2025-02-05
Brooke Strong
Sermon Text...
Pastor Vicki McGaw
February 2, 2025
Federated Church
Years ago, when I was a stay-at-home mom, I delivered meals-on-wheels once a week while my kids were in school. There was a man on my route who lived in an apartment that was filthy. There was trash covering the floor and he always answered the door without a shirt, exposing a dirty, burly chest. This man never made eye contact but, in an attempt to win him over, I always smiled widely and said hello as I handed him his meals. He never responded, just looked down, took his meals and turned away.
Apparently another delivery person must have complained about him because, one week I was told to begin delivering his meals through the front window rather than at door. While this felt rather awkward to me, I did as I was told but continued to smile and say hello every week. The response was always the same: he lowered his eyes, took his meals and turned away.
Then one week, the man made momentary eye contact. I felt like I’d won a prize! This continued for many weeks until one day, when I said hello, he responded with a grunt. I nearly did a cartwheel on my way back to the car. I was so excited that I had made a crack in the wall with which he had surrounded himself !
The man at the window reminded me a lot of the man in our gospel story today. Both men clearly had some things that kept them from interacting in a socially accepted manner and, whether as a result of the treatment they received or because of whatever ailments they suffered, they were isolated from the rest of the community.
The similarities of these two men show us that some things have not really changed in two thousand years. When we are faced with things we don’t understand, our default is to avoid contact. Yet Jesus offers another way when he encounters the Gerasene man and asks him his name. What happens next demonstrates the power of truly seeing and accepting another person. By simply acknowledging his humanity, his unique identity as a child of God, the Gerasene fell to his feet and, the text tells us, returned to his right mind. He was healed of his illness simply by being recognized and restored to the community by Jesus.
Studies by NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Health, show that nearly one quarter of Americans suffer with some form of mental illness but notes that most do so in silence. Let that sink in a moment. Look down your pew. Realize that, statistically speaking, it is likely that someone in your pew is hurting . . . and they are afraid to tell you.
This breaks my heart! Every week, we share the names in our bulletin and in our prayers of people who are dealing with physical illness. We pray for those having surgery, those undergoing treatment for a variety of ailments and those who are grieving the loss of a loved one. But yet, even in such a caring church as this one, there may be as many as 45 people sitting here this morning hurting and too afraid to share their pain because of the stigma that surrounds mental illness in our culture.
This despite a powerful scripture like our story this morning that shows us that by simply acknowledging the man who had been possessed by demons, Jesus was able to heal him. Doesn't this suggest that we in the church today are called to embrace those struggling with mental, emotional or spiritual illness so that we can be instruments of healing and wholeness? Jesus didn’t turn away from those with “troubled spirits.” Instead he listened to their lives, showed God’s care, and offered hope and healing love. We can too but we must start by breaking the silence!
In the three months that I have been privileged to serve as your interim minister, I have had multiple – more than two or three – conversations with members who have shared the emotional struggles that they or someone they love are facing. I listen with empathy . . . because I understand this on a deep level.
For twenty years, from the time she entered high school, our daughter suffered from chronic severe depression and generalized anxiety disorder. I still remember when she first showed symptoms. Mike and I immediately sought a good therapist for her who also connected her to a psychiatrist who could prescribe appropriate medication.
But then my husband said something that surprised me even though it is an all-too-common response: “We can’t let anyone know about this,” he said emphatically. Equally emphatically, I told him we absolutely had to tell her teachers and guidance counselor. We were both very involved in the school district, including his previous service on the school board, so Mike was concerned about repercussions on how others in the community would see us.
As we talked, however, Mike quickly began to see that his initial response was one shaped by our culture, but not at all helpful for our daughter. We talked about the fact that if she had been diagnosed with diabetes or an allergy, we would have notified everyone immediately and would expect, and receive, support and accommodations.
And so we shared Megan’s diagnosis. The responses varied. Many people were shocked to learn that our active, social, honor roll student from a stable home had depression. Some began to treat both her and us differently. Megan handled it amazingly well, advocating for herself when she needed to, and seeking our support when she required it.
Sadly, Megan’s illness was persistent and plagued her for just about 20 years. She sometimes lost jobs because, in the midst of a depressive episode, she would sleep through countless alarms and fail to show up for a shift. Her grades suffered and, as her anxiety grew, our extremely gifted pianist had to change her major because simply leading a music therapy session with a small group stirred too much panic in her. Although there were a few scary moments when she considered suicide, for the most part, Megan was a fighter who successfully battled her illness and the stigma that came with it.
Finally, when she was 34-years-old, with a great therapist she trusted, the doctors seemed to hit upon the right combination of medication, and she came to us one day in tears saying that finally she knew what it felt like to feel like a complete, healthy human being. She was elated as were we. Sadly, less than a year later, she was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of ovarian cancer that took her life just seven weeks later.
I share this with you not to evoke your sympathy for Meg or for us, but simply because it is a story that is mine to tell. My prayer is that by sharing our struggle with mental illness, if you or someone you love is hurting, that you too might be willing to share your journey and seek the support of the community around you. Please know that I am always willing to listen and support you.
This has been a very hard week. Two plane crashes, a barrage of government changes, and on a very personal level for many of you, the passing of a beloved former pastor. There is much, and likely will continue to be, much to process that can feel overwhelming. But it is by reaching out to others, relying on the gift of a caring community, that we are able to cope. Please be sure to do that in the days ahead.
Imagine if we who proclaim to follow Jesus would do as he did and restore to community those who have been isolated by the stigma of mental and emotional illness. All it took was Jesus truly seeing the demon-possessed man, asking his name, and treating him with the love and respect that is his as a child of God. Can we commit to do the same so that those who are hurting – both those in our midst and those in the wider community – will risk sharing all of who they are, trusting that they will be accepted and loved completely just as God created them? May it be so. Amen.