ΧΙ HOME MINISTRIES In which a husband, ambitious to serve Christ, is advised to go down to his own house and show what great things the Lord has done for him. And as he was entering into the boat, he that had been possessed with demons besought him that he might be with him. " Jesus: Go to thy house unto thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and how he had mercy on thee." And he went his way, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men marvelled.-MARK V, 18-20. THE central figure in the miracle of Gadara is a mere silhouette; but the important facts are so clearly stated that we have no difficulty in completing it. We know, to begin with, that this man had a home; though, under present circumstances, it was little or nothing to him. He had begun life in the usual way, leading his true love from the altar to a modest fireside. How bright the outlook, then! How proud and happy the young parents in the midst of their increasing household. "His wee bit ingle, blinking bonnily, His clean hearthstane, his thriftie wifie's smile, Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil." But why should a man with a home be dwelling here among the tombs? How came he to this desolate place? It is the old story. Facilis descensus Averni! He had sinned away his birthright. His downward course began, no doubt, with the intoxicating cup. One vice followed another until the force of habit controlled him. Bad company, nights away from home, sensuality; thus he went from bad to worse until the happy home was desolate, his wife's heart broken, his children afraid of him. At length reason was unseated. "Be not deceived, God is not mocked; whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." His heart being open, a troop of evil spirits came in and took possession. The law was invoked in vain; he broke his chains and fled. And here he is among the tombs, a raving maniac, muttering to himself and making night hideous with his cries. He has lost everything; home, social standing, self-respect. is, indeed, a desperate case. His One day the Lord came over the lake in a little boat with his disciples. On the way he quieted the stormy sea. As they were landing, the demoniac came running toward them, his hair flying, his clothes in tatters, his face distorted, foam issuing from his lips. Oh, monstrous power of sin! And Jesus said, "Thou unclean spirit, come out of him." At that word of command the furies fled and the man lay sobbing before his feet. It was a mighty miracle, mightier than the stilling of the tempest. No other marvel is comparable with the transformation of character. ""Twas great to call a world from naught, 'tis greater to redeem." This man is a new creature in Christ Jesus; new will, new heart, new conscience, new life. Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. It is a moral revolution, wrought in a moment by the power of God. How do we know that the demoniac was thus renewed? By the fact that we see him presently "clothed and in his right mind." This means that he has regained his self-respect. Yesterday he would have boasted of his personal liberty, his right to be clothed or unclothed as he pleased; now he is thinking not of himself only, but of his fellow-men. He is "in his right mind." Previously he had been wrong-minded as to all most-important things; but now, like the prodigal, he has "come to himself" and sees Christ and religion and morality in their proper light. And observe his frank confession of Christ. He attaches himself to this despised Nazarene and cares not who knows it. The desire to keep one's religion under cover is always a suspicious circumstance. Viola, in "Twelfth Night," says of her diffident sister, "She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, feed on her damask cheek." A shrinking girl under such conditions might act in this manner: but it is inconceivable that a man under conviction of sin, looking to Christ for salvation, should be unwilling to avow it. Let it be noted, also, that he wanted to do something to show his gratitude. This is the first impulse of a truly regenerate life. A surrender to Christ is not the sum total of the Christian life, but only the beginning of it. In the hour when Paul heard the voice saying, "I am Jesus!" he straightway answered, 66 'Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" And his subsequent life was all doing. "If any man will come after me," said Jesus, "let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me." There is no discharge in this war. Still further, the man of Gadara is ambitious to do some great thing. "Let me be with thee," he cries. "Let me sit at thy feet as a disciple. Let me follow thee. Let me join in proclaiming thy glory as the Saviour of men." So far as personal experience went he was thoroughly qualified to be a preacher like James or Peter or John; but otherwise he had scant qualifications. Every man to his place. "The body is not one member, but many. Shall the foot say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body? Or the ear, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body? Are all apostles, all prophets, all teachers? There are diversities of gifts and of operation; but it is the same God which worketh all in all." The supreme evidence of this man's conversion, however, was his acquiescence in the Master's will, "Go home to thy friends," said Jesus, "and tell what great things the Lord hath done for thee." I wish we might have seen his home-coming. It may be that an old mother had for years been praying for his return and hoping against hope. God bless the faithful mothers, who pray and never faint! There she sat, her withered hands folded in her lap, as he stood in the doorway. Who shall tell the gladness in her heart? Who shall paint the brightness in her dimmed eyes? It would appear that a wife also awaited him. Time was when she passed with him under an arch of flow ers into the joys and cares of wedded life. He had promised to love, honor and protect her. But in the course of the years there came a cooling of love, neglect, absence far into the night, a returning with red eyes and angry words, and oh, the horrible breath of the wine-cup. Then, one night, he did not return at all. Where had he gone? Some of the neighbors had seen him wandering among the tombs, gashed and bleeding, muttering to himself. And there he abode, self-exiled. On stormy nights she lay awake and thought of him.-God be praised for conjugal love; the love of the faithful wife that weathers all gales; the patience that holds fast to early vows and the memory of former joys and the hope of a better time coming. He sees her standing yonder by the door. "Wife, I've come back," he cries. "I've come back to begin again. I've seen Jesus of Nazareth and he has cast out the demons. I want to return to you and the children; to life and God." 66 And his children, how they had dreaded his approach! They knew his savage ways. They had been accustomed to run and hide when he drew near, waving his arms and uttering blasphemies. Now they stood at a distance, awe-struck and wondering; they had never seen it on this fashion. Come here," he says, "little daughter, I will not hurt you"; and the eldest reluctantly approaches. He parts her hair from her forehead and with sad, loving words makes his confession, "I've been a bad father, dear; but I've met Jesus of Nazareth and the demons are gone." His other children sidle near, wondering. At what? At the same mystery of regeneration which puzzles the older people. And they allow themselves to be taken |