When I fired our Store Manager in Topeka, I wondered if I'd done the right thing, but the company President told me that I had done Keith a favor. He said that people who were "in over their heads" were unhappy. And I believed him. I wanted to believe that I was a liberator and not a terminator, but even then, firing a good man without notice seemed unnecessary and yes, unchristian. Back then, I was very good at putting myself first and pretty good at turning a deaf ear to any cries for justice I might have heard, but I was a new Christian and Jesus was tormenting me. I'd spent a lifetime hiding in barrooms, board rooms, and backrooms, and Jesus was calling me out... as the naked and frightened person I was. He wanted to know me so that he could drive out the demons of self and sin that were driving me mad. For the first time in my life, I could hear his voice calling to me, but there was a voice within me that cried louder, "Jesus, what have you to do with me!" There had been occasional moments when I put the right thing ahead of the expedient thing. For instance, I hired a one-armed man as a stock clerk in Memphis, and when my boss saw him, he told me to fire him. "No," I said, "He's doing a fine job and I will not fire him." I amazed myself, standing up for "a little guy," but moments like that were few and far between. Almost always, I was chained to myself and my fears, and I wasn't sure what my future would be if I gave in to Christ.
Over the years I've given money to virtually every street person who asked, sometimes going out of my way to do it. This habit has amused and irritated some of my friends, who are quick to point out that I am being "taken advantage of," but they can all rest easy because I already know that. I've heard just about every version of the "out of gas" story that there is, and I've seen the same faces again and again. However, an inner voice always reminded me that I was a beggar too, and I knew it to be true. I knew, long before I accepted Christ that, if I ever met God, it would be with my hands out, begging for a little mercy. To me, the Biblical story of the naked demoniac is a story of desperation and begging. It's a story about hiding and being found. It's about Jesus interfering in our worlds, whether we're chained to tombstones, or comfortable owners of herds of swine. Jesus- the real Jesus- is disruptive. He insists on remaking us and most of us are afraid of that. As a dashboard figure, Jesus is harmless, but if you're chained to a tombstone somewhere, or running naked in some graveyard, or for that matter, making a living as a pig herder, Jesus can be an unwelcome intruder. However, and this is important, we will never be healed unless we are known! We can never begin again unless we are known. So when Jesus calls, run to him. Naked and wounded, crazy and fearful, run to him. Let him drive your demons into the brink because He is the only chance you have.
Jesus can be a tormenter! It's not just the demoniacs, the fat cats, the drunks, or the self-righteous who resist Jesus. He calls each one of us to come to him, so that we can be known, and many of us are too proud to do that. Like Nicodemus, we come in the night. Like Peter, we deny the very thing that Jesus is asking us to do. It's challenging to follow a man who is carrying a cross, and besides, many of us simply don't want to give up our sins. We would rather be chained to something we know than freed to follow someone who is inviting us to "die to self," The demoniac is me, and dare I say it, he is also you because we are all chained to something that ties us down. We are all afraid to come forth and be known because being exposed for what we are- limited creatures in need of grace- is tormenting. Yet, this is how our Christian journey begins- by surrendering and trusting. Being known is a step of faith, and it is the first step toward discipleship. I read of a theology teacher who was asked by one of his students, "Sir, have you been saved?" To which the teacher responded, "From what? Saved from what?" "In fact," he added, "Let that question be your homework assignment. Bring an answer to class tomorrow- from what are we saved?" Well, that's easy enough- I've been saved from my love affair with alcohol... the past... the nagging notion that I'm not good enough... my obsession with self... my base instincts to run or fight... my desire to drag my neighbor down and ignore the stranger... the grips of a demon... from death and the fear of it. I've been saved from all of this and more, by Christ, and I was saved by being known, repenting, and trusting.
Friends, Christ is a liberator! Won't you come out of hiding today? Won't you come out from behind your desks, your hymnals, your gated communities, your graveyards, and overcome the voice that cries out, "O Jesus, what do you have to do with me?" Friends, Jesus is a Liberator, an Inviter, a Challenger. "Come," he says, "Follow me." "Who touched me?" he cried. "What do you want me to do for you?" he asked. "Pick up your cross," he demands, and something within us cries out, "O Jesus what have you to do with me?" It's the question of a lifetime. It's a question that demands an answer. It's a personal question. Go to him now, naked and wounded, confused and embattled, fearful and hopeful. Go to him and get free. Stand before him and be known. I'm still sorry I fired Keith, still glad that I give to bums, and now and then, when one-armed stock clerks cross my mind. I smile at how God works in the strangest ways. Amen.
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