Limits. Most of us don’t care for them unless we impose them. We push against them or view them as challenges to overcome. Or we take them under advisement, like the speed limit, and hope we don’t get caught transgressing them.

Recently, I’ve been butting up against limits, which is both uncomfortable and revelatory. Two Sundays ago, the appointed Gospel text was Jesus crossing the Sea of Galilee to free a man we only know by description, not name: the Gerasene Demoniac who lived in the tombs.

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