The Power of God

The power of God….

Paul, sitting in a Roman prison. Paul, the courageous world traveler, eager to go to Spain, zealous—chained. Did the condensation on the grey Roman prison walls dampen his spirits as well? Did the heavy shackles burden his hopes and dreams too? Unable to visit small house churches, was he lonely? Did his old age sharply slash into his dreams and his joint creaks yield cracks in his

aspirations?

And then, Onesimus. The young man’s steps were directed to this Roman prison through a desperate attempt at freedom from cities apart. Paul and Onesimus met. Friendship blossomed—more than that, Onesimus, Paul’s son, Paul’s heart (Philemon 1:10, 12). Onesimus, useful to Paul in his ministry (Philemon 1:11). Perhaps he was Paul’s legs and hands unchained. The power of God, to take a Jewish Pharisee Saul who had once refused to eat with unclean Gentiles and derogatorily named them “dogs,” now calls a runaway Gentile slave “son.” The power of God in Christ, who broke down the dividing wall of hostility and became our peace (Eph. 2:14).

The power of God…

Paul, sitting in Roman prison, penning a painful letter. To Philemon. Onesimus’ master. Did Paul’s hand pause as he wrote? Quivered over the page? What would it hurt to not send Onesimus back? Onesimus was here, keeping him company, being a partner in the gospel. Advancing the mission, spurring on Paul’s own heart for its spread. Philemon might not even know. Philemon should forgive anyway. Pragmatic justifications abounded. Paul’s own ease gave reason to keep Onesimus with him. To send him back would be to lose his son, his heart, his company, his encouragement, his hands and feet. To send him in a difficult, painful situation. Paul’s heart skipped a beat for this beloved son of his.

And then, Paul remembered his greater joy.  As he dictated to Philemon, “for I have derived much comfort and joy from your love, my brother…” he knew it. His heart beat with joy. Paul would even make up anything Onesimus owed to Philemon (Philemon 1:18). So zealous was Paul to see both Philemon and Onesimus to live in line with the gospel (Gal. 2:14), to have their love and faith abound, to see reconciliation with God worked out in reconciliation with others, to see God’s kingdom and shalom advance in this little church, that he was willing to sacrifice. So convinced he was of the power of the gospel for salvation and transformation, so convinced of the Lord Jesus’ authority, so convinced of Christ’s forgiveness, so convinced of the Spirit’s sanctifying work, that he was willing to sacrifice. So zealous was he for the gospel, his means and ends both had to be in line. To keep an unreconciled brother in his midst would not be living as Christ! Pragmatic justifications, his own ease, all flew by the wayside.

The power of God….

Onesimus, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other on the road from Rome to Colossae. Returning. Returning to what? Punishment? Would Philemon listen to Paul and forgive him? Would he be punished as a runaway slave as the Roman culture allowed and even expected? What would happen? His life, physical well-being, future at stake. He had a taste of freedom. Dare he go back? He could turn aside, go to another town. Why keep going?

And then, he remembered. The power of Christ to transform Paul the Jew. The power of Christ’s forgiveness. The power of the Spirit within him, manifesting the life of Christ in him to obey (Gal. 2:19-20). The adoption of God, making him his son, and making Philemon his brother. God his Father, able to protect him or give him the strength he needed to endure whatever punishment or slavery or joy that lie ahead. The grace of God, which teaches him to say no to ungodliness (Titus 2:11-14). He would obey and trust this gracious, powerful God.

The power of God….

Philemon, sitting in his pillared house with one slave fanning him and another reading Paul’s letter to him. Onesimus the prodigal before him, head hanging, hands wrung, foot nervously twitching. Philemon, pondering. Should he forgive? Dare he forgive? The neighbors—by forgiving, they might think he is undermining Roman law, undermining societal structures that endanger their lifestyle. He might make enemies. The other slaves might get ideas about running away. Dare he do something so counter-cultural? And wasn’t punishment, revenge, exacting from Onesimus his due? His right? Onesimus stole from him—never mind he was his property in the first place. Philemon had had to bear the weight of his sin, make up for the loss in labor. Dare he just forgive, pass over it lightly?

And then, he remembered. The story Epaphrus (1) had shared that he had heard from Luke—the sinful woman, anointing Christ’s feet, forgiven much, loving much (Lk. 7:36-50). The story Epaphrus had shared that he had heard from the Christ tradition while in Ephesus with Paul, the parable of the unforgiving servant (Mat. 18:21-35). He remembered the forgiveness of Christ. That he had robbed God of his glory, turned his back on God. The debt he had owed God. That he was just as much a recipient of grace as Onesimus was—that no position, education, merit, work of his gained any grace from God. Both sinners, saved by grace. Both now brothers, members of Christ’s body, adopted by God. Both indwelt by the same Spirit, the Spirit who was growing the life of Christ in him, producing the same spirit of forgiveness: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”

The power of God to transform….

Hearts of stone to hearts of flesh

Haters to lovers

Disobedient to courageously obedient

Self-seekers to God-trusters

Slaves and masters to brothers

Oppression to love

Bitter bearing to forgiving

This, this is the power of God, seen in the dreary stretch of days in prison, seen in a single step after single step, seen in the working out of daily life. In hearts like mine.

The power of God. 

NOTES

(1) Many believe Epaphrus had founded the church in Colossae, and there is reason to believe Philemon was at the church in Colossae.