6-22-25 “Go Back and Tell”

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“Go Back and Tell”

I want to start with something funny. I think I’ve shared this story before—it’s about an elderly lady who accidentally locked her keys in her car while out shopping. She tried using a coat hanger to open it but had no luck. So, she prayed, asking God for help. Just then, a rough-looking guy pulled up on a motorcycle—leathers, tattoos, skull cap and all. Within fifteen seconds, he had her car unlocked.

She hugged him and said, “Lord, thank you for sending me this nice man.” He replied, “Lady, I’m not a nice man. I just got out of prison for grand theft auto.” She gave him an even bigger hug and said, “Lord, thank you. You even sent me a professional!”

Our Methodist slogan is: “Open minds, open hearts, and open doors.” But in reality, we often find ourselves judging people based on their appearance, background, or situation. Some of you may not comfortable to hear today’s story. Jesus goes somewhere his disciples never expected—the country of the Gerasenes, a Gentile region—a place no good Jew would go. And not only does Jesus go there, but He meets a man no one wants to meet: a man possessed by demons, living among the tombs, chained and cast out by society. The man might have been chained by custom, social policy, or people’s biased mindsets.

But Jesus went against Jewish law and custom: crossing boundaries between Jews and Gentiles, talking with a non-Jew, and even speaking with a man possessed by demon spirits. Jews considered the sick and demon-possessed unclean. Gentiles (non-Jews) were viewed as people not chosen by God. But Jesus crosses those boundaries. Because love crosses boundaries. Love goes beyond social customs.

Let me share a story. Some years ago, a small-town pastor in Minnesota visited the local jail every week. One day, he met a man named Carl who hadn’t spoken to anyone in months. Carl had been arrested for violent behavior, and no one in town wanted anything to do with him. But every Thursday, the pastor sat quietly across from Carl. No preaching. No expectations. Just presence. After four months of silence, Carl finally whispered, “You’re the first person who hasn’t been afraid of me.” And the healing began. Empathic presence brings powerful healing. Take a moment to look around you if who needs your empathic presence.

In the Gospel of Luke, the man Jesus meets is possessed by many demons—so many that they call themselves “Legion.” He is tormented, naked, homeless, and living among the dead. When Jesus asks his name, the man doesn’t even answer for himself—the demon responds.

It’s a picture of total disintegration—a life torn apart. Yet, when the townspeople return later, they find the man clothed, in his right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus. That is the power of Christ: to take what is broken, rejected, and unclean—and to bring healing and restoration.

But what’s striking is the townspeople’s response: fear. Not joy. Not relief. They are afraid—and they ask Jesus to leave.

Why? Why weren’t they happy for the man’s healing? Why were they afraid? Because healing disrupts the way we’ve made peace with brokenness. It upsets the status quo. They had chained the man and kept him far away. That felt safer. Jesus gave him back his dignity—and suddenly, they didn’t know what to do. They felt Jesus made messed up their social rules.

We are often drawn to people who are like us—same race, ethnicity, class, alma mater, hometown, political leaning, or hobby. But the Gospel calls us beyond those comfort zones.
When I was in seminary in Chicago, I rarely found Methodists around the campus where I lived. Nearby were McCormick Seminary (Presbyterian), the Lutheran School of Theology, the Chicago Theological Seminary (United Church of Christ), and the University of Chicago Divinity School (non-denominational). I identified as

Korean, female, Methodist, and a seminarian—but I still felt like an outsider. Even among the Korean student group, most were Presbyterian or Lutheran.
A few years later, I became a teaching assistant to a professor at the Lutheran school. Many of the Korean students who once excluded me were now in that program—and they began coming to me for help. How do you think I handled it? Should I have helped them?

Of course. I guided them with the best of what I had learned through my own experience. Later, they apologized. The boundaries of denomination broke down, and we formed a united body of international students. Eventually, they elected me president of that student body.
Healing and restoration come through forgiveness and embrace.

At the end of the story in today’s scripture, the man who was healed begs to go with Jesus. But Jesus says: “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.”
This man, who once lived among the dead, becomes the first missionary to the Gentiles. He doesn’t go to seminary. He doesn’t wear a robe or stand in a pulpit. He just has his story.
“I was lost. But now I’m found.” And that is enough. Your story—why you come to church—is enough to invite your loved ones to come, too.
So I ask:
• Who are the people in our communities still living among the “tombs”?
• Who do we avoid because they scare us, confuse us, or disrupt our comfort?
• Where do we need Jesus to cross the sea and meet us in our brokenness?

And I ask one more question: Where has Jesus already healed you—and is now calling you to “go back and tell”? Remember that at some point in our lives, we are healed by God’s grace. And God has placed you where you are now to tell others how God has worked in your life.

One small rural church I heard about was on the brink of closing. But they began to welcome local teens who were struggling—some kicked out of their homes, others in trouble at school. It wasn’t easy. Some older members were unsure. But they chose to stay open—literally and spiritually. Five years later, those teens lead worship, organize food drives, and have brought their families into the church. The church chose to go to the tombs—and life returned.

Last year, one of the teens stopped by my office and asked, “Can I come to your church’s youth program?” I said, “Sure! Why do you ask?” He replied, “Because I think nobody likes me.” When I heard that, my heart broke. Please pray for our youth and children. Tell them they are loved by us and God. Show them how much you care them.
Jesus isn’t afraid of demons, chains, or tombs. He isn’t afraid of what torments us or the people society casts aside. He comes to heal, to restore, and to send us back as witnesses.
So, beloved: Where is Jesus calling you to go? Who is waiting to hear what God has done for you? What chains are ready to fall? Because when Jesus shows up—even the dead come back to life.
I often received phone calls looking for help. They would say, “You are the only one who responded to my request.” Please, take a look around you. Who is still living in a tomb? Who is still bound by chains—of addiction, rejection, or destructive customs? Don’t forget the reason church exists here. Don’t forget the reason God calls you. Because Jesus saved you to be a witness—so that through you, others may also be saved. “Go and tell” how God worked for you.

Thanks be to God. Amen.