Why do I let myself fall into the belief that everyone else has it figured out? Everyone else is livin’ the dream and somehow I missed the boat, so I’m stuck at harbor until the next cruise comes around.

What if, all this time, the harbor is the place I’m meant to be?

— Journal entry from February 4, 2020

In August of 2016, I graduated from the University of Pittsburgh and moved back to my small, rural hometown on the other side of the state. The few positions I’d applied to in the city had fallen through, so I was back under my parents’ roof until I could get things figured out.

A few weeks later, I was talking with a friend I’d reconnected with about what my future plans were. (For the record there were no future plans.) At some point during that conversation, I made a statement that went something like this:

“I refuse to be here longer than a year.”

By here, I meant my hometown. It wasn’t that I didn’t like my family — I loved them and was happy to be living with them again for what I thought would be a brief amount of time. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the area — I’ve always thought Chester County was beautiful, and I appreciated it even more after living in an urban setting for two years. And while I was certainly missing my college friends, I had the church community I’d grown up in and a handful of close friends around who helped make the transition a little more bearable.

But as grateful as I was for this unexpected time at home, I didn’t want to stay. A year felt like more than enough time to catch up with the people I’d missed while I was away, without the risk of starting to put down roots. I had caught the city bug during my time at school and falling asleep to cricketsong in an area that had only one coffee shop within walking distance was no longer the type of life I envisioned for myself. I longed for the lights, the diversity, the excitement, even the chaos I’d come to love about the city, and I was determined to return to them before the year was up.

Five years later, I’m writing this blog while sitting in an apartment less than fifteen minutes from my parents’ house in Chester County, Pennsylvania. God sure does have a sense of humor.

I could tell you more about my own story, and maybe I will someday. For now, though, I’m going to share someone else’s story, which is a) far more interesting than mine, and b) included in Scripture, which means God thought it was important enough for the world to hear.

Mark 5:1–20 and Luke 8:26–39 both record the story of Jesus being confronted by a man with an “unclean spirit.” In other words, this man was suffering from demonic possession. And the text leads us to believe that it was not one or two demons who had made his body their home, but a legion. During that time, a “legion” referred to a division of the Roman army that contained up to six thousand soldiers.

Six. Thousand.

Instead of summarizing the story here, I encourage you to take the time to read it for yourself. Even if you’ve heard it before, there is always something new to learn — or something old to re-learn — from the stories the Author of the Universe chose to record for us.

And there is so, so much to take away from this particular story. Most evident is the jaw-dropping power of Jesus over the spiritual forces of darkness. One word from His mouth reduces six thousand demons to a herd of terrified pigs. All the times I’d read this story before, that was the truth I had gleaned from it.

But something new struck me as I read through it a couple of years ago. At that time I was struggling hardcore with the fact that my life looked nothing like I’d dreamed it would the summer before I moved home. I would log into Instagram and see posts from my friends who had either remained in Pittsburgh or moved to other cities after graduation, making my quiet, cow-speckled corner of the world feel small and insignificant in comparison.

And then I read these verses.

“As [Jesus] was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him that he might be with him. And [Jesus] did not permit him but said to him, ‘Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.’ And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.”

Jesus told the demon-possessed man to go home.

He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to go with Jesus and His disciples, to have an adventure in far off lands. He wanted to be close by the side of the one who had changed his life and saved him from his demons. I’m sure he imagined himself telling the story to everyone he and his new best friend encountered, a walking testimony of the miraculous power of God.

But Jesus told him to go home, and somehow that was good. Wanderlust was calling, but God was calling him to something greater.

And it was to stay. To stay with the people who had known him his whole life, who had feared him and chained him and watched him wrestle with his demons, and tell them the story of how he’d been rescued from the darkness.

Jesus asked him to stay, and he obeyed, and God was glorified.

Where might He be asking you to stay? Feel free to comment below.

ABOUT OUR BLOGGER

Kati Lynn Davis grew up in Chester County and returned to the area after a brief stay on the other side of Pennsylvania to earn her Bachelor’s Degree in English Writing from the University of Pittsburgh.

She currently works as a Library Specialist and earns a living mostly by reading children’s books.

She’s pretty sure she’s an Enneagram 4 but is constantly having an identity crisis over it, so thankfully she’s learning to root her sense of self in Jesus. A few of Kati's favorite subjects to write about are social media, mental health, and films, and she especially loves to explore these topics through the lens of faith.