Sermon from May 13, 2007
I have a letter my grandmother, Mollie Freeman, wrote 45 years ago. She did not write it to me, but the letter came back into my possession. I treasure it, because I have nothing else that she wrote. I treasure it also, because she wrote to a relative some of what she thought about my early experiences in the ministry.

A man named Philemon received a letter from the Apostle Paul. Compared to Paul's other letters that we have, the one to Philemon seems like a note. It is longer than my grandmother's letter, but not by much. People often throw away letters that short. Philemon kept his, and somehow it left his private correspondence and became the property of the universal Church for as long as the world shall last.

Philemon owned slaves. At least, we know he owned one slave, named Onesimus. We know nothing directly of what it was like to be a slave in Philemon's house. Onesimus ran away from his master's house. He fled to Rome. There he could hide in the last European city to reach a million in population until London in the 19th century.

We don't know what happened, but in Rome Onesimus met Paul, who was a prisoner in the Roman penal system. Paul was more or less under house arrest, so people could visit him. Paul had been in Philemon's house. Maybe Onesimus knew of him there and later sought him out in Rome. Maybe their meeting was unexpected.

They continued to meet. Onesimus became a follower of Christ, and a bond formed between the Apostle and the slave. At some time in their growing relationship the subject came up of Onesimus' going back to Philemon's house. Our natural question would be, "Why would either man think Onesimus should return to slavery?" The letter offers little or no help in understanding why. It tells us only that Onesimus agreed to return.

That could have been risky. Masters could put runaway slaves to death with impunity or treat them cruelly when they caught them. Onesimus and Paul knew the dangers. Onesimus was willing to take the risk, but only after Paul agreed to write to Philemon a letter that might prevent the more brutal consequences of running away.

The survival of this letter bears the only witness we have that it accomplished what Paul hoped it would accomplish. Philemon would have read Paul's note at one sitting. Let's do the same. Be prepared to be amazed. Please turn to Philemon 1-7.

Catching Up
Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother, To Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker (it sounds like they had done ministry together), to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow worker (more ministry together) and to the church that meets in your home (Philemon did not sit on the sidelines): Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

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. Paul often greeted individuals and churches like this. He continues with more appreciation for Philemon.

I pray 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. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints. That reflected their ministry together and Philemon's generosity in hosting the church in his house. Calling him brother introduced something quite personal and affectionate into the letter.

Reading verses 8-9a feels like stepping unexpectedly on a rock during your walk on the beach. 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. Paul was affectionate, but he was never indulgent. In him affection and authority went together; they did not cancel each other out. Philemon had to wonder, "What would he possibly order me to do?"

The rest of verse nine and verse 10 told him. I then, as Paul – an old man and now also a prisoner of Christ Jesus – I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son (became a Christian) while I was in chains.

"Onesimus, my runaway slave! How did he end up wiht Paul? How did he become a Christian?" The letter continues: Formerly he was useless to you (runaways were useless), but now he has become useful both to you and to me.

Curiouser and curiouser! But verse twelve topped everything. I am sending him – who is my very heart –  back to you. Paul did not wait for a favorable reply from Philemon before sending Onesimus back. He took the initiative and the responsibility for his return, and he took responsibility for persuading Philemon to treat him well.

Don't miss what Paul thought of Onesimus. I am sending him, who is my very heart. As I said, Paul could be affectionate, but to talk that way about a slave must have been a new thing in a world where slavery was as natural as night, and where slaves were considered property, sub-human, and disposable as toilet paper. I wonder if Philemon thought Paul had gone off the rails.

But he didn't reason like someone who had gone off the rails. He offered Philemon three reasons why he was sending him back. I can only call the first reason Paul's deference to Philemon. Verses 13-14: 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.

Paul unquestionably and in good faith defered to Philemon. After all, Onesimus actually traveled all those miles back to Philemon's house. And yet Paul had the cheek to suggest that if Philemon consented, he could send Onesimus back to Rome to help Paul. That would of course mean that Onesimus would no longer be Philemon's slave. Philemon had one very canny apostle on his hands.

But that was nothing compared with Paul's second reason for sending the runaway slave back to Philemon. I call this second reason the liberating power of the gospel. Verses 15-16a: Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good – no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother.

"Philemon, my dear brother, when are you going to look behind the everyday for the hand of God in human affairs? You think Onesimus ran away, because he didn't want to be your slave. No doubt, he did that, but deeper than a slave's hatred for slavery lives God's love for the slave. Can't you see, Philemon? God slipped His hand into the glove of human affairs and seized Onesimus in order to give him back to you, not as a slave but as a brother in Christ."

"Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother; and in His name all oppression shall cease."

The rest of verse 6 gives Paul's third reason for sending Onesimus back to Philemon. I call this reason Paul's Christian humanism. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord. Once Paul had established Onesimus as Philemon's Christian brother, Philemon was prepared to entertain the radical idea that a slave was a man. "God looks at him as a man in Christ. Now you, Philemon, must look at him as a man like yourself. You may not send him back to Rome to help me, but if you keep him there, you can never again see him with the same eyes."

Paul's Request and Offer
Having tampered with the way Philemon looked at the world, Paul made his very simple, direct request in verse 17: So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.

Then, Paul made a very generous offer with one hand and seemed to take it away with the other. Verses 18-19: If he has done you wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand. I will pay it back – not to mention that you owe me your very self.

If Philemon could give as well as he could take, I have to believe that the two men had brilliant conversations, when they were together. I choose to believe that the jibe about owing me your very self reflected a deep mutual understanding and affection that allowed both men to take certain liberties with each other.

On a more serious note verses 20-21 reinforce the simple request that Philemon welcome Onesimus as he would have welcomed Paul. I do wish, brother, that I may have 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.

Finally, verse 22: And one thing more: Prepare a guest room for me, because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers. Even if I am right about the affection and liberty that existed between Philemon and Paul, Philemon knew that if Paul actually got out of jail and returned to Philemon's house for a visit, there would be lively conversation about Onesimus, especially if Philemon did not honor Paul's wishes.

The letter closes as do many of Paul's letter with mention of names familiar to both men and with a Christian blessing. 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. Demas, you may remember, forsook Paul later, as we read in 2 Timothy.

Paul and His Modern Accusers
Plenty of modern critics have found fault with Paul for sending a slave back to his slave owner. Others have found fault with him for not protesting slavery and calling for its abolition. That puts too much confidence in the value of protests, even in our nation. In the days of the Caesars, the ruling powers did not call them protests; they called them sedition and dealt with the perpetrators as traitors. Roman justice was swift.

Paul was not such a fool as his critics. He never wrote extensively on slavery, but what he wrote was revolutionary. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus – Galatians 3:28. We should not underestimate the world-changing power of his statement to Philemon: He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord. He did what he could. It is not a bad strategy in the face of social custom that had been institutionalized for thousands of years.

The Pastoral Center of Gravity
Thirty-five years ago this month, as I recall, Governor Nelson Rockefeller vetoed the New York State legislature's vote to repeal New York's liberal abortion law. At the time I was teaching a class on Christianity and human engineering. I wrote a special lesson on Christians and abortion. I said to my class that day, "My position as a pastor is to do all I can to preserve the life of the unborn child."

I read to them Gov. Rockefeller's justification for vetoing the repeal. He said, "I do not believe it is right for one group to impose its vision of morality on an entire society." I pointed out the incoherence of his statement by saying, "I wonder just what he thinks the present law is, if it is not one group's vision of morality."

Shortly after that, a couple came to me for advice. I'll call them Ted and Marilyn. Marital strife was not the issue. Ted and Marilyn had a child, and Marilyn was expecting her second. But complications had arisen. She had experienced considerable bleeding, and she was under lifelong medication for epilepsy.

They did not have much money, so they consulted an obstetrician at a public clinic. He advised her to have an abortion. He said the bleeding indicated possible birth defects in the child, and the epilepsy endangered her. They never told me the doctor's name, and if I have misrepresented his medical opinion, it is because Ted and Marilyn understood him to say what I have shared with you.

The doctor made a date for the abortion to be done. But Marilyn felt ill-at-ease about it. So, she called me and wanted to talk it over. Ted obviously felt in the middle but generally favored going ahead with the abortion.

Marilyn told me about their visit to the clinic and asked me what I thought she should do. I told her that she ought to do two things. First, she should cancel her appointment at the clinic. Second, would she let me arrange for her to get a second medical opinion? A Lebanese Christian was attending our church at the time. He also happened to be head of the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at Upstate Medical University in Syracuse. He shared our convictions about abortion, and of course he was a skilled physician.

The story of Ted and Marilyn ended happily. She carried her baby to term with no complications caused by her epilepsy, and she gave birth to a healthy baby. When I got the news, I called the head of obstetrics, and we rejoiced together. It was a small victory, but victory nonetheless.

Paul's short letter to Philemon rode in someone's pouch from Rome to Asia Minor. Philemon might have discarded it, even if he received it well. But he kept it, and it passed into the received scripture of the Church and still speaks salvation to the world.

The story of Philemon, Paul and Onesimus encourages us to say what we can and do what we can in the face of seemingly intractable human evil. The list of evils in our world overwhelms even the institutions of our nation.

But if a billion Christians each won a few small victories in their lifetimes, they would begin to make a difference in race relations, abortion, ignorance, disease, embryonic stem cell debate, Internet pornography, and the abuse of women and children.

We should not entertain grandiose ideas. Let's be content with small victories. Let's be sure our witness is heard. Let's be sure we speak the truth. Let's aim always to do it in love. How do we know when the sovereign Lord of all the earth may be pleased to insert His hand again into the glove of our history and act to bring down strongholds?