And cried with a loud voice, and said, What have I to do with you, Jesus, you Son of the most high God? I adjure you by God, that you torment me not.

The coming of Jesus into a place puts all into commotion.

The gospel is a great disturber of sinful peace.

Like the sun among wild beasts, owls, and bats, it creates a stir. In this case, a legion of devils began to move.

I. THE DEVIL CRIES OUT AGAINST THE INTRUSION OF CHRIST. “What have I to do with you?”

1. Christ’s nature is so contrary to that of the devil that war is inevitable as soon as Jesus comes upon the scene.

2. There are no designs of grace for Satan, and, therefore, as he has nothing to hope for from Jesus, he dreads his coming.

3. He wishes to be let alone; for thoughtlessness, stagnation, and despair suit his plans.

4. He knows his powerlessness against the Son of the Most High God, and has no wish to try a fall with him.

5. He dreads his doom: for Jesus will not hesitate to torment him by the sight of good done, and evil overcome.

II. MEN UNDER THE DEVIL’S INFLUENCE CRY OUT AGAINST THE INCOMING OF CHRIST BY THE GOSPEL.

1. Conscience is feared by them: they do not wish to have it disturbed, instructed, and placed in power.

2. Change is dreaded by them; for they love sin, and its gains, and pleasures, and know that Jesus wars with these things.

3. They claim a right to be let alone: this is their idea of religious liberty. They would not be questioned either by God or man.

4. They argue that the gospel cannot bless them.

   • They expect nothing from it, for they do not know its rich blessings, or the power of sovereign, almighty grace.
   • They think themselves too poor, too ignorant, too busy, too sinful, too weak, too involved, and perhaps too aged, to receive any good from the gospel.

5. They view Jesus as a tormentor, who will rob them of pleasure, sting their consciences, and drive them to obnoxious duties.

   • Therefore they cry out, “What have we to do with you?”

III. SOBER MEN CAN ANSWER THESE OUTCRIES.

They endeavor to answer the question,—“What have I to do with you?” They remember a fact, and make an inquiry.

1. I have to do with him inevitably.

   • He has come to save, and I am responsible for accepting or refusing his grace.
   • I am his creature, as he is the Son of God, and he has power over me, and a right to my obedience.
   • I am under his rule, and he will judge me at the last day.

2. Has he to do with me graciously?

   • He has to do with me by the gospel which he has sent me.
   • He has abundantly much to do with me if he has wrought in me repentance, faith, prayer, etc.
   • He has everything to do with me if he has bestowed on me pardon, peace, sanctification, etc.

IV. MEN SAVED FROM SATAN RAISE AN OPPOSITE CRY.

According to the instance before us in the narrative—

1. They beg to sit at Jesus’ feet, clothed, and in their right mind.

2. They ask to be with him always, and never to cease from personal attendance upon him.

3. They go at his bidding, and publish abroad what great things Jesus has done for them.

4. Henceforth they have nothing to do but to live for Jesus, and for him alone.

   • Come, you despisers, and see yourselves as in a looking-glass!
   • Look until you see yourselves transformed.

Cases In Point

Conversion is feared as a great danger by natural men, lest the promises put them on the pain and labor of godliness; for men do flee nothing but that which they apprehend as evil, dangerous, and so the true object of fear. Now, when Felix and Agrippa were both upon the wheel of the great Potter, I cannot say that conversion formally was begun, yet materially it was. The one trembled, and so was afraid and fled, and did put Paul away until another time. He saw the danger of grace (Acts 24:25, 26), and fled from it. The other said that he was half a Christian (but it was the poorer half), and “he arose, and went aside.” (Acts 26:28, 30, 31.) “Their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.” (Matthew 13:15.) In which words it is evident that conversion is feared as an evil.

A wretch once jested that he was once in danger to be caught, when a Puritan preacher, as he said, “was preaching with divine power, and evidence of the Spirit of God.”—Samuel Rutherford.

It is said that Voltaire, being pressed in his last moments to acknowledge the Divinity of Christ, turned away, and said feebly, “For the love of God don’t mention that Man—allow me to die in peace!”

A number of young men were sitting together in a country store one evening, telling what they did not believe, and what they were not afraid to do. Finally, the leader in the group remarked that, so far as he was concerned, he would be willing at any time to sign away all his interest in Christ for a five-dollar bill. “What did I understand you to say?” asked an old farmer, who happened to be in the store, and who had overheard the remark. “I said that for five dollars I would sign away all my interest in Christ, and so I will.” The old farmer, who had learned to know the human heart pretty well, drew out his leathern wallet, took therefrom a five-dollar bill, and put it in the storekeeper’s hand. Then calling for ink and paper, he said: “My young friend, if you will just step to the desk now, and write as I direct, the money is yours.” The young man took the pen, and began: “In the presence of these witnesses, I, A——— B———, for the sum of five dollars received, do now, once for all, and forever, sign away all my interest”—then he dropped the pen, and with a forced smile, said: “I take it back, I was only fooling.” That young man did not dare to sign that paper. Why? He had an accusing conscience. He knew that there was a God. He believed in religion. He meant to be a Christian some time. And so do you, reader. Notwithstanding your apparent indifference, your trifling conduct, your boasting speech, you would not today for ten thousand dollars sign away, if such a thing were possible, your interest in Jesus Christ. You do not desire or expect to lose heaven.—The Congregationalist (American).