12/30/24

The sun dips toward the horizon over the Sea of Galilee, casting long shadows across waters that will soon become choppy with evening winds. Jesus has spent the day teaching in parables about how God’s kingdom grows and spreads. The crowds still press around Him, hungry for more, success evident in every face turned toward the master teacher. It’s exactly the kind of moment most ministry leaders would want to extend, to build upon, to leverage for greater impact.

Yet Jesus looks across the darkening water and speaks words that must have puzzled His disciples: “Let us go over to the other side.”

Put yourself in that moment. You’ve just experienced an extraordinary day of ministry. The teaching has resonated deeply, lives are being changed, and momentum is building. Every strategic consideration would suggest staying right where you are, continuing what’s clearly working. Why would Jesus choose this moment to leave? And why head toward Gentile territory as evening approaches, when storms are most likely?

The territory ahead holds more than just physical challenges. The Decapolis represents everything Jesus’ Jewish disciples would naturally avoid. This is a region where people raise pigs, worship foreign gods, and live unclean lives by Jewish standards. Even the air feels different there, heavy with spiritual oppression that manifests in demon-possessed men living among tombs. No good Jewish religious leader would intentionally take his followers into such territory.

Yet Jesus’ words leave no room for debate. He’s not suggesting a possibility or opening a discussion about ministry strategy. He’s leading His disciples into an encounter that will challenge everything they assume about how God’s kingdom advances.

Watch how the disciples respond. These men have left everything to follow Jesus, yet they still carry deep-seated assumptions about where ministry should happen and who deserves to receive it. Their hesitation likely goes beyond mere physical concerns about crossing the sea at night. They’re being asked to enter territory that challenges their cultural identity, their religious training, and their understanding of God’s purposes.

Something profound is unfolding here. Jesus has just finished teaching parables about how the kingdom grows in unexpected places, how the smallest seeds produce the largest results, how good soil might be found in surprising locations. Now He moves from principles to practice, from teaching to demonstration. But rather than explicitly explaining what He’s about to show them, He simply says, “Let’s cross over.”

The timing cannot be accidental. Why would Jesus choose this specific moment to push into Gentile territory? What does He see that His disciples need to learn? And how might this journey prepare them for something far bigger than they yet understand?

As they push back from shore, the disciples take their places in the boat. Some likely cast longing looks at the eager crowds being left behind. Others eye the darkening sky with concern. None of them realize they’re about to witness a master class in kingdom expansion that will challenge every assumption they hold about how God’s kingdom advances across cultural boundaries.

Evening winds ruffle the surface of the lake, hinting at the storm to come. But the real turbulence will be internal, as Jesus begins reshaping His disciples’ understanding of kingdom advance. Through the events about to unfold, He will demonstrate principles they’ll need to reproduce as they eventually take the gospel from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.

What storms of assumption need to be calmed in our own hearts before we can participate in such kingdom expansion? What territory feels off-limits in our ministry vision? Where might Jesus be inviting us to cross boundaries we’ve long assumed should remain uncrossed?

The boat cuts through increasingly choppy water. The familiar shore recedes behind them. And ahead lies an encounter that will demonstrate just how far God’s kingdom can advance when we’re willing to cross to the other side…

Through the Storm: The Cost of Kingdom Crossing

The storm hits with sudden fury. These experienced fishermen have crossed this lake countless times, but something about this squall feels different. Waves crash over the gunwales, threatening to swamp the boat. The wind howls with such force that even shouted words are torn away before they can reach their target.

And where is Jesus during this chaos? The text tells us something remarkable: “Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion.”

The contrast could hardly be more striking. As His disciples battle wind and waves, fighting for survival with every ounce of their considerable maritime skill, Jesus sleeps. This detail arrests our attention. What does it reveal about Jesus’ perspective on this crossing? What might He understand about kingdom advance that His disciples have yet to grasp?

Their response exposes something deeper than mere concern about the weather: “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

Hear the accusation in their words. It’s not just fear speaking, but frustration. They’ve left a successful ministry setting to cross into hostile territory at Jesus’ instruction, and now it seems He’s abandoned them to face the consequences alone. The storm has stripped away their spiritual veneer, revealing how quickly trust can evaporate in the face of real crisis.

Jesus’ response comes in two parts. First, He addresses the storm: “Quiet! Be still!” The wind dies away; the waves settle into glassy calm. But then He turns to His disciples with a probing question: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

This moment becomes about more than a weather event. Jesus has led them into this crossing knowing the storm would come. Their journey toward Gentile territory was never going to be smooth sailing. So what was He watching for in their response? What kind of faith was He trying to develop in them?

The disciples’ reaction suggests they’ve encountered something beyond their categories: “Who is this? Even the wind and waves obey him!” They’ve witnessed Jesus’ authority over human illness and demonic spirits. But authority over natural forces? This reveals a scope of kingdom power they hadn’t imagined.

Consider the sequence: Jesus initiates a crossing into hostile territory, allows a crisis to develop, demonstrates authority that transcends natural boundaries, and uses the whole experience to expose His disciples’ limits of faith. Is this merely about surviving a storm? Or is He preparing them for something bigger?

What storms arise when we attempt to cross cultural boundaries for the kingdom? What fears surface when Jesus leads us beyond familiar territory? And how might these very challenges be part of His preparation process?

The disciples climb back to their positions, water dripping from their clothes, minds reeling from what they’ve witnessed. They’re about to discover that the storm was just the beginning. The territory ahead holds challenges that will require even greater faith than what they’ve just exercised.

The boat glides now through eerily calm waters toward the Gentile shore. But in the growing darkness, none of them yet realizes they’re heading straight toward an encounter that will demonstrate just how far Jesus’ authority extends. A man possessed by a legion of demons waits in the shadows of the tombs. And through him, Jesus will reveal the next phase of how His kingdom advances across every barrier…

The choice to cross cultural boundaries for the kingdom always costs something. What storms of opposition or fear keep us from attempting such crossings? What would it look like to trust Jesus’ authority as much in the storm as in the calm? And what might He want to teach us through the very challenges we’re most tempted to avoid?

First Contact: Finding Kingdom Access in Unlikely Places

The boat’s keel scrapes against foreign sand. Dawn’s first light reveals a landscape as spiritually oppressive as it is physically stark. Tombs dot the hillside like open sores on the earth. The air itself feels heavy with darkness. And then they hear it – a sound that makes the storm they’ve just survived seem tame by comparison.

A man’s tortured scream echoes off the rocks.

Mark’s description paints a picture of humanity at its most broken: a man living among the tombs, so violent no one could bind him, crying out day and night, cutting himself with stones. By every cultural and religious measure, this is the last person anyone would choose as a kingdom contact point in new territory.

Yet watch what happens. 

The moment Jesus steps from the boat, this man runs toward Him. More remarkably, he falls at Jesus’ feet. The disciples, still dripping from their battle with the storm, must have tensed for violence. But Jesus stands calm, repeating the same posture of authority they’d just witnessed on the lake.

The demons speak first: “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” 

There’s something profound in this recognition. In territory where Yahweh isn’t acknowledged, where Jewish religious authority means nothing, where all the normal channels of ministry don’t exist – the demons immediately recognize Jesus’ authority. What might this suggest about the basis for kingdom expansion into new cultural spaces?

Jesus’ first question is significant: “What is your name?”

The response chills the air: “My name is Legion, for we are many.”

The name carries weight beyond its immediate meaning. A Roman legion numbered around 6,000 soldiers. Here in the Decapolis, under Rome’s shadow, this name speaks of overwhelming opposition. Yet Jesus stands unmoved, as confident before spiritual empire as He was before natural chaos.

What happens next reveals layers of kingdom strategy. The demons beg not to be sent out of the area, then ask to enter a nearby herd of pigs. Jesus permits this, leading to a dramatic demonstration of His authority as two thousand pigs rush down the steep bank into the lake.

Consider this sequence through kingdom eyes. In a single encounter, Jesus:

– Demonstrates power that transcends cultural boundaries

– Engages personally with the most broken person in the region

– Provides visible evidence of transformation that the whole community will discuss

– Creates a story that will spread naturally through local networks

The transformation is immediate and complete. The man who couldn’t be bound by chains now sits quietly, clothed and in his right mind. The contrast stops the local people in their tracks. They come running to see, and their response reveals another layer of kingdom reality – not everyone welcomes such dramatic disruption of their status quo.

But it’s what happens next that should truly capture our attention. When Jesus prepares to leave, the transformed man begs to go with Him. Here’s someone eager to leave everything and follow Jesus – exactly what we might consider ideal. Yet Jesus gives him different instructions:

“Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.”

Pause here. What just happened? Jesus has:

– Entered hostile territory

– Engaged the most unlikely person

– Transformed him completely

– And sent him back to his natural relationships as a kingdom witness

The story ends with a detail we might easily miss: “So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed.”

This man becomes the first missionary to his own people, sharing a simple testimony of transformation. No theological training. No religious credentials. Just a powerful story of personal encounter with Jesus, shared within his existing cultural networks.

When Jesus returns to this region later, He finds the soil has been prepared through this man’s testimony. Could this be why Mark includes such detail about this encounter? What might it reveal about how kingdom influence spreads across cultural boundaries? What assumptions about qualified ministry might need to be challenged by this story?

The disciples have just witnessed a master class in kingdom expansion. Through this unlikely person, Jesus has established a beachhead for the gospel in hostile territory. The very man everyone avoided has become the key to reaching an entire region.

What might this suggest about finding kingdom access points in our own context? Who have we written off as too broken, too difficult, or too far gone? What possibilities for kingdom expansion might we be missing by looking for more qualified or respectable contacts?

The sun climbs higher over the Decapolis. The transformed man’s testimony begins spreading through his community. 

And back in the boat, the disciples head toward their next lesson in how the kingdom advances across every boundary and barrier.

From One City to Regions: The Echo of Indigenous Leadership

Stand again on that Decapolis shore. 

The transformed demoniac begs to leave with Jesus, to join the band of disciples. It would seem the natural next step – here’s someone dramatically transformed, eager to follow. Yet Jesus gives him different instructions: “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you.”

This moment becomes more than just a single conversion story. 

Jesus is establishing a pattern that will echo through the New Testament and shape how movements spread across regions. The transformed demoniac becomes the first indigenous missionary to the Decapolis – ten cities that will hear the gospel through someone who knows their culture, speaks their language, and understands their networks.

Mark gives us a glimpse of the impact: “And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.” When Jesus returns to this region later, He finds the soil has been prepared through this local leader’s testimony. 

The man’s natural understanding of his culture and existing relationships became the pathway for regional impact.

Now fast forward several decades. Paul stands in Ephesus, implementing this same pattern at an even larger scale. For two years, he teaches daily in the Hall of Tyrannus. But look closer at what’s really happening. 

Paul isn’t just teaching; he’s developing a network of indigenous leaders who will carry the gospel throughout Asia Minor.

Watch how the pattern Jesus established with one transformed man in the Decapolis expands into a web of indigenous leadership across an entire region. In Ephesus, Paul invests deeply in people like Timothy, a young disciple who emerges as a key leader strengthening churches throughout Asia Minor. Like the demoniac who knew his region intimately, Timothy’s mixed Greek-Jewish heritage gives him natural cultural access that Paul alone could never achieve.

Consider Aquila and Priscilla, tentmakers like Paul who become strategic multipliers in Ephesus. When they encounter Apollos, a gifted but incompletely trained preacher, they don’t send him away for formal education. Instead, like Jesus with the demoniac, they equip him right where he is, helping him understand the full gospel message. 

Apollos then carries this message throughout the region, reaching places and people through his natural gifting and cultural connection.

Acts 19:10 gives us a stunning result: “This continued for two years, so that all the residents of Asia heard the word of the Lord.” How could everyone in Asia hear through Paul teaching in one location? The answer emerges when we examine the network of indigenous leaders he developed. 

Each one, like the demoniac in their own way, became a cultural bridge carrying the gospel through natural relationships and understanding.

When we reach Revelation 2-3, we find churches established in seven cities of Asia Minor: Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea. These weren’t planted directly by Paul. 

They grew through the ministry of leaders like Timothy, who strengthened existing works, Aquila and Priscilla, who equipped others, and Apollos, who preached powerfully in his cultural context. Even Erastus, mentioned briefly as accompanying Paul and Timothy, plays his part in this web of indigenous influence.

The parallel with Jesus’ approach deepens:

• Just as the demoniac reached ten cities through his testimony and cultural connection
• Paul’s network of leaders established churches across their regions through their natural relationships
• In both cases, indigenous leadership became the key to movement multiplication

We see this pattern mature in Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian elders (Acts 20). He’s confident about leaving the region because he’s developed not just individual leaders but an interconnected network of cultural insiders who can carry the mission forward. Like the demoniac in his sphere, these leaders will reach places and people Paul never could directly.

This reveals something profound about how movements multiply. Both Jesus and Paul:

• Engaged strategic centers
• Developed indigenous leaders
• Released them in their natural spheres
• Trusted local witness over external control
• Saw regional saturation through cultural insiders

The implications challenge our modern ministry assumptions. 

Are we developing networks of indigenous leaders who can naturally reach their regions? Or are we creating dependency on outside workers? 

Are we identifying and equipping people like Aquila and Priscilla who can train others? 

Are we releasing gifted communicators like Apollos to adapt the message to their cultural context?

That first indigenous missionary to the Decapolis never received formal training. He simply shared his story of transformation within his natural cultural space. When Paul developed leaders in Ephesus, he followed and expanded this pattern – equipping local people like Timothy, empowering couples like Aquila and Priscilla, and releasing gifted communicators like Apollos to reach their own regions through existing relationships and cultural understanding.

The echo continues. Modern movements still multiply fastest when we follow this pattern:

• Find and develop indigenous leaders in strategic centers
• Equip them to train others in their context
• Release them to share their firsthand experience to their culture
• Trust them to reach their natural networks
• Expect regional impact through webs of local influence

The transformed demoniac and the indigenous leaders of Asia Minor stand as bookends of a single principle: The kingdom spreads most effectively through networks of cultural insiders reaching their own regions. The only question is whether we’ll trust this pattern enough to implement it in our context. 

What would it look like to identify the Timothys, the Aquilas and Priscillas, the Apolloses in our ministry fields? How might releasing their natural gifting and cultural understanding lead to regional movements we could never create through outside effort alone? 

The pattern is clear. The potential for multiplication awaits. 

Will we have the courage to develop and release indigenous leaders as Jesus and Paul did?