There are some folks you avoid at the grocery store. You see them halfway down aisle seven and suddenly remember you forgot something out in the truck. Then there are people everybody avoids.
That’s the kind of man we meet in Mark 5:1-20 (Please read). He lived in the tombs. Naked. Bleeding. Hollering at the moon like an old coyote who’s starving. Folks had tried to chain him down, but he’d snap those chains apart like rotten baling twine. Day and night, he wandered among the graves, cutting himself with stones.
If this happened in my small Eastern N.C. town where I grew up, there’d be Facebook warnings about him. “Don’t go down that road after dark.” “Lock your doors and hide your wife and kids.” This man wasn’t just troubled; he’s a disgrace. And here’s the thing about Jesus: He got in a boat on purpose to go find him. Jesus is rich in mercy toward sinners, not only when He first saves us, but through our whole messy journey with Him.
Jesus crossed the sea just for this one man. It wasn’t accidental. Jesus stepped onto Gentile soil, into an unclean region full of tombs, demons, and pigs. To a Jewish reader, Mark is stacking up uncleanness higher than pancakes at IHOP.
The Bible often points out that Jesus never avoided outsiders. He moved toward them. The people nobody wanted around were exactly the people Jesus seemed determined to find. That ought to steady our hearts, because some of us still imagine Jesus tolerating us once we finally get our act together.
But Mark 5 blows that idea to pieces. Jesus didn’t wait for this man to improve himself. He didn’t say, “Get cleaned up and then I’ll help you.” No, Jesus walked into the graveyard before the man could do a single thing for himself. That’s mercy. Not mercy for folks who look like they’ve had their act together since VBS. Mercy for graveyard people.
This man has completely lost himself. He’s violent, ashamed, and alone. The image of God in him looks buried under a mountain of darkness. And honestly, while most of us aren’t running around naked in cemeteries, sin still tears people apart the same way. Pride hardens us. Lust hollows us out. Bitterness poisons us. Addictions chain us. Fear drives us.
Yes, sin fractures us. We become less whole, less human, less free. That’s why salvation is not just Christ canceling our debt, but Christ restoring what sin tried to destroy. By the end of the story, the man is sitting clothed and in his right mind. What chains could not accomplish, Jesus accomplished with a word. That’s what Christ does. He doesn’t just pardon sinners, he remakes them.
One of the best chapters in the Bible is Ephesians 2, where Paul says, God is “rich in mercy”. Not average in mercy. Not cautious with mercy. Rich in mercy. Mercy is God’s natural posture toward His people in Christ. That’s important because many Christians secretly believe Jesus saves us by grace, but then gets irritated with us afterward. We think, “Well, He forgave me when I first came to Him, but surely He’s getting tired of the same old struggles.”
Jesus is not tightfisted with mercy. He doesn’t ration compassion as my dad did in the dog days of summer when he often said: “Boy, we ain’t trying to cool the entire town.” No, Christ’s mercy is abundant. Overflowing. Steady. The same mercy that saves us is the mercy that keeps carrying us.
That’s sanctification. Sanctification is not Jesus standing far off with crossed arms saying, ‘Well, hope you figure it out.’ It is Christ continuing to move toward weak people over and over again, because weak people are simply needy people who have stopped pretending otherwise.
Think about this demoniac. Nothing about him surprised Jesus. The chains, the howling, the uncleanness. And Christ follower, He is not shocked by your remaining sin either. That doesn’t make sin okay because we know sin destroys. This passage shows that clearly. But for those united to Christ, our ongoing battle with sin does not exhaust His mercy.
Sometimes we act like sanctification is Jesus reluctantly dragging us uphill while muttering under His breath. But the Gospel makes the opposite case: the heart of Christ is drawn toward needy sinners, not away from them. That means when you stumble again, the answer is not hiding from Jesus. It is running to Him. The devil says, “Stay away. You’ve failed too many times.” Jesus says: “Come to Me.” And He means it!!!
The townsfolk are another unsettling part of the story. The man is healed, restored, and free. And the locals ask Jesus to leave. Why? Because mercy disrupted their economy. The pigs are gone, and it shows people often prefer comfortable bondage over costly grace. Jesus has threatened their idols. For these folks, they would rather keep their pigs than welcome the Savior.
And before we throw stones at them, we ought to ask ourselves what we cling to instead of Christ. Sometimes we want Jesus nearby for emergencies, but not close enough to rearrange our lives. We want mercy that leaves our idols alone, but…He’s too kind to do that.
The healed man begs to go with Jesus, and surprisingly, Jesus tells him no. Instead, He says: “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” That’s evangelism right there! Not pretending you’ve always had it together or acting squeaky clean. Just telling folks: “Here’s what mercy did for me.
The man becomes a witness in the region and notice what his testimony centers on. The mercy of God by the Son of God. A Christian’s testimony should always smell like mercy. Mark 5 is about the kind of Savior Jesus is. He goes after ruined people. He restores what evil tears apart. He is not exhausted by our weakness. And He keeps showing mercy long after our conversion day.
Some of us need to hear that again. Heck, I NEED TO HEAR IT DAILY. You may still feel like a graveyard person some days. Still struggling. Still limping. Still fighting sins, you thought would’ve died years ago. But if you belong to Christ, His heart toward you has not cooled. He is rich in mercy. Not merely at the beginning but all the way home, where there will be no more sin…just MERCY.