Author Darlene J. Conard

Although the Bible doesn’t provide specific details about Legion, there are many possibilities regarding his life. The Holy Spirit inspired the story you’re about to read. Have we ever considered what it would be like to walk in their shoes? I encourage you to embrace these stories and make them personal. Join me on this journey as we walk in the Word together! Enjoy my new series, “Walking in Their Shoes.” Legion Mark 5:1-20

A discord of a thousand voices clawed at his mind, each demanding attention and drowning out his thoughts. “When will it stop?” he screamed, the desperation evident in his voice as he tugged at his disheveled, unwashed hair. Agony flooded his soul as the cave he sat in echoed his words. “When, Tuvya, when will it stop?” Violently, he shook his head, desperately trying to eliminate the voices taunting his mind. He reached for another sharp-edged rock to use as a weapon against himself and began cutting. “If for a little while it will relieve pain, so be it!” Grinding his teeth, he increased the pressure. Crimson droplets became an oozing stream dripping on his mutilated body. The coldness of the cave was familiar to his naked body. It didn’t bother him; after all, it matched his soul. Embedded in his wrist were tainted wounds from the heavy shackles he ripped off, defying their purpose. The iron cuffs, which were heavy and cold to the touch, remained firmly fastened to his ankles. The chains attached to the cuffs rattled with every step he took, serving as a constant reminder of his captivity.

He habitually reached down at his feet, grabbing one of the sharp rocks he collected to slice his flesh again.

“There, that’s better,” he said. Scars upon scars pleaded, “Help me!” But no one could. Every day, his identity faded away more and more as the darkness widened its mouth, slowly swallowing him to abide in its belly. Legion is who the voices said he was.

 What was normal for everyone else couldn’t even be touched by him. His heart was swollen with grief, and he began wailing. The torment inside of him couldn’t be eased—no voice, no hope, and no deliverance, nothing left except to die in misery. Soon, Tuvya would be no more. Isn’t that why he was chained to the caves which held the dead?

If —someone could pity him, if it were possible, only— if. They laugh at him, through him, and about him.

The demons that possessed him whispered persistently, drilling the words into him: “It’s too late! There is no hope for you! This is your life, living among the dead; you belong to us now!” He felt a suffocating sense of despair as he wondered why he couldn’t just die quickly instead of enduring this slow agony. Tears streamed down his cheeks before his sobs turned into violent, desperate laughter.

“Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and billows are gone over me.”  Psalms 42:7

Jesus stood still, feeling the gentle caress of the sudden breeze as it playfully tussled His black hair. He closed His eyes, savoring the moment as the wind embraced Him. Noises from the foreground completely faded. A desperate cry, laden with anguish and longing, sliced through the stillness of many nights. Carried by the wind, it wrapped around him like a shroud, filling his ears with a desperate cry. The sound rippled through the air, drawing Him in and compelling him to seek the source of such sorrow.

To be continued …..

Feel free to forward it to anyone you wish.  My mission is to encourage everyone to follow our Lord Jesus Christ with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength. ©Darlene J. Conard Vision Ministries 2024.   This may not be republished or used without the author’s written consent. The photograph is AI-generated.

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