I was reading Mark 5 the other day, and a small detail in the story of the demon-possessed man caught my attention. Here's a quick summary of the story:
- Demon-possessed man lives in tombs and practices self-mutilation
- Jesus sends demons out of man and into herd of pigs
- Pigs drown
- Villagers hear about drowned pigs and see formerly demon-possessed man "clothed and in his full senses"
- Villagers are afraid and beg Jesus to leave the area.
What's up with these villagers? They had a living, breathing, tormented man living near their village, probably striking terror into their hearts and preventing them from moving freely around the area. This guy is healed and restored to his senses, and they don't express gratitude for their increased safety, much less happiness that he's been given his life back. No, they are afraid. They don't want any more of this funny business going on in their area. No, thanks.
Their fear stopped them from rejoicing about the miracle in front of them. Their fear prevented Jesus from doing more miracles in their village. Their fear was selfish.
Ouch.
That gives me a whole new perspective on fear. My fear doesn't only hurt me; it has the power to hurt those around me. My fear can essentially usher Jesus right out of the situation. Thought-provoking....
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