Salvation Without Fear: Rethinking the Story of Legion

Salvation Without Fear: Rethinking Demon Possession and the Story of Legion

Revisiting Familiar Stories with New Eyes

What are we supposed to do with stories of demon possession in the New Testament? It's a fair question—especially for those of us who want to take scripture seriously but also live in a world where mental health, trauma, and science offer us important frameworks. This past Sunday, we explored one such story from Mark 5, but it really begins in the previous chapter. It's a story that appears in all three synoptic gospels—Mark, Matthew, and Luke—with each offering a slightly different emphasis.

Jesus Calms a Storm—and Our Expectations

In Mark 4, Jesus calms a storm after his disciples wake him, panicked. Matthew presents this moment as a lesson in fear—Jesus asks, "Why are you so afraid?" and then brings peace to the chaos. Mark, though, gives us a more layered interaction. The disciples don't just express fear of the storm—they question whether Jesus cares at all. When he calms the storm, he then turns and asks, "Do you still have no faith?"

This isn't about doubting Jesus' power. It's about being afraid of the very salvation you've been hoping for. A salvation that arrives, but maybe feels a little too real, too disruptive.

The Setup: Crossing to the Other Side

That moment sets the stage for what comes next. Jesus and his disciples cross the lake—to the "other side." This isn't just a geographical move; it's a symbolic one. They move from the Jewish region of Galilee to the gentile territory across the Sea of Galilee, often identified as the region of the Gerasenes. It's a place associated with the cast out, the unclean, and the other.

The gospels are deliberate in making this clear. Jesus steps off the boat and is immediately met by a man who embodies every possible form of uncleanness—he's naked, bleeding, living among the dead. Even the Romans, who occupy the area, have tried to restrain him and failed. This man is the definition of outsider.

A Name That Echoes Empire

When Jesus encounters him, he asks, "What is your name?" The response: "Legion, for we are many."

Legion isn't just a poetic term. It's a loaded political metaphor. A Roman legion was a very specific and terrifying force—thousands of soldiers stationed to maintain imperial control. The choice of that word speaks volumes. Jesus is not just confronting a personal torment. He's stepping into a confrontation with empire itself.

And what follows is no less symbolic: the unclean spirits are cast into a herd of pigs (also unclean), who then rush into the sea and drown. It's a dramatic exorcism, but it's also a subversive act. Jesus dismantles a symbol of oppressive power and does so without a sword. Not by matching force with force, but by showing a completely different kind of power.

The Fear of Salvation

This story parallels the calming of the storm in that it also invites us to reflect on what scares us about salvation. Sometimes, the scariest thing isn't the storm or the demon—it's the idea that Jesus really might love us exactly as we are. That he might love our enemy the same way. That we might not need an enemy at all to be whole.

We often long for a messiah who will defeat our enemies, affirm our positions, and secure our side. But Jesus seems intent on showing us that salvation isn't about reinforcing boundaries; it's about erasing them. Not about choosing sides, but about healing divides.

Salvation Without an Enemy

The real shock of the story is that Jesus doesn't just heal the man. He restores his humanity. He gives him back his name, his voice, his place in community. And in doing so, he invites us to imagine a salvation that doesn't require someone else to lose.

That's a hard sell in a world that often defines identity through opposition. But Jesus invites us to something deeper. A freedom not rooted in fear or enmity, but in belovedness. And not just ours, but everyone's.

The Invitation

So, what do we do with these stories of demon possession? Maybe we start by refusing to write them off as unsophisticated or irrelevant. Instead, we approach them with curiosity. We ask what they meant then, and what they might mean now.

We let them challenge us. We let them reveal the systems and stories that dehumanize. And we let them invite us into a world where love and liberation are never zero-sum.

Because sometimes, the most unsettling stories are the ones that lead us into the deepest truths.

And sometimes, salvation looks like crossing to the other side—and finding our freedom in the face of what once scared us most.