Mercy, Demons, and Divine Wisdom: Lessons from the Gadarene Demoniac
Mark 5:1–20; Luke 8:26–39; Mark 6:53–56
There are moments in Scripture that leave us scratching our heads, not because we doubt God’s goodness, but because His ways stretch far beyond our understanding. One such moment is found in the account of the Gadarene demoniac—a man tormented by a legion of demons until he encounters Jesus and is gloriously set free.
The scene is dramatic. Jesus arrives in the region of the Gerasenes (also called the Gadarenes), and immediately this man—naked, wild, living among the tombs—comes running. The demonic oppression is so fierce that chains could not restrain him. Night and day, he cried out and gashed himself with stones (Mark 5:5). It’s a picture of absolute spiritual devastation.
But when Jesus speaks, the demons are terrified. In Luke’s version, they “were imploring Him not to command them to go away into the abyss” (Luke 8:31, NASB). Instead, they beg to be sent into a nearby herd of pigs. And Jesus agrees.
This is where I find myself troubled.
Jesus showed mercy—even to the demons.
Why not send them into the abyss? Why not take these malevolent beings off the field of battle entirely? Wouldn’t that spare future victims from their influence?
This story raises a deep question: Why does God sometimes show mercy to those we would rather see judged?
Yet at the same time, I know this: I never want Him to withhold mercy from me when I cry out for it. I am daily dependent on His compassion, not because I deserve it, but because He is good.
But the story doesn’t end there. The man, now in his right mind, begs to go with Jesus. Who wouldn’t? After a life of torment, the one who rescued him is sailing away. But again, Jesus does the unexpected. He says no.
“Go home to your people and report to them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how He had mercy on you.” (Mark 5:19, NASB)
Instead of joining Jesus, he becomes the first missionary to the Gentile region of the Decapolis.
At first glance, that may seem like a lesser gift.
Why not let him stay in the presence of the one who healed him?
Why not reward his faith with closeness?
But when we read just a chapter later, something remarkable happens.
In Mark 6:53–56, Jesus returns to this region. This is His second visit. And what does He find? Not wild-eyed fear or rejection. This time, the people recognize Him. They run through the entire region, bringing the sick on mats. Wherever He goes—villages, cities, countryside—they beg Him to heal. And He does.
Could it be that the formerly demon-possessed man did exactly what Jesus asked? Could it be that his testimony—so unlikely, so compelling—softened the hearts of his neighbors? That the one who was once feared became a bridge for many to meet the Savior?
And here’s where my earlier trouble finds resolution.
Maybe, just maybe, Jesus’ mercy to the demons was not weakness or indifference. Maybe it was part of a larger plan. What if those very demons—now disembodied again after the pigs drowned—went on to oppress others in the region? What if the people who had once dismissed Jesus now found themselves desperate, afflicted, and open to healing?
It’s impossible to know for sure. But we do know this: the result of Jesus’ two surprising decisions—sparing the demons, and sending the man away—was a great harvest. Many came to Him. Many were healed. And God was glorified.
This challenges me.
It challenges my sense of justice.
It challenges my assumptions about what mercy should look like.
It challenges my desire to always understand what God is doing in the moment.
But it also comforts me.
Because it means that even when I don’t see the full picture—when God’s choices puzzle me or even seem troubling—He is still working wisely and purposefully. The same Jesus who calmed the storm, cast out demons, and brought peace to a tortured soul, is orchestrating events for the good of many and for the glory of the Father.
Paul writes in Romans 11:33:
“Oh, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways!” (NASB)
That certainly fits here.
So what can we take away from this strange and powerful encounter?
1. Jesus’ mercy is wider than ours.
He shows compassion even where we would not. That doesn’t mean evil goes unchecked—but it does mean God’s mercy serves His purposes, not our preferences.
2. Testimony matters.
The man set free became a messenger of freedom. His past didn’t disqualify him—it empowered him. Your story can be the seed that leads others to Christ.
3. God’s no is sometimes a greater yes.
The man wanted to follow Jesus physically, but was sent out with a mission. That “no” led to the transformation of a whole region. When God says no to us, it’s often because He is saying yes to a bigger plan.
4. God’s timing is perfect.
From the first encounter to the second visit, we see the ripple effects of God’s grace unfold over time. Just because you don’t see immediate fruit doesn’t mean your obedience was wasted.
In a world where darkness still lingers, and the enemy still prowls, we can take comfort in knowing this: Jesus has authority. Over storms. Over sickness. Over demons. Over death. And even when His choices confuse us, His wisdom is perfect.
So let us trust Him.
Let us tell our stories.
And let us welcome the hurting—knowing that, through mercy and mystery alike, Jesus is still drawing people to Himself.