said, “Legion,” for many demons had entered him. 31 They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss.

32 Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding, and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. 33 Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd stampeded down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

34 When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country. 35 Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they became frightened. 36 Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. 37 Then the whole throng of people of the surrounding region of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them, for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. 38 The man from whom the demons had gone out begged that he might be with him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, 39 “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

When I was pastoring a small congregation in Catonsville, MD, a skinny young man pitched a jaunty tent on the church’s property. His name was Kenny. Kenny and I only had one argument. He tried to convince me that Freddy Krueger lived in North Carolina. I’m from North Carolina, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Freddy Krueger did not live there. Kenny was schizophrenic which, perhaps, offered him greater clarity into Freddy Krueger. After that quarrel, Kenny and I became peas in a pod. When I took him home with me so he could shower, we always stopped by Chick-fil-A. He held open my waffle fries on the way home so I could eat them while they were hot. He ate his sandwich once we arrived back at the apartment.

Over the ten months that Kenny was with us, I tried to find anything that could be useful to help him have a place to stay, food to eat, or medicine. I called my beloved Sheppard Pratt, where I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The offended voice who answered the phone declared, “This is a hospital. It’s NOT a homeless shelter.”

Trying to find help for Kenny led me to Bmore Housing for All, an advocacy group that met at Health Care for the Homeless in Baltimore City. On my first visit, I was specifically representing the Service Committee of our church. I asked for help with our World Communion Sunday service theme. At the end of the business and discussion part of the meeting, the leader asked the group to share. A very good-looking man with a scar on his nose and perfect chocolate skin spoke up. His name was James. He spoke very forcefully and boldly about his experiences in Vietnam, addiction, a near-fatal bicycle accident, the end of his health care, and how he got clean, got housing, and got healthy. I took copious notes like the good student that I am.

I must pause to add relevant context. Bmore Housing for All was mixed company: housed, unhoused, white, black, old, young, men, women, veteran, civilian. But there were no pastors. In fact, during the four years I attended Bmore, there were no pastors at our weekly meetings and rarely at our actions. Definitely no white woman pastors who carried a big ass Coach bag. So when James stopped talking, I was in no way surprised at the question with which he concluded. He said, “I’m schizophrenic. Do you know anything about that?” I replied, “I’m bipolar. Does that count?”

It did.

James and I dated for a while. I ran into two cars when I went to pick him up in the middle of Snowapalooza. I hate being trapped inside during the snow. He and I sat opposite one another for two days. We only stopped talking long enough to nap. We had the best time.

A few months later we broke up. About three days after we broke up, James called me with the news that his father had died in Philly. James does not do death well. He said, “What are we going to do?” I said, “We’re going to get into my car and go to Philly for your Dad’s funeral.” So we did. His 6’ tall cousin wore 5" stilettos to the funeral. She towered over me when she asked, “Are you James’ first or second white wife?” I said second.

Years later James and I were enjoying the heat of a Newport News City beach. We were listening to funk. It was a perfect day, then a kid drowned.

James completely disappeared over Thanksgiving weekend 2022, so I started calling hospitals in Philadelphia. I found him. He had Covid. A few days later, UPenn placed him on a ventilator for almost two months. When he woke up, visitors from the Committee (the voices in his head) showed up almost immediately. They told him that he should die.

I love the story of the man formerly known as Legion. Years after I formed my non-profit, Our Brother Legion, someone told me that it was a bad choice because there’s stigma associated with a guy possessed by demons. Oh golly. To me, that’s kind of the Jesus point. Jesus intentionally, boldly, authoritatively, compassionately (but not sentimentally) interacted with a crazy naked guy. He relieved him of the disease/possession. For all I can tell, Jesus even interacted compassionately with the demons. Jesus healed with extravagant embrace of this man who embodies the last, the least, the lost, the lonely, and the left behind. Whatever this is in the text, whether disease or possession, Jesus’ radical acceptance of this man is the total opposite of “We’re a hospital, NOT a homeless shelter.”

This is an essay series entitled “Legion Talks.” Legion, a man who is homeless, hurt, and dispossessed, doesn’t get to say much of what’s on his mind. But James Crawford, Jr. is with us and, like the first time I met him, he still has plenty to say. James’ voice is a crucial voice in this world.

The suicide rate of people living with schizophrenia is nothing to sneeze at, but google AI says that people living with bipolar disorder have a 30% rate of the general population to die by suicide. More than anyone else on the planet, James has kept me here. Maybe I would be alive without this friendship or without his strong words, but I don’t know how I would make it.

“Legion Talks” will be our attempt to share what we’ve experienced, to make the best sense of it as much as possible, to educate the able-bodied, to encourage those who suffer, and to lift up the lost to God.

Hope you join us every Sunday.