Powers

I live by the sea. I didn’t always. I lived in the town once, but not now. Now they fear me. They should. Those provincial villagers, those fools, they should fear what I have. It wasn’t always this way. There was a time I had to obey, I had to follow their pathetic little rules in their pathetic little ways, but that was before. This is now. Now they fear me. Now I have the powers.

They don’t understand. They have tried to confine me. More than once they have come with chains. Pathetic. I can break their chains like rotten string. They have tried to imprison me and force me to conform to their rules. I don’t have to. I am beyond that now. No one tells me what to do any more.

Well, no human does.

The Powers do. They are the source of my freedom, of my strength. They are what gives me this strength that others fear, that others do not understand. Of course I obey them. I am free from the rules. I do what I want. I do what they want.

It cost so very much. Would I do it again? Would I open myself up to that power? It seemed the right thing at the time. I feared them. When I first saw them it was terrifying, but if I feared them so would others. Why did I let them in? I don’t recall exactly. No one feared me then, but they fear me now. I fear the powers, the people fear me. Those powers, those voices, they fear nothing.

This is why I live by the sea. Why I live among these tombs. I do not fear the dead, this place is a home. I move among the bones and the memorials to those who no longer breath. Others fear these dead men, their ghosts, but not me. I am one of them. A soul without a body. My body is still here, but not mine. I am home here. But I am not dead yet.

No, I know I am not dead because I still bleed. The stones are sharp and they cut me. I don’t mind. The pain, the blood. Through them I know that I am still alive, not a ghost among these tombs. The pain and the blood are things of life, not of death. The powers don’t bleed. They don’t feel pain. They are not of this world.

You can hear my voice and know I am not dead. I cry out and the world fears me. They fear me and the powers. Especially at night. Oh, the night. I live between this world and the world of the powers at night. I am not dead yet not really alive, full of their power and under it. It cost everything of mine for this freedom. This slavery is real freedom from this world.

I don’t need this world. I don’t need the rules of this world. Their pathetic little guides, their insignificant powers and strengths. Even the armies and empires they fight over, they never know the real power behind it all. I do. I have seen the face of that power. I feared it once. I fear it still, but it is part of me now. Now I have no use of all these other things. Even clothes are worthless. What point is there covering up a body I don’t really rule? Only those without real understanding are concerned with things like modesty. I am naked, but not ashamed. There is no shame in my world. Only fear.

Would I do it again? Would I embrace this fear? Does it matter? It’s a part of me now. I know that. The powers, I tried to control them, tried to back away, tried to not listen, but they won’t let me go. I am theirs now. I always will be. They rule, I obey. Maybe this is why I cry out, why I embrace the night and the pain and the fear. Maybe the night is like death and I will welcome death when it comes. Hell. The pit. The abyss. The powers have promised. I will be theirs forever there, serving them here, theirs forever there. Forever night.

There are two of us. We both have the powers but we may as well be alone. Another man. So many of the powers. We are not companions, but we serve them together. We always will. Until the end. Until night.

It’s not night now though, not our time to cry out and bleed and cause real fear. It’s day, bright and painful my heart cries out in hatred for this beauty. This world is really ugliness and power, not beauty, and this beauty as it appears is only an afront to the reality I know. The lake there, sparkling, the herd of pigs rooting around. The men watching them. They know I am here but I won’t pursue them. They already know the fear of me.

There’s a boat. There are so many boats moving to and fro on this sea, so many not knowing about me and just sailing past. I can’t reach them, but if I could they would not be so close. They keep a good distance anyway. Not this boat. It is coming right to the tombs. Strange. A mistake. I’ll show them. This is my land, my territory. Mine and the powers’.

As the boat touches against the shore, I pursue it. I run out like I have a thousand times before, but something is strange. That man. He’s a man like any other, isn’t he? No one remarkable. No one would think so. No person would.

And yet they fear him. The powers do. They fear nothing. No one. But I feel something I have never felt. Something through them. Men fear me, I fear them, they fear no one. Until today. Today they fear him.

They fear him in a way I have never feared them. I know they are more powerful than I. I know because I have seen their power, been their power, so I fear them. Their fear is so much more than that. I didn’t know there was a fear like this. Who could he be? What kind of power is in him that my powers are quaking at the mere sight? Who is this man? No man has that kind of power.

I hear his words, but they aren’t to me. It’s like he can see past me to them, like his eyes see what I have seen, what is in me, but without fear. Can that be? Can man not fear them? He doesn’t fear them, he commands them.

Leave. Go away. Get out of him.

The audacity. No one commands them. Now he will see their power. I almost regret it. Would that it could be. Would that someone could send them out again. If only. But it can’t be. It’s impossible. I made my choice. I would beg him if I could, if I thought for a second it would work. I have no power over my voice. My heart begged, maybe, but could it? Never. I am theirs. They will never leave.

I can hear them speak to him, but not like they speak to others. To others they command, they mock. It’s my voice, but their words, as it has been so often before. This is not like before. This time I hear my voice begging.

What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Please, I beg you, don’t torment me! Don’t send me to the abyss!

Beg? How could they beg? Who did they say? The Son of God? Can it be? Is it even possible? He would have that power. No one of this world could command the powers, but if He is not of this world…

What is your name?

Again, he isn’t asking me. Do I have a name now? Could one like him want to know it?

We are legion, we are many.

They answer him because they must. They submit. More than that, they are quaking. He could torment them. He could destroy them with a word, without a word, with a look, with a thought. This is power, but not like I have known before. I have known power with ugliness and fear and pain. This is power with beauty. Even love. Not for me, no one could love me, but love nonetheless. He could free me. He really could.

Please, let us go into those pigs.

They ask for permission. He commanded them to leave me and they dare not disobey. This is not a fight, a struggle, they cannot hope to resist. These powers that have ruled my every thought, my every moment for longer than I remember, they are begging him for permission.

He gives it. Is it a gesture? A word? A look? It is so dismissive I don’t know for sure. Then they are gone.

There are no words. One moment I am theirs and the next I am free. Free of the fear and the voices and the evil strength. Free of the power that flowed through and tormented me. Free of it all. In that moment I am free in a way I never thought I could be. Yet I am a slave.

To Him. Jesus. They called him Jesus. Son of the Most High God. I know now there is no freedom, not apart from Him. I served them to be free of any authority, but now there is nothing else but to serve Him. I am on my knees. Tears in my eyes, but tears of a joy like I have never known. Free to serve Him.

There is a commotion, some noise. It’s those pigs. A herd now possessed, they run into the lake and drown as one. Of course. Legion. They destroy. Even dumb animals. No wonder. Even dumb animals are smart enough to know the fear of Legion, to prefer death to life with them. I wasn’t smart enough, but the pigs were.

The next moments pass in wonder. I am clothed again, at peace again, sitting at His feet. Listening. Learning. He teaches and guides me. He forgives me. I know He can, somehow. All I have done, all the pain I caused, everything I destroyed, it was all against Him really. Yet He forgives. Nothing has ever been sweeter than His words. It seems so short yet it could have been forever. His power made me a man again.

Noise. Voices. I have heard them before. They have come for me before. They came with chains and clubs, to confine me, to stop me. It never worked. They never need to do that again. I have found a greater power. It can break even stronger chains, but they won’t need the chains of metal to use on me again.

I see them approach. I know that look. I have seen it. Fear. They are afraid. Not afraid of me though. I am normal, a man again, not the beast I was. Why are they afraid?

Jesus. Of course. They feared my powers, they feared the strength of Legion. They fear what they can’t control, and they never controlled me. They could never hope to control Him. How could they? His power, even I don’t understand that power. It set me free, but they don’t know that. All they know is they couldn’t defeat Legion and He did.

Leave? How could they ask Jesus to leave? Very well. He leaves; I will leave. My life is now at His feet, there is nothing else for me. There never really was.

Please let me go with you.

If only He will let me. Let me be one of these men that get to go with Him.

No.

No? I can’t? Why? Can I not be Yours? After all you have done for me? What else could I do? What else could I be?

Please my Lord! Please let me go with you! I beg of you…

No. Stay.

His words. I cannot disobey, but I want nothing more than to be at His feet. I’ll do anything. Please. Anything at all.

Go back home to your own people and report to them how much the Lord has done for you and how He has had mercy on you.

Home? My people? But You are my people now.

Home. They don’t know. They haven’t heard. I am not the only one serving the Wrong. I went further than they, it’s true, but they are slaves just like I was. If I can be free, so can they. How could I be so selfish? How could I not see? These people fear Jesus because they don’t know Him. Not like I know Him. He is freedom. He is love. He is real power. No one need fear again, not with Him.

So I go. Home to my family. They lost me, they tried to keep me from my fate, but they were not strong enough. He is. Let me tell them He is.

Home to my town. They knew me as I was. They feared me. They fear Jesus, but I must tell them how they can love him. Who he is.

As I watch that boat sail away with my Lord, I know my life now. I will work again, live again like the man I once was, but nothing like him. No, I must tell them all what happened. Jesus will come back. I will see him again, I know it. When he does, they will not fear Him. They will welcome Him. I know it. They must. I will tell them what He did, what God did, I will share mercy and, somehow, they will know him as I do.

In Power.