Sermon: Luke 8:26-39 Pentecost 3

June 22, 2025
Rev. Veronica Alvarez
Faith-La Fe

How often do we feel that we do not deserve God's attention?

How often do we think that we must first approach Him, that we must first have strong

faith, that we must first pray well for God to notice us?

But the first reading from Isaiah 65:1-9 tells us otherwise.

It shows us that it is not we who take the first step, but God. The text says:

“I let myself be sought by those who did not ask for me; I said, ‘Here I am, here I am,’ to

people who did not call on my name.”

God is like that.

He finds us first. He reaches us before we have the strength to call on him.

He seeks us even if we don't have all the words to pray, even if our lives are not in order,

even if we are tired, broken, trapped in a life that seems chaotic.

To all of us, God continues to say, “Here I am.”

This is exactly what we see in today's Gospel.

Jesus goes where no one else wants to go.

He goes where everyone has given up on a man.

He goes where death and loneliness reign... and right there, in that dark place, God says

again, “Here I am.”

The Gospel tells us that Jesus and his disciples crossed the lake to reach the land of the

Gerasenes. For the Jews, it was an unclean place, a place to avoid. For Jesus, there are no

territories where his love cannot enter.

He goes where there is suffering, where life seems to have been extinguished. He goes where

a demon-possessed man, isolated and naked, screams and hurts himself. He goes where

others see a hopeless case... to give him life.

And this image is not just for the past. It is for us today. Because even though we do not

speak of “legions of demons” as they did then, we all know forces that bind us, that rob us

of peace, that seem stronger than us: fear, addiction, violence, hatred, despair, loneliness.

Let's be honest: we have all felt something like this at one time or another.

We have all had a weight that drags us down, a pain that we cannot name.

And that is where Jesus comes in. That is where He continues to be present.

Jesus does not flee from chaos. He does not avoid the man whom everyone has abandoned.

He does not retreat in the face of screams or darkness. On the contrary, He goes where

others do not want to go.

He approaches with authority, frees the man, and restores him.

The text describes him sitting at Jesus' feet, clothed and in his right mind.

Because our Lord does not come just to calm us down for a little while, He comes to give us

back our whole life, to give dignity to what evil has tried to destroy.

Now,

there is something in this text that should disturb us. When people see the man freed, are

they happy, do they celebrate?

No.

On the contrary, they are afraid. And they ask Jesus to leave.

Why?

Because true liberation breaks patterns, changes plans, disturbs.

It confronts us with the unknown, and sometimes we prefer to live with the demons we

know rather than risk the transformation that God offers.

This continues to happen. It continues to happen to us as individuals and as a community.

We are surrounded by uncertainty, overwhelmed by the news, distressed by concerns for our

children.

We feel trapped by forces that seem greater than ourselves.

Or, sometimes, we feel like the people of the town: we are afraid to change, afraid that the

light of Christ will expose what we do not want to see..

But Jesus does not go away. He continues to find us where we least expect him.

He keeps reminding us that we are loved, that we deserve to be saved, that we have a place in

history and in God's kingdom.

And look at the man who has been set free.

The man who had been lost begs Jesus, “Let me go with you.” And Jesus responds with

something that is also for us:

“Go home. Go to your family. Tell them what God has done for you.” In other words, “Go.

Speak. Share your story.”

Therein lies the call for us today.

Jesus frees us, restores us, saves us... and then sends us to testify.

He sends us to our family, to our community, to our neighbor who is afraid, to the friend

who is tired of waiting, to the stranger who carries a burden they cannot bear alone.

Each of us has a story.

Perhaps it is a moment when despair gave way to hope, when guilt gave way to mercy,

when isolation found companionship.

Those moments are not to be kept to ourselves. They are to be shared, so that others may

find the same Christ who once reached out to us.

Today we receive this word at a time when many in our community are living in fear and

uncertainty. There are rumors of wars, raids, of arrests, of families being separated. and this

word comes to remind us that we are not alone.

Jesus does not abandon us. He does not retreat in the face of our pain, does not escape from

our chains. On the contrary, he continues to draw near to free us from what torments us, to

give life to what seems dead in us, to give us strength to continue fighting.

And we experience this truth in a tangible way every time And we experience this truth in a

tangible way every time we gather around Christ's table.

Because this table is not for a privileged few, nor for those who have their whole lives

figured out. This table is for everyone.

For those who have papers and those who don't.

For those who speak Spanish and those who don't.

For those who live in peace and for those who live with their doors closed out of fear.

At this table we are one in Christ. Here we are loved, strengthened to face whatever may

come.

So come as you are, with your questions, with your fears, with your wounds, with all your

burdens. Here a Savior awaits you whose love knows no bounds.

And then, let us leave here with confidence.

Not to live in terror, but to live in faith.

Not to shut ourselves in, but to open ourselves and our hearts to our neighbor, to our friend,

to the stranger who is also afraid.

Let us say with our lives that our Lord is still present,

still saying, “Here I am”;

still liberating, still uniting.

This is the promise that no one can take away from us.

This is the strength that no one can take away from us.

This is the peace that comes from Jesus and that no law, no wall, no threat can extinguish.

Let us go. Confident. United. Because we are a people loved and liberated by Christ.

Amen.