Philemon 1:1

Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy, our brother. To Philemon, our beloved friend and fellow laborer. To the beloved Aphia and Archippus, our fellow soldier. And to the church in your house. Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I thank my God making mention of you always in my prayers. Hearing of your love and your faith which you have toward the Lord Jesus and toward all the saints... For we have great joy and consolation in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed by you, brother. (Philemon 1:1–7)

A runaway slave, an audacious ask, and a letter about the freedom only forgiveness can give.

A Boy, a Fire, and an Unexpected Pardon

It was the kind of thing that seven-year-old boys do. My friend Nathan and I were out in the field behind my parents' house—old orange groves, a nice little clearing, a small pile of greasy rags, and a lighter. Just what a seven-year-old needs. Who knew dried grass burns so quickly? Faster than a seven-year-old brain can process what to do. To this day I believe it was a miracle of God's grace that we got that fire out.

As we stood in the middle of that blackened ground, two thoughts went through my mind: my short life is over, and it's over because I have to go tell my parents. The impulse wasn't admirable—it was fear that the fire might start back up, so I needed my dad to come make sure it was out. But by the end of the day, the thing that shocked me more than anything was that I didn't get punished. A fast confession led to a complete pardon.

The ironic end came three years ago. I was standing in full uniform with a badge, representing the Escondido Fire Department as a chaplain, opening newly rebuilt Station 4—the very station that services my parents' house. Not ten feet to my right stood the project manager of the company that rebuilt it: none other than my friend Nathan, who had helped me light that fire. That's a true story. Forgiveness is a great thing. God is truly gracious.

Introducing the Book of Philemon

We're beginning a new series called Unchained on the book of Philemon, a small book just before Hebrews. This book was actually a letter—no more than 439 words—written nearly 2,000 years ago by the Apostle Paul. Paul wrote 13 letters in the New Testament; most were written to churches, but three were written to individuals. This is one of those three, written to a man named Philemon.

Philemon lived in the city of Colossae, in modern-day Turkey. He was a wealthy, free man who owned slaves. As soon as we hear the word "slavery" in the 21st century, we picture the kind of slavery that arose in our own nation and was thankfully ended in the 19th century. But first-century slavery was quite different. The Roman Empire was made up predominantly of slaves—it's believed there were in excess of 60 million.

These were not, for the most part, people kidnapped and compelled into slavery, nor enslaved because of their race. Most were in slavery because of a debt they owed—it was predominantly indentured servitude. They had rights afforded by the Roman government: rights to property, to marry, to their own personal possessions. They served, on average, about ten years. Conditions were often so good that many chose to remain under their master even after their debt was paid, because a free but poor man often had a harder life.

A Runaway, a Theft, and an Audacious Errand

The purpose of this letter is clear. Paul is writing to his friend Philemon on behalf of a slave named Onesimus, who had been in Philemon's household but had run away. He fled Colossae, traveled about a thousand miles west, and ultimately ended up in Rome, where by the sovereignty of God he came into the presence of the Apostle Paul, then a prisoner in that city. Through Paul's ministry, Onesimus became a Christian.

Compounding the problem, it seems Onesimus didn't just run away—he stole from Philemon. This meant Philemon had full authority to punish him severely, even with capital punishment. Yet Paul writes this letter and sends it back with that runaway, thieving slave to carry it to his master. The nature of the letter is liberty and forgiveness.

Many have taken this letter and called it a New Testament treatise against slavery, or the abolitionist manifesto. Unfortunately, that's not quite what it is. But it is a letter about liberty, and it is a letter about forgiveness.

Forgiveness Is the Key to Liberty

Forgiveness is the key to liberty, and the gospel is the key to forgiveness. This point is incredibly important. Although this short letter is not a treatise against slavery, it must be stated that where the Bible, the gospel, and Christians have gone over the last 2,000 years, liberty has followed—liberty through better forms of justice, liberty from tyranny, liberty for women, liberty for slaves, liberty for all.

We sit here in 21st-century America, where our children learn to pledge a nation "with liberty and justice for all." We need to understand that there would be no such nation had it not been one nation under a God who is gracious and forgives. That liberty and justice for all is only possible because of the saving grace of God—a liberty not for certain races, classes, or people who speak or look a certain way, but for all.

What was once branded slavery is now called human trafficking, and sadly it remains a major problem throughout the world and even in our own nation. We've lessened the punch of the word, but it's the same thing. In the Western world it's trendy to call oneself a modern-day abolitionist, especially among millennials. But you're not an abolitionist merely by wearing a shirt or using a hashtag. The best way to be a promoter of liberty and justice for all is to be a minister of the gospel—because forgiveness is the key to liberty, and the gospel is the key to forgiveness. This evil institution has been normative to every culture throughout human history until the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The Tyranny of Death and the Slavery to Sin

The greatest tyranny and worst form of slavery in the world is not one we see in one small group in one small area. All of humanity is subject to the tyranny of death because of the slavery to sin. There are over 7.3 billion people on this planet, and every one of us was born under the tyranny of death in slavery to sin. The Bible speaks of this often, especially in Paul's letter to Rome.

But God—we love the "buts" of the Bible. But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses and sins, sent forth His Son, born of a virgin, to die in our place on the cross and redeem us by His blood from slavery to sin. If you're a Christian today, you've been unchained from slavery to sin. You are no longer under the tyranny of death, because the Redeemer, Jesus, has bought you back.

The Greatest Good in the World

Where that message goes, it transforms people, and people who are part of cultures transform the culture. Now, across 2,000 years of church history you can find plenty of problems. There have been people who called themselves Christians and did wrong in the name of the Bible—even people who used Scripture to promote slavery, which is wrong. Christians and non-Christians alike should be ardently opposed to human trafficking.

But predominantly, where the gospel and the church have gone, the influence has been positive—in science, technology, education, medicine, exploration, the arts and music, and the emancipation of oppressed peoples. I cannot think of any area of society where the impact of the church has not ultimately been for the good. The greatest good in the world, in any age, is the grace of God through the gospel.

We're constantly told by a vocal mindset in our culture that the church is a negative impact and that God is bad for the world. Christopher Hitchens, who died of throat cancer a few years ago, wrote a book called God Is Not Great arguing exactly that. But it's simply not true. Most people who write such things just don't like God, and if you go back far enough, there's usually a reason.

I was once running on treadmills next to an atheist. He quickly told me he was an atheist, hoping perhaps for shock value—but you don't want to be shocked too much on a treadmill. As we talked, it came out that his father had died of lung cancer. He had prayed that his lifelong-smoking father would be healed, and he wasn't. His atheism came from his anger at God, not from a reasonable look at the evidence. The gospel is the greatest good in the world, and we need to stand on that and not be browbeaten by people who have an agenda against God.

Paul, a Prisoner of Christ Jesus

When Paul wrote this letter, he was a prisoner—probably under house arrest in Rome. The story is in Acts 22–28. Paul had taken a financial gift from Christians in Asia to the believers in Jerusalem, and there a group against the gospel laid hands on him, beat him, and threw him in jail. Protected oddly enough in a Roman cell, he faced a series of trials in which his accusers claimed he was seditious against Rome. He was not—he was simply a preacher of Jesus Christ.

After two and a half years, Paul, a Roman citizen, appealed to Caesar—the supreme court of the day. So on Rome's dime he was taken to the capital to await his appeal before Nero, one of the craziest Caesars ever. During this first imprisonment Paul wrote Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and this letter to Philemon. He knew he was where he was because Christ Jesus had placed him there.

These words always remind me of how many people feel stuck—incarcerated in a bad job, a bad class, a bad marriage. Paul understood that the difficult situation he was in was for the glory of God. There are times we cry, "God, just get me out of this," and God says, "No, My grace is sufficient for you, and My strength is made perfect in your weakness." That was Paul's experience, and yet still with joy he wrote these letters.

A Beloved Friend and the Audacious Ask

Paul writes, "and Timothy, our brother." Paul first met Timothy on his first missionary journey in the region of Galatia and asked the young man to come with him. Timothy became Paul's disciple, and ultimately the mantle of Paul's ministry would rest on him; after Paul's death, Timothy would pastor the church at Ephesus.

"To Philemon, our beloved friend and fellow laborer." Paul is building toward what salespeople call "the ask"—and it's an audacious one: Philemon, I know Onesimus ran away and stole from you. But he's a believer now, and so are you, and you should forgive him and free him, even though you have the authority to kill him. But you don't jump straight into the ask. So Paul, a good pitch man, says, "You are my beloved friend." Philemon had special, beloved character because the gospel had transformed his life—and Paul, as he hints later, was the one who preached that gospel to him.

Verse 2: "To the beloved Aphia and Archippus, our fellow soldier, and to the church in your house." Though written personally to Philemon, this letter was to be read aloud to the Christians who gathered in his home. For all intents and purposes, Philemon was a connect group host. Many believe Aphia was Philemon's wife and Archippus his son—Archippus is also mentioned in Colossians 4:17, where Paul urges the church to encourage him to be faithful to his ministry. So Philemon, with his wife and his grown son, hosted the church in Colossae. His large house and his ownership of slaves like Onesimus show he was wealthy, hospitable, and a leader in the church.

Grace and Peace from God

Verse 3: "Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." Nearly all of Paul's 13 letters begin with these words, so there's been much teaching on them. Some note that "grace" echoed the common Greco-Roman greeting and "peace" (shalom) the Hebrew one—so perhaps Paul greets both Gentiles and Jews.

These two words are often called the Siamese twins of the New Testament; they're always together, and grace is always the firstborn. For us to have peace with God, we must first receive the grace of God. And it's always from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. He who knew no sin became sin for us—on the cross He took our sin upon Himself so we could come into relationship with God, no longer at war but at peace.

Grace is the means of forgiveness, and peace is the result. Forgiveness is an act of pure grace. There I was, seven years old, expecting the rod of correction. Proverbs says foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction drives it far from him. I anticipated that rod—and didn't get it. Almost thirty years later, that act of pardoning grace still lingers in my mind. I didn't deserve it; I should have received punishment, and I didn't.

To support this from Scripture, look at Ephesians 1:7, written by the same Paul: "In Him we have redemption through His blood"—He purchased us slaves back to Himself, not with corruptible things like silver and gold, but with His precious blood—"the forgiveness of sins according to the riches of His grace." Forgiveness is an act of pure grace.

A Praiseworthy Man with Active Faith

Verse 4: "I thank my God making mention of you always in my prayers." Philemon was a praiseworthy individual. Every time he came to Paul's mind, Paul praised God for him. Do you have friends like that? Are you a friend like that—one for whom people give thanks to God?

Why was Philemon praiseworthy? Verse 5: "Hearing of your love and faith, which you have toward the Lord Jesus and toward all the saints." Philemon had the marks of Christian maturity—faith and love. For Paul to acknowledge it from a thousand miles away in a prison cell, that faith and love must have been tangibly expressed. We all know that someone can say "I love you" and have it mean nothing. But Philemon's faith worked. James says faith without works is dead. Philemon had a vibrant faith that overflowed in expressions of love to others.

Verse 6 is Paul's prayer: "that the sharing of your faith may become effective by the acknowledgment of every good thing which is in you in Christ Jesus." Paul prayed that Philemon's faith and love would increase, abound, and become more effective.

Forgiving Grace Is a Seed That Produces Sweet Fruit

Paul could pray this with confidence, because forgiving grace is a seed that produces sweet fruit. When God's grace comes into the heart of a person who has suffered under the tyranny of death, the cross of Christ destroys the bondage and imparts the DNA of God's goodness, transforming us from the inside out.

A lot of people think, "I can't come to God or to church until I clean up my life." But you'll never be able to clean it up on your own, and if you wait for that, you'll never come. What the Scriptures reveal is that we come to God totally broken and say, "God, I set the fire, everything's charred and black—help." And He forgives us, and His grace goes into our hearts and transforms us. That was certainly the case with Philemon.

Verse 7: "For we have great joy and consolation in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed by you, brother." The reports of Philemon's tangible love made Paul happy and comforted him. Interestingly, in Philippians 1:15–16, written at the same time, Paul mentions some who called themselves Christians yet acted spitefully to make his imprisonment more miserable. While they worked against him, Philemon's life brought him joy.

Questions to Carry With You

So how has God's grace changed you? It should be evident in the way you live. As we close, here are a few questions to ponder this week. What is the effect of your life upon the lives of others? Philemon's character so refreshed people that Paul was given joy by him. Are people refreshed by your beloved character, or are they repulsed?

And finally: has God's forgiving grace influenced you to be gracious, forgiving, faithful, and loving to others? If it hasn't, you're not a Christian. That's not me saying it—Jesus said it: "If you do not forgive men their trespasses, He will not forgive you yours."

This doesn't mean you easily forgive everyone with no struggle. We've all felt that struggle when someone wrongs us, and that struggle is the struggle of a Christian. I guarantee Philemon felt a struggle when Onesimus stood at his door handing him Paul's letter. But here's what's going to happen: by ten o'clock tomorrow morning, plenty of people are going to tick you off—especially if you're driving south on the 15 like I will be taking my kids to school. We'll have an opportunity to see if this works out. It may be a struggle, but His grace should transform us. Amen?

Closing Prayer

God, I thank You that You have given us liberty through the gospel. I pray this morning for any here who have yet to experience being unchained from the tyranny of death and slavery to sin. Lord Jesus, draw them to Yourself, for You are the one who there on the cross made it possible. The cross destroys the binding chains of sin and death. Use us to carry that good news to others, because tomorrow in our workplaces and on school campuses around the county we'll meet loads of people still shackled in slavery to sin—and the gospel sets them free. God, give us a passion for sharing that good news. We praise You and thank You in Jesus' name, and all those who agree said, Amen.