The Gospel Coalition

That’s the remarkable sentence written by the apostle Paul to “dear friend and fellow worker” Philemon.  Paul had come into contact with Onesimus, a runaway slave from Philemon.  Onesimus became Paul’s son in the faith while Paul was imprisoned.  I don’t know if Onesimus himself was imprisoned, and by God’s providence was brought into contact with the apostle.  Or, if Onesimus ran expressly to Paul knowing the apostle’s relationship with Philemon.

Whatever the case, a man who was judged useless to that point had his eternal destiny changed and became useful both to Paul and Philemon in a single sovereign stroke of the Spirit’s hand.  Now he is being sent back to Philemon.

But he doesn’t go empty-handed.  He carries a letter, a letter written by an apostle of Jesus Christ.

Can you imagine Philemon’s furrowed brow and frowning face, as Onesimus slinked back to his owner?  Can you imagine the sense of vindication Philemon must have felt at receiving back what he “owned”?  He felt wronged.  Now, the apostle appears to agree.  He’s sent Onesimus back.

Philemon takes the scroll, scowling as Onesimus bows his head and looks at his feet.  Philemon breaks the seal and unrolls the parchment.  He begins to read.  ”Ahh… a letter from my dear Paul.  I owe him so much, even thanksgiving for my eternal life.”  He reads, “Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker.”  His heart warms and shoulders relax.

He continues to read, forgetting for a moment Onesimus and the circumstances leading to receipt of the letter.  Then the explosion!

Paul writes, “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.”  Boldness would seem the more aggressive approach, befitting the tragedy of human bondage.  But the apostle reaches for a longer, sharper dagger: love.

Love becomes the basis of Paul’s appeal to release Onesimus.  It’s what Philemon “ought to do,” but mere moral ought isn’t deeply persuasive and sustaining enough.  Philemon might meet every “ought” of one sort with an alternative “right” of another.  But who can meet love with insistence on personal rights?  Who can respond to love from a dear friend with a hard, stony heart?  Not the Christian.

And so love becomes the apostle’s trump card, not authority.  And love becomes the slave owners undoing, not rebellion.  In a single stroke of the quill, the apostle models that surest basis of Christian leadership and calls a man being sanctified to stand on the surest foundation of Christian ethics: love.  Paul sets aside his apostolic authority, his right to rule, in favor of love, so that Philemon might set aside his authority to own in order to set free.  Only love could be so efficient.  Only love could be so disarming on the one hand and completely explosive on the other.

Is it any wonder we’re told “God is love”?   And that we should “be imitators of God, as dearly loved children, and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:1-2)?  Love is that most God-like attribute with the most explosive quality, which is why it never fails but abides as the greatest (1 Cor. 13:8, 13).

Love like God today.  Set aside a right and undermine a wrong with love.  Consider Jesus, who though He was in very nature God did not regard equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself of no reputation and took on our nature.  Then, in love, he undermined all the wrong of our sin, all the schemes of the devil, all the claims of death, and all the chaos of a fallen cosmos by taking our place on the cross, dying our death, and rising for our life and His glory.  There’s never been a love that’s simultaneously undermined so much wrong and established so much life.  Let us love like that!