Homily, Christ Did Not Come to Torment You
Second Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 7C, 2025
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Plant City, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a
Psalm 42 and 43
Galatians 3:23-29
Luke 8:26-39
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Mabeline was a basset hound. We adopted her when I was just 7 or 8 years old and she was the sweetest, most beautiful dog, with her long, droopy ears and her long, droopy cheeks and her short, stubby legs. It took a period of adjustment, however, for Mable to really be at home in the Larson household. She loved my mom and us kids right away, but she wasn’t so sure about my dad. Anytime he’d come in the room, she’d run the other way. If they were nearby one another, Mable kept her eyes on dad. She certainly did not want to be touched by him. We assumed she must have been abused by men at one point and it had completely tainted the way she saw my dad. She had learned that women and children were safe, but men were a danger. Over the years as she settled into our home, she came to warm up to dad, but it took some time and the opportunity to build up some trust first.
I’m thinking about Mable today because it occurs to me that a lot of people in our world look at God the way Mable looked at my dad. They see God as someone dangerous, whose wrath could spill out on them at any moment. And if not wrath, at least some form of judgment or disappointment. I was talking to someone not long ago who said to me, “I know God loves me, but I also kind of think God is really disappointed in me.” The person had come back to church after a long time, and didn’t feel ready to receive communion because she thought God was upset with her.
Have you ever felt like God was upset with you? Have you ever felt like maybe God was punishing you for something? Or that God’s love for you was somehow mixed in with deep disappointment in your life decisions? Have you ever thought to yourself, “God might love me, but he probably doesn’t like me.”
In our gospel passage today we hear the story of a man possessed by demons who encounters Jesus in his own country, far from Jesus’ home in Galilee. And immediately upon seeing him the man cries out, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me.” Jesus had barely yet spoken a word to this man, and yet he was filled with fear. He was ready for Jesus to strike him. To hurt him. To punish him. “I beg you,” he says, “do not torment me.” So Jesus asks him his name. But he had forgotten it. He had been tortured and abused for so long by his demons that the only name he could give was “Legion” because there were many in him.
And then the demons themselves speak up, also begging him not to torture them. Begging him not to send them into the abyss. Again, before Jesus can ever address them, they are ready for the back of his hand. They are ready to be struck down into darkness.
And yet one of the most peculiar things happens. The man and the demons receive not the back of his hand, but a word of compassion. For the man it came in being freed of his oppressors. For the demons it came in being given permission not to go into the abyss, but into the pigs. Both the man and the demons expected to be punished by Jesus in the most severe of ways, and instead both the man and the demons found their cry for mercy answered. The man responded to Christ’s mercy by following Jesus to new life; the demons responded by fleeing from him to their own destruction.
Scholars will tell you that the primary message of this part of Luke is to demonstrate Jesus’ power and authority. Just before this story is the story of Jesus calming the storm and his disciples ask about him, “Who is this? He commands even the wind and the water, and they obey him.” And here in today’s passage he commands not only the natural world, but the supernatural. Jesus has power not only over the physical realm, but the spiritual. And the demons are cast out. But perhaps most striking about Jesus’ authority is not that he had it, but how he holds it.
In this part of the ancient world, the primary example of authority was the Roman Empire. The foreign, occupying force that had wielded its power over the peoples of this land into submission. It was an empire that proclaimed peace with one hand, with an iron fist in the other. It was an Empire that reminded people of its authority through the constant presence of military legions in the area. It was an authority that offered to its subjects the choice of obedience or the cross.
If your only experience of authority comes with torment, you begin to expect torment in every experience of authority. And so the mere sight of Jesus, and the recognition of his authority filled this man and his legion with fear. “Do not torment me.”
But Jesus’ authority is not like the authority waged by those of this world. Jesus’ power is not like the power that weighs down upon others in this world. Jesus’ peace is not like the peace that is established with the sword in this world. Jesus’ authority is waged with deep empathy. It is held with complete grace. It is offered with unending compassion. Jesus’ authority is absolute power clothed in absolute love.
So that even the demons, in their fear of torment, experience a glimpse of compassion. And it is not at Christ’s hand they are destroyed, but at their own.
Perhaps the reason that so many of us believe that God is angry at us or disappointed in us or ready to punish us is that we have experienced anger and disappointment and punishment in this world and in this life. But in reality those beliefs have nothing to do with how God actually sees us and everything to do with how we see the world. That because we have experienced anger, disappointment, and punishment from others, we assume we will experience it from God as well. “What have you to do with me Jesus? Please don’t torment me.”
But Christ does not come to torment you. He does not come to punish you. He does not come to express his disappointment in you. He is here to love you. He is here to offer you grace. He is here to free you from those constant feelings of not being enough.
That’s what the man experienced in this passage, and it changed his life. He encountered not the God he expected—the God of punishment, but the God that is—the God of love.
You’ll notice in this passage that after the man had been healed, his community came out to see what happened. And yet again, before Jesus can even get a word in, they too are afraid. The passage says they are so seized with fear, they beg Jesus to go away. And so Jesus goes. But this time, he has a messenger that he leaves with them. “Go, and declare how much God has done for you,” Jesus tells the man. In other words, go speak to your neighbors who are filled with fear about a God that they do not have to fear. Go, and tell them about the love of Christ.
This morning, that is my message to you. We don’t have to look at God like Mabeline looked at my dad. We don’t have to be afraid of God’s wrath. God loves you. Now go, and declare how much God loves you to everyone you meet. Amen.
Questions for Reflection
- In what ways do I perceive God’s love in my life, and how does that contrast with feelings of fear or disappointment I may have about my relationship with Him?
- Have I ever felt like I was being punished or judged by God for my decisions? How can I reframe those thoughts to align more with the message of God’s unconditional love?
- Reflect on moments in my life where I have experienced compassion instead of judgment. How did those moments transform my understanding of myself and my relationship with God?
- In what areas of my life do I struggle with feelings of inadequacy? How can I invite Christ’s love into those spaces to experience freedom from those burdens?
- How can I share the message of God’s love and compassion with others who may be living in fear of judgment, just as the healed man was instructed to do in the Scripture?
Thoughts on Faith 