Sermon – Chaos, Calm & The Call of God
Sermon Preached by Reverend Tracey Gracey on Sunday, 22 June, 2025
1 Kings 19:1-4, 8-15 & Luke: 8.26-39
One of my favourite stories in the Old Testament is Elijah’s mountaintop encounter with God, for it reminds me that God isn’t always found in the loud, dramatic moments of life — often, God is present in the quiet, hidden places we tend to overlook.
In contrast, today’s Gospel reading unsettles me. Here we meet an individual who has been cast out, who is isolated, cut off from community, unseen, uncared for and who is emotionally torn apart.
Two very different stories. Both begin in chaos. Both end in calm.
Both reveal what it means to live in a world shaped by fear and power.
Both invite us to encounter a God who refuses to leave us trapped and fearful.
Elijah’s encounter on Mount Horeb comes immediately after a national crisis, where Elijah, on another mountain—Mount Carmel—challenges 450 prophets of Baal to a dramatic showdown: by seeing ‘whose god can send down fire from heaven to consume a sacrifice?’
The prophets of Baal cried out and acted wildly all day, trying to evoke their god— but there was no answer.
Then Elijah stepped forward, drenched his altar with water to raise the stakes, and called on Yahweh. Fire fell from heaven, consuming everything, leaving no doubt about who the true God was.
This was not just a religious victory — it was a political challenge. King Ahab had married Queen Jezebel to secure a political alliance with her people, the Phoenicians.
Jezebel was a devoted Baal worshipper, and through her influence, Baal worship was promoted alongside the worship of Yahweh in Israel.
Elijah’s dramatic victory exposed the corruption and falsehood at the heart of their leadership and publicly humiliated them before the people.
Which is why Jezebel retaliated and refused to accept defeat quietly. She vowed to kill Elijah—to reassert her power and send a clear message that she was still in control.
Elijah now flees—not just because Jezebel threatened his life, but because he felt utterly defeated. He had hoped to win a big victory for God, but instead, he felt he had failed and let everyone down—himself, his people, and even God.
Elijah ended up at Mount Horeb, also known as Mount Sinai—the same place where Moses had a fiery, powerful encounter with God while receiving the Ten Commandments.
Elijah came looking for something similar: a bold sign, a mighty display to reassure him. But what he found was silence—a quiet, still presence.
That silence wasn’t empty. It was God’s way of showing Elijah— and reminding us—that God’s work isn’t always about spectacular miracles or grand gestures.
Elijah wasn’t meant to carry the burden alone. Even in the silence, God was there. Through simple questions— “What are you doing here, Elijah?” and “Go back on your journey”—this was how God prompted Elijah to return, to trust, and to rely on God’s strength instead of his own.
I wonder if we, like Elijah, sometimes find ourselves worn out and overwhelmed—feeling the weight of the world on our shoulders, convinced that if we don’t fix everything, it will all fall apart.
We live in a world filled with conflict and drama, and often long for God to appear with spectacular miracles and powerful signs to set things right.
But more often, God speaks into the quiet moments—the silence—upholding and reminding us that we are not alone, and that the work before us is not ours to carry by ourselves.
On the surface, today’s Gospel reading is a healing story—but underneath, it’s deeply political too.
The demon-possessed man is described as living among tombs, naked, wild, broken. And when Jesus asks his name, he replies, “Legion”—a term deliberately echoing the Roman legions that occupied the land.
His torment isn’t just personal; it represents the collective oppression of his people under Roman rule, where people are experiencing violence and living in fear.
The pigs are also symbolic. They rush into the water and drown— which represents the Roman soldiers charging into battle.
And this is why the townspeople remain afraid. They’re trapped too—caught up in the grip of Roman rule, living in a world shaped by fear and control. They can’t envision what another way of life might look like.
The man, however, is now free—not just of personal torment, but of political and spiritual oppression.
He is no longer possessed by the forces tearing him apart.
He is clothed, in his right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus—a disciple.
Jesus doesn’t just set him free; he gives him a new beginning. And that’s what Jesus does for us too—meets us in our mess, brings life where there has been loss, and hope where there has been fear.
Like the people of that Gerasene town, we sometimes choose what’s comfortable, even if it’s broken, because change feels too risky.
We carry our own “legions”—whether that’s anxiety, grief, fear of losing control, or ignoring systems of injustice.
But Jesus can bring healing and new life if we are willing to rely on God’s strength and courage to face what’s next.
Two stories. Both start in chaos. Both end in calm. Both show us that God isn’t just found in mighty acts, but silence. Not just in personal healing, but in the quiet work of ordinary people making everyday life a little better and fairer.
The invitation is the same for us as it was for Elijah—and the man in the tombs: return to life, not in your strength, but with God upholding you—and speaking into the silence, stirring and sending you back into your context to minister by challenging the status quo and emulating God’s love.
Amen