Onesimus woke from a troubled...
Illustration
Onesimus woke from a troubled sleep with a start: Had there been a soft noise, a warning of someone stealthily gliding toward him in the dankness? He held his breath to listen: a soft scrabbling sound, and then a few, high pitched whistling noises. A rat! He sighed in relief.
Even with the letter from Paul in his hand, he was nervous. An escaped slave, returning, and within a day's journey from his master --how ironic it would be to be caught now, jailed for removing his slave collar, perhaps sold to the galleys, to perish at the great oars! It could happen. It had happened to others. His only hope was to gain his master's courtyard before he was found and turned in. Another scuffling sound, and a twitter from the rooftop above him: Some sleeper had turned over in his dreams, and a sparrow was protesting the disturbance. Onesimus shambled to his feet, arched his back and attempted to stretch the early morning fog from his muscles. In the east, the sky had lightened just a shade or two, but it was enough to convince him to move on.
It was late afternoon when Onesimus reached his master's gates. He was surprised to see his master himself at the gate, and hesitated a moment to gather his courage. Then he sprinted up to his master and prostrated himself, holding up the parchment with Paul's seal on it for his master to see, hoping to spare himself some blows before his appeal was read. To his surprise, not a harsh word was spoken, as the man broke the seal and read the short letter. A few short bursts of ironic laughter broke the murmured reading, and then his master touched his head. "It seems you have a powerful patron against my anger, my boy," the master said. "Paul has called in the favors I owe him. Well, get up, come in and eat, and we will talk over your future service in this house." Tears in his eyes, the runaway slave followed Philemon into the house, grateful for the Christian faith which had transformed them both. He had reason, now, to trust the future! Praise to the Lord Jesus Christ!
- Herrmann
Even with the letter from Paul in his hand, he was nervous. An escaped slave, returning, and within a day's journey from his master --how ironic it would be to be caught now, jailed for removing his slave collar, perhaps sold to the galleys, to perish at the great oars! It could happen. It had happened to others. His only hope was to gain his master's courtyard before he was found and turned in. Another scuffling sound, and a twitter from the rooftop above him: Some sleeper had turned over in his dreams, and a sparrow was protesting the disturbance. Onesimus shambled to his feet, arched his back and attempted to stretch the early morning fog from his muscles. In the east, the sky had lightened just a shade or two, but it was enough to convince him to move on.
It was late afternoon when Onesimus reached his master's gates. He was surprised to see his master himself at the gate, and hesitated a moment to gather his courage. Then he sprinted up to his master and prostrated himself, holding up the parchment with Paul's seal on it for his master to see, hoping to spare himself some blows before his appeal was read. To his surprise, not a harsh word was spoken, as the man broke the seal and read the short letter. A few short bursts of ironic laughter broke the murmured reading, and then his master touched his head. "It seems you have a powerful patron against my anger, my boy," the master said. "Paul has called in the favors I owe him. Well, get up, come in and eat, and we will talk over your future service in this house." Tears in his eyes, the runaway slave followed Philemon into the house, grateful for the Christian faith which had transformed them both. He had reason, now, to trust the future! Praise to the Lord Jesus Christ!
- Herrmann
