Onesimus
Drama
Bit Players In The Big Play
Peter K. Perry
Onesimus, the once runaway slave of Philemon, who became a co-worker with Paul, tells his story.
Hello. My name is Onesimus, Bishop of Ephesus. We bishops spend so much time dealing with the administrative tasks of the church, and the controversies that spring up almost daily, that we rarely get an opportunity like this one. Preaching to you today reminds me of the old days. You see, I wasn't always a bishop. Before God blessed me with this calling to be the shepherd of the Ephesian Church, I was just a preacher. And before that ... yes, before that, I was just a slave. I was just a slave.
I was born into the household of Philemon of Colossae, my master. My mother had lived her entire life as handmaid to our mistress Apphia, wife of Philemon. She died soon after my birth, and so nursemaids raised me alongside the master's son, Archippus. My father worked in Philemon's fields, though I rarely saw him. My early childhood in Philemon's house was blissful. I would play all the day long with Archippus, who was just a year younger than me. Once we were old enough to escape the watchful eyes of the nurses, we would escape the house to roam the hills around Colossae. From some of the higher ones we fancied that we could see the vastness of the great sea to the south, or the great city of Ephesus, a fortnight's journey to the east. Colossae itself was situated in the Lychus Valley, near the headwaters of the Meander River. Since it was on the busy road that the merchants used to carry their goods west to Greece and east to Antioch, the city was always an exciting, bustling place. On days when Archippus and I weren't exploring the hills, we were usually exploring the city and, more often than not, getting into a great deal of mischief.
Officially, I was a manservant for Archippus, but I enjoyed a great deal of freedom, going everywhere he went, doing everything he did. Sometimes I felt as though I was not the son of my father, but of Philemon, for I was treated with much respect by all of the other slaves in the household. Often, when Archippus received a gift from his father, I too would enjoy some token. Growing up with Archippus, even though I was in reality a slave, was a very easy life, and one that I enjoyed immensely. I looked forward to every day.
Well, every day except the Sabbath, that is. Archippus felt the same way. We dreaded the Sabbath. Philemon, you see, had got religion. He was the leading member of a group of Greek Jews who worshiped a man named Jesus. I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Once a week, all of these Christians, as they were beginning to call themselves, would gather in the great hall of my master's house to share a meal and sing hymns. After singing, someone would preach about this man Jesus. Rarely did they have anything exciting to say, however. As members of the household, we all had to go to these gatherings. Since they were the same every week, I took to sleeping through them. After the meal, that is!
One week, just before Archippus turned twelve, a visitor came through Colossae on his way to Ephesus. All of the Christians were excited about the visitor. For once, the Sabbath was different. We still shared the meal and sang the hymns, but afterward this stranger, whose name was Paul, talked all afternoon and into the night. Needless to say, I fell asleep right away. I guess I just wasn't interested in what he had to say. Things certainly changed a few short months later. Little did I know then that one day soon Paul would hold my life in his hands. Had I known then what I know now, I would probably have tried to pay attention to Paul's words. Instead, I slept through the Sabbath as I did every week, and when I woke up the next morning, Paul had already left for Ephesus.
Soon thereafter, Archippus reached his twelfth year. Philemon arranged for him to have lessons from the Academy at Colossae. His studies would take all of his time, and so I would no longer be needed to keep him company. Overnight, I went from enjoying the privileges of being Archippus' companion to being a common, ordinary slave, working beside my father in Philemon's fields, wearing callouses into my hands that had never known hard labor.
Being a field hand was very different from enjoying the privileges of being valet to a boy. I was awakened before the rising sun and worked hard until there was no light to see by in the evening. I ate cold meals in the fields and slept in the slave quarters. There were no more gifts from the master. Worse, there was no longer the look of respect in the eyes of the other slaves.
As if this sudden change in my status in Philemon's house were not bad enough, shortly after I began working in the fields, my father grew sick. In a week he was dead. With both my mother and father gone, with Archippus at the academy, there was nothing to keep me with Philemon -- except of course the small fact that I belonged to him. I was tired of working in the fields. I wanted my freedom again, as I had known it growing up with Archippus.
Brothers and sisters, what I did next is not pleasant for me to recall. I decided to run away, to seek freedom and fortune in Ephesus. But worse, I knew that I would need money, and so I stole from the treasury of Philemon. I took gold, silver, and jewelry -- not too much, but enough to support me for a time in the city. Yes, I, Onesimus, Bishop of Ephesus stole from my master! The memory pains me still, and it shall pain me always. But when I did this terrible deed, I felt no pain at all. I was as yet blind.
I will not bore you with the details of my experiences in Ephesus. Suffice it to say that they resembled those of the Prodigal Son, which our Lord described. I squandered the stolen gold and silver, sold the stolen jewelry, and squandered the money it brought. All this time I lived in fear of my life that I would be found out. For the law of the empire says that the master of a runaway slave has the right to put the slave to death if he so desires. So I kept a low profile. I had to take questionable jobs from people who would hire a person with no history. They didn't ask questions of me and I didn't tell tales on them.
I couldn't afford to buy food. I stole when I could and ate from garbage when I couldn't. I slept in alleys. I came to realize that life had been better as a field hand in the household of Philemon. Oh, yes, then I had been forced to follow orders and work long hours, but at least I ate regularly and slept in a bed. I had traded my life in Colossae for a dream of freedom. But I had been freer as a slave than I was as a runaway. Now I lived in constant fear. Oh, to go back to my former life, but it was too late to go back!
Such was my state of mind the day I saw the stranger who had spoken that Sabbath in Colossae. I could hardly believe that it had only been six months earlier when I had slept through his preaching. Paul was his name. When I saw him, the authorities were arresting him. It seems he had incited a riot by preaching against the graven images and idols the townspeople worshiped. People were listening to Paul, and the metal workers who made the idols feared for their jobs. They started the riot, but Paul was the one who got arrested. They called it protective custody since the authorities were afraid of Paul. He was a popular man and a Roman citizen. Locking him up in house arrest did restore calm to the city, and though Paul couldn't leave his room, his friends could come and go as they pleased. It effectively kept Paul quiet and kept him from doing much preaching about Jesus.
Maybe it was only my imagination, but as I watched Paul being arrested, I thought our eyes made contact and I saw the glimmer of recognition in his. Could he have remembered me from Philemon's house? I felt haunted by that image of his eyes. Were they beckoning to me? Did he know who I was, what I had done? Did he know how I was living in the shadows, how much I regretted having run away? Did he know what a fool I had been? I agonized over that haunting moment for days. I wanted to go to him, but I was afraid. He might turn me in, but on the other hand, I couldn't go on living as I was. It was only a matter of time until my past caught up with me. At last, I decided to see him, and that was the second most important decision of my life.
I went to the house where he was being held. When I had been admitted, Paul greeted me ... by name! He had noticed my slumbering that night in Colossae, and he asked for my name so that he might pray for me, that I might awaken to the message of his master Jesus.
Paul asked me how I came to be in Ephesus without my master. Despite my fears, I poured out the story of my frustration in Colossae, my fallen ways in Ephesus, my fears of being discovered, and of facing my punishment. When I was finished, Paul just looked at me for a few moments, and then he spoke.
"Onesimus, you desire freedom. You have abandoned your master, you have stolen, and you have lived as a criminal lives -- all in search of freedom! Truly, Onesimus, the freedom you seek is already yours. You must simply accept it. Look at me! Am I not free? Has not Jesus Christ made me free? Think about this, and come back tomorrow. I will speak with you again."
How could Paul say that he was free? He was under arrest, guarded day and night! Intrigued, I returned the next day, and the day after, and every day for a fortnight. Paul told me stories of Jesus and freedom, stories I had heard before, but never listened to, stories that now took on new meaning. One day, Paul told me that my chasing after freedom was like running a race.
"Surely you know, Onesimus, that many runners take part in a race, but only one of them wins the prize. Run then, Onesimus! Run in such a way as to win the prize. It is not the prize of being free to come and go as you please. It is not the prize of great wealth and earthly power. No, Onesimus, run for the prize of freedom in Jesus Christ! Run for the finish line that you might find your freedom in him."
I told Paul that I wanted to run that race, that I wanted that freedom. I called Jesus my Savior that day and when I did, I felt free -- freer than I had been when lying in the sun in the hills about Colossae together with Archippus, freer than when I was newly arrived in Ephesus with Philemon's money. For the first time in my life I was truly free. Letting Jesus into my life was the most important decision I ever made!
There still remained the problem of Philemon. I was still a runaway slave, and a thief to boot. But Paul had an answer to that also. The very next day, when I went to visit Paul, he wrote a letter on my behalf to Philemon, the contents of which you are no doubt familiar. He explained all that had happened in Ephesus, and how he had found me. He told me he would intercede on my behalf, and folding the letter, he sealed it. I took the letter, and Paul's blessing, and I returned to Colossae.
Of course, when Philemon received me, he was threatening the worst. But as he read the letter from Paul, his mood changed and he began to smile.
"Onesimus," he said, "truly in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free. The freedom you have found far exceeds the freedom I give you today. Consider yourself forgiven and return now to Paul, as he has need of you in Ephesus."
And so I did just that. I was with Paul until the end, my knowledge and faith growing in his presence. By association with him, I became Bishop of Ephesus. And yet, strangely my fame is not from my episcopal office, but from my bondage and my liberation through the love of Jesus.
That, friends, is the story of my life. That is my testimony. The events I've described happened a long time ago, and I have lived far more than my share of years. I've seen much in all of the years, but of all of my experiences, of all the stories I could tell you today, this one is my favorite. For in Jesus Christ, I found my freedom.
Onesimus, the once runaway slave of Philemon, who became a co-worker with Paul, tells his story.
Hello. My name is Onesimus, Bishop of Ephesus. We bishops spend so much time dealing with the administrative tasks of the church, and the controversies that spring up almost daily, that we rarely get an opportunity like this one. Preaching to you today reminds me of the old days. You see, I wasn't always a bishop. Before God blessed me with this calling to be the shepherd of the Ephesian Church, I was just a preacher. And before that ... yes, before that, I was just a slave. I was just a slave.
I was born into the household of Philemon of Colossae, my master. My mother had lived her entire life as handmaid to our mistress Apphia, wife of Philemon. She died soon after my birth, and so nursemaids raised me alongside the master's son, Archippus. My father worked in Philemon's fields, though I rarely saw him. My early childhood in Philemon's house was blissful. I would play all the day long with Archippus, who was just a year younger than me. Once we were old enough to escape the watchful eyes of the nurses, we would escape the house to roam the hills around Colossae. From some of the higher ones we fancied that we could see the vastness of the great sea to the south, or the great city of Ephesus, a fortnight's journey to the east. Colossae itself was situated in the Lychus Valley, near the headwaters of the Meander River. Since it was on the busy road that the merchants used to carry their goods west to Greece and east to Antioch, the city was always an exciting, bustling place. On days when Archippus and I weren't exploring the hills, we were usually exploring the city and, more often than not, getting into a great deal of mischief.
Officially, I was a manservant for Archippus, but I enjoyed a great deal of freedom, going everywhere he went, doing everything he did. Sometimes I felt as though I was not the son of my father, but of Philemon, for I was treated with much respect by all of the other slaves in the household. Often, when Archippus received a gift from his father, I too would enjoy some token. Growing up with Archippus, even though I was in reality a slave, was a very easy life, and one that I enjoyed immensely. I looked forward to every day.
Well, every day except the Sabbath, that is. Archippus felt the same way. We dreaded the Sabbath. Philemon, you see, had got religion. He was the leading member of a group of Greek Jews who worshiped a man named Jesus. I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Once a week, all of these Christians, as they were beginning to call themselves, would gather in the great hall of my master's house to share a meal and sing hymns. After singing, someone would preach about this man Jesus. Rarely did they have anything exciting to say, however. As members of the household, we all had to go to these gatherings. Since they were the same every week, I took to sleeping through them. After the meal, that is!
One week, just before Archippus turned twelve, a visitor came through Colossae on his way to Ephesus. All of the Christians were excited about the visitor. For once, the Sabbath was different. We still shared the meal and sang the hymns, but afterward this stranger, whose name was Paul, talked all afternoon and into the night. Needless to say, I fell asleep right away. I guess I just wasn't interested in what he had to say. Things certainly changed a few short months later. Little did I know then that one day soon Paul would hold my life in his hands. Had I known then what I know now, I would probably have tried to pay attention to Paul's words. Instead, I slept through the Sabbath as I did every week, and when I woke up the next morning, Paul had already left for Ephesus.
Soon thereafter, Archippus reached his twelfth year. Philemon arranged for him to have lessons from the Academy at Colossae. His studies would take all of his time, and so I would no longer be needed to keep him company. Overnight, I went from enjoying the privileges of being Archippus' companion to being a common, ordinary slave, working beside my father in Philemon's fields, wearing callouses into my hands that had never known hard labor.
Being a field hand was very different from enjoying the privileges of being valet to a boy. I was awakened before the rising sun and worked hard until there was no light to see by in the evening. I ate cold meals in the fields and slept in the slave quarters. There were no more gifts from the master. Worse, there was no longer the look of respect in the eyes of the other slaves.
As if this sudden change in my status in Philemon's house were not bad enough, shortly after I began working in the fields, my father grew sick. In a week he was dead. With both my mother and father gone, with Archippus at the academy, there was nothing to keep me with Philemon -- except of course the small fact that I belonged to him. I was tired of working in the fields. I wanted my freedom again, as I had known it growing up with Archippus.
Brothers and sisters, what I did next is not pleasant for me to recall. I decided to run away, to seek freedom and fortune in Ephesus. But worse, I knew that I would need money, and so I stole from the treasury of Philemon. I took gold, silver, and jewelry -- not too much, but enough to support me for a time in the city. Yes, I, Onesimus, Bishop of Ephesus stole from my master! The memory pains me still, and it shall pain me always. But when I did this terrible deed, I felt no pain at all. I was as yet blind.
I will not bore you with the details of my experiences in Ephesus. Suffice it to say that they resembled those of the Prodigal Son, which our Lord described. I squandered the stolen gold and silver, sold the stolen jewelry, and squandered the money it brought. All this time I lived in fear of my life that I would be found out. For the law of the empire says that the master of a runaway slave has the right to put the slave to death if he so desires. So I kept a low profile. I had to take questionable jobs from people who would hire a person with no history. They didn't ask questions of me and I didn't tell tales on them.
I couldn't afford to buy food. I stole when I could and ate from garbage when I couldn't. I slept in alleys. I came to realize that life had been better as a field hand in the household of Philemon. Oh, yes, then I had been forced to follow orders and work long hours, but at least I ate regularly and slept in a bed. I had traded my life in Colossae for a dream of freedom. But I had been freer as a slave than I was as a runaway. Now I lived in constant fear. Oh, to go back to my former life, but it was too late to go back!
Such was my state of mind the day I saw the stranger who had spoken that Sabbath in Colossae. I could hardly believe that it had only been six months earlier when I had slept through his preaching. Paul was his name. When I saw him, the authorities were arresting him. It seems he had incited a riot by preaching against the graven images and idols the townspeople worshiped. People were listening to Paul, and the metal workers who made the idols feared for their jobs. They started the riot, but Paul was the one who got arrested. They called it protective custody since the authorities were afraid of Paul. He was a popular man and a Roman citizen. Locking him up in house arrest did restore calm to the city, and though Paul couldn't leave his room, his friends could come and go as they pleased. It effectively kept Paul quiet and kept him from doing much preaching about Jesus.
Maybe it was only my imagination, but as I watched Paul being arrested, I thought our eyes made contact and I saw the glimmer of recognition in his. Could he have remembered me from Philemon's house? I felt haunted by that image of his eyes. Were they beckoning to me? Did he know who I was, what I had done? Did he know how I was living in the shadows, how much I regretted having run away? Did he know what a fool I had been? I agonized over that haunting moment for days. I wanted to go to him, but I was afraid. He might turn me in, but on the other hand, I couldn't go on living as I was. It was only a matter of time until my past caught up with me. At last, I decided to see him, and that was the second most important decision of my life.
I went to the house where he was being held. When I had been admitted, Paul greeted me ... by name! He had noticed my slumbering that night in Colossae, and he asked for my name so that he might pray for me, that I might awaken to the message of his master Jesus.
Paul asked me how I came to be in Ephesus without my master. Despite my fears, I poured out the story of my frustration in Colossae, my fallen ways in Ephesus, my fears of being discovered, and of facing my punishment. When I was finished, Paul just looked at me for a few moments, and then he spoke.
"Onesimus, you desire freedom. You have abandoned your master, you have stolen, and you have lived as a criminal lives -- all in search of freedom! Truly, Onesimus, the freedom you seek is already yours. You must simply accept it. Look at me! Am I not free? Has not Jesus Christ made me free? Think about this, and come back tomorrow. I will speak with you again."
How could Paul say that he was free? He was under arrest, guarded day and night! Intrigued, I returned the next day, and the day after, and every day for a fortnight. Paul told me stories of Jesus and freedom, stories I had heard before, but never listened to, stories that now took on new meaning. One day, Paul told me that my chasing after freedom was like running a race.
"Surely you know, Onesimus, that many runners take part in a race, but only one of them wins the prize. Run then, Onesimus! Run in such a way as to win the prize. It is not the prize of being free to come and go as you please. It is not the prize of great wealth and earthly power. No, Onesimus, run for the prize of freedom in Jesus Christ! Run for the finish line that you might find your freedom in him."
I told Paul that I wanted to run that race, that I wanted that freedom. I called Jesus my Savior that day and when I did, I felt free -- freer than I had been when lying in the sun in the hills about Colossae together with Archippus, freer than when I was newly arrived in Ephesus with Philemon's money. For the first time in my life I was truly free. Letting Jesus into my life was the most important decision I ever made!
There still remained the problem of Philemon. I was still a runaway slave, and a thief to boot. But Paul had an answer to that also. The very next day, when I went to visit Paul, he wrote a letter on my behalf to Philemon, the contents of which you are no doubt familiar. He explained all that had happened in Ephesus, and how he had found me. He told me he would intercede on my behalf, and folding the letter, he sealed it. I took the letter, and Paul's blessing, and I returned to Colossae.
Of course, when Philemon received me, he was threatening the worst. But as he read the letter from Paul, his mood changed and he began to smile.
"Onesimus," he said, "truly in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free. The freedom you have found far exceeds the freedom I give you today. Consider yourself forgiven and return now to Paul, as he has need of you in Ephesus."
And so I did just that. I was with Paul until the end, my knowledge and faith growing in his presence. By association with him, I became Bishop of Ephesus. And yet, strangely my fame is not from my episcopal office, but from my bondage and my liberation through the love of Jesus.
That, friends, is the story of my life. That is my testimony. The events I've described happened a long time ago, and I have lived far more than my share of years. I've seen much in all of the years, but of all of my experiences, of all the stories I could tell you today, this one is my favorite. For in Jesus Christ, I found my freedom.
