Preached at Hallam and Martell UMCs September 9, 2007
The aging rabbi stood, his loose-fitting Jewish garb flapping lightly in the breeze that blew through his spacious, Roman-style living quarters.
His back was turned toward the dark-haired man who sat at the desk, reed pen in hand, poised, ready to write. Several feet from the silent rabbi stood a Roman soldier, joined to him by the length of a long chain . . . And, on the edge of a rectangular Roman couch opposite the desk, sat the youngest in the quartet of men, a runaway slave named Onesimus, who months ago had used money stolen from his master Philemon to escape to Rome, putting half the civilized world between them in his quest for freedom.
Finally, after a lengthy silence, the rabbi turned, nodded to the man at the desk and, as he saw the scribe dip his pen in the ink, began the letter he’d been pondering.
[Clear throat]
“Paul, an apostle---”
He stopped suddenly, shook his head. “No,” he said, waving his hand at his young scribe.
“Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and,” he continued, smiling at the scribe, “Timothy our brother,
To Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow soldier and to the church that meets in your home.”
The man sitting on the couch stared at the floor, his thoughts going back to that home,
half a world away in Colosse . . . To Philemon, the gray-haired man of means whose slave Onesimus had been . . . a fair man, a good man, even . . . though Onesimus had never had time to notice his master’s good qualities--he had been too filled with hatred, too busy cursing his fate in life, unable to accept being any man’s slave.
And there was Apphia, the lovely lady of the house, and Archippus, Philemon’s son, who had become a sort of pastor of the Colossian church. The young man’s reminiscing had occupied only a few moments, long enough for Paul to dictate his customary greeting: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”
And then, Onesimus watched as Paul, fixing his eyes at a point in the ceiling, began speaking again:
“I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints,” he said, quickly glancing at Onesimus as he emphasized the word “all.”
“I pray,” Paul continued, “that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ.” As he spoke the words to the distant man of Colosse, Paul’s mind went back to his first meeting with Philemon, thousands of miles from where he stood now.
He remembered their encounter in--oh, now, where was it? He couldn’t remember, but it was not in Colosse, Paul knew that; he’d never been to that city, and he remembered that Philemon had been traveling away from home. But the Apostle recalled that Philemon had grasped the Gospel
like a drowning man grips a rope.
And he warmly recalled having heard that Philemon had returned to his home and quickly introduced his wife and son to the living Christ. It was on a later journey when Paul finally met Apphia and Archippus, when Philemon had dragged them away from home just to meet the tentmaker who’d told him of Christ.
With a half-smile prompted by these thoughts, Paul turned his head toward the man at the desk
and resumed dictating: “Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints.”
Then, having prepared the soil for the seed about to be sown, the pacing Apostle gave a confident nod to the listening Onesimus, filled his lungs with air, and raised his voice slightly to say, “Therefore, although in Christ I could be bold and order you to do what you ought to do, yet I appeal to you on the basis of love. I then, as Paul-- an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus--”
Onesimus watched, fascinated, thinking he detected a little melodrama in Paul’s voice, but that wouldn’t come across in the letter...“I appeal to you,” Paul said, “for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains.”
Onesimus noticed that the Apostle moved his foot slightly as he referred to his chains. They really weren’t that noticeable most of the time. Paul seemed to be used to them, having been under house arrest now for some time, as he moved about the simple house with ease, though always with a Roman soldier a few steps away.
Onesimus thought about how HE would have fought those chains a short time ago. He remembered how, the night of his escape, he expected that the moment he made it out of the Lycus Valley, the moment he got a safe distance from Colosse, he’d feel a rush of relief, a sudden peace, the kind that he thought must belong to freemen.
But he’d quickly discovered that he wasn’t really free.
All the way from Colosse to Rome, he waited to be arrested, he searched every face for a sign of recognition, a hint of danger. He learned to walk in the shadows, he learned how to melt into the crowds that thronged the streets of Rome, how to live as a slave to the fear of getting caught.
The young man continued to reminisce as Paul employed a play on words, referring to Onesimus,
whose Greek name meant “useful,” saying, “Formerly he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me.”
It was in Rome that Onesimus met Paul, and soon afterward, met Christ. From that point on, all the energy the young slave had previously spent on resisting, rebelling, and running, had been turned to serving God and helping Paul in his ministry. And, as the new convert learned,and grew in grace, he knew that, to fully repent of his sin, he had to return to his master and seek his forgiveness. And so Paul was helping him do just that, as he dictated to Timothy, “I am sending him--who is my very heart- back to you.”
Of course, Onesimus and Paul both knew what that might mean. They knew that a slave was not a person in that day and age; he was a living tool. They knew that, according to law and custom, a runaway slave could be beaten with a rod or whipped until his back was like raw meat; he could be branded on the forehead with a hot iron, or even crucified.
Every man in that room knew the stakes, the danger. So, with a diplomacy that had been polished with years of practice, in Jerusalem, in Philippi, in Ephesus, Paul continued, “I would have liked to keep him with me so that he could take your place in helping me while I am in chains for the gospel. But I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that any favor you do will be spontaneous and not forced. Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while--”
Paul felt he had to choose his words carefully while referring to Onesimus’s escape--“was that you might have him back for good-- no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord.”
Paul paused for a moment and cleared his throat. After gazing at Onesimus for some time, he raised his eyebrows, and with one hand stroking his beard, asked,“What do you think?”
Onesimus smiled weakly, but his fear was evident in his eyes. Paul smiled back, then whirled, pointed at the parchment over Timothy’s shoulder, and continued, a little louder still: “So,” he said, “if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me.”
And then, as Timothy finished writing Paul’s words in careful Greek, the Apostle shouldered the young scribe aside and, with emphatic strokes, wrote as he spoke aloud, “I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back--not to mention that you owe me your very self.”
He stopped writing as abruptly as he had begun as, with tears in his eyes, he surrendered the pen to Timothy and said, softly, “I do wish, brother, that I may have some . . . benefit--” he said, employing the root of the word from which Onesimus’s name was formed-- “some benefit from you in the Lord; refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I write to you, knowing that you will do even more than I ask.”
Paul turned his gaze toward the ceiling again, and stroked his mustache and beard for a long, silent pause.
Finally, he turned to Timothy and asked what his last words had been. Timothy read them and Paul, apparently satisfied, spoke so rapidly that Timothy had to race to keep up.
“And one thing more: Prepare a guest room for me, because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers. Epaphras, my fellow-prisoner in Christ Jesus, sends you greetings. And so do Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke, my fellow workers. The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.”
Paul looked at Onesimus when he finished. . . Onesimus looked at Paul. And Paul, as if reading the slave’s mind, said, “He will forgive. He will forgive.” Paul embraced his young disciple, and, after the custom of that time and place, kissed him. When he released his embrace, there were tears in his eyes again, and his voice quivered slightly when he said, “Greet Philemon, your brother in Christ, for me.”
(--illustration by Bob Hostetler)
Bondage. It is a word that has many meanings and inferences. You can be in bondage to creditors, to your work, to fear, to someone or to something. In its simplest sense it simply means slavery—being held against your will. But one thing is sure--in a spiritual sense, it can lead to our destruction.
Whatever form bondage takes, it is clear that it is not God's intent for us. Too often, the good that God works in our lives is perverted by our fallen human nature. God made us to be servants, but not slaves.
And so we come to Philemon—a letter written by Paul on behalf of a runaway slave named Onesimus. It is the Magna Carta of Freedom. You see, Onesimus ran away to Rome to disappear—to blend in with the vast crowds of people—no longer a slave to Philemon, but living in constant fear—in bondage to that fear. Philemon, on the other hand, despite the law, and the loss Onesimus had inflicted, was at the same time in bondage to his own anger as well well his honor. At the same time, Paul was imprisoned in Rome—in chains, but freer than either of these men.
Let's take a close look at this passage. It begins and ends with grace, for this is what forgiveness and freedom is. Paul appeals to Philemon on the basis of their partnership, their friendship. But the thing I want to stress most to you is his Christlike attitude: “If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me.”
In the movie, The Last Emperor, there’s a scene in which the young child who has been anointed as the last emperor is asked, “What happens when you do wrong?” “When I do wrong,” the boy emperor replies, “someone else is punished.”
You know what? That’s you.
That’s me.
That’s Paul.
That’s Philemon.
Someone ELSE was punished for our wrongs . . .
That’s grace.
And yet we so often insist that other people pay--and pay dearly-- for the wrongs they’ve done us. We ought instead to follow Paul’s example--which is Jesus’ example--and be willing to model the kind of grace that we ourselves have received.
Paul reminds Philemon that he is a refresher of people's hearts, that Onesimus is his heart, and that he should refresh his heart. Philemon is asked bluntly to forgive—to release Onesimus, to extend grace far beyond culture allows, and to love Onesimus as a brother.
Does he? If he didn't, we probably wouldn't have this letter. The ancient historian Eusebius tells us that there was a bishop at the church in Ephesus named ...Onesimus. If Philemon did receive Onesimus
and forgive him, he not only would have refreshed Paul’s heart, but God’s--and his own, as a matter of fact.
So how can we have this freedom—this grace—this refreshment—in our lives? I want to invite you this morning to experience firsthand the grace of God. Paul began and ended this letter with reference to the grace of God, and I would say to you, if you haven’t experienced the grace of God through Jesus Christ in your life, call out to God in prayer this morning. Simply ask that God give you that grace through Jesus Christ and place your trust in his grace.
Secondly, extend grace to others. Paul urged Philemon to accept Onesimus as “no longer a slave, but . . . as a dear brother.” I want all of us here, as individuals and as a church, to treat each other with grace, and not judgment or condemnation. Let’s extend grace to each other. If someone has hurt you, forgive them. If someone isn’t quite meeting your expectations, forget your expectations, and extend grace.
So, experience God’s grace, extend grace to others, and finally, expect the refreshing and freedom that grace brings. Just as Paul said to Philemon, “I write to you, knowing that you will do even more than I ask” so you and I, when we begin to walk in the grace of God, and grace toward other people, we should keep our eyes wide open for opportunities to extend God's grace, because when we do, our hearts will be refreshed. Our relationships will change, our spiritual, physical, and emotional health will be restored. Be refreshed in the Grace God gives – rejoice in finding the freedom that grace brings.
