Paul's Letter to Philemon
We have been learning and discussing the letters of Paul that he wrote from prison in Rome to various churches. This particular letter, however, is unique because it wasn’t written to a church—it was written to a person. Paul only wrote a couple of personal letters, and this is one of them. The other is the letter to Timothy. All his other letters were addressed to churches.
Paul was imprisoned somewhere around 60 to 62 AD for preaching the gospel. He was imprisoned in Rome because, as a Roman citizen, he had the right to be tried there. He was taken to Rome and held under house arrest, which allowed him some freedom to receive visitors. Apparently, that’s how he was able to have friends visit him, and through them, he sent these letters to various churches.
This particular letter is very unique. It has—how many chapters? Just one. So if someone ever asks you, “Have you read Philemon chapter 2 or 3?” they’re trying to fool you. And if anyone ever asks, “Have you ever read a whole book of the Bible?” you can say, “Yes, I have—today we read the whole book of Philemon!”
This is one of the shortest letters Paul wrote. It contains just 25 verses. There are three books in the New Testament—Philemon, 3 John, and the letter of Jude—that have only one chapter each. Eventually, we’ll get to those as we go through the Bible. There’s also a book in the Old Testament—Obadiah—that has just one chapter. So how many books have only one chapter? Four: one in the Old Testament and three in the New Testament.
This book, Philemon, has 25 verses. We read through the entire book—thank you, Lisa, for reading that aloud. It was a long reading, but I wanted us to hear the whole thing. This letter is very, very unique. You wouldn’t guess, from the spirit of the letter, that it was written by someone in prison. That’s why it was important to read it in full—because even though Paul was in prison, his heart was with the people outside.
From prison, Paul wrote many powerful and effective letters: Philemon, Philippians, Colossians... we’ve talked about these. Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon—these are known as the “prison letters.” Paul reminds all believers through them that even when you are in prison, or in difficult circumstances, you can still be doing ministry. That’s exactly what Paul was doing.
Sometimes we find excuses to avoid ministry because we’re facing some situation or limitation. We may not be in a physical prison like Paul, but we might feel imprisoned in our own lives—through sickness, immobility, grief, or personal struggles. We might be bound by things that weigh us down. Yet even in those situations, Paul reminds us—through his life and writings—that we can still be productive and minister to others.
Here we see a prisoner who is trying to set another prisoner or a slave free. Paul is trying to do this by sending a letter to Philemon. The background of this story is that Philemon was a wealthy businessman in Colossae, and the church in Colossae met in his home. Onesimus, his servant—what we’d now call a slave—was managing his business. For some reason, Onesimus decided it would be better to steal some money and run away.
Sometimes when you work for someone, you might feel tempted to take everything and just disappear. Just yesterday, there was news about someone in Cumming who was arrested for stealing $120,000 from a thrift store they were managing. People still do these things. Sometimes they think having some quick money is better than keeping a good job.
That’s apparently what Onesimus did—he stole and ran away. Naturally, Philemon had every reason to be angry. Paul understood the situation. Some say Onesimus ended up in prison with Paul in Rome because of other crimes. Some people just don’t stop doing wrong until they face consequences. Others believe he met Paul accidentally—maybe Paul was preaching to other prisoners, or through mutual connections Onesimus came to Paul, wanting to know about Jesus Christ.
Either way, Paul ministered to him. Onesimus became a follower of Jesus Christ and changed his life. But Paul didn’t stop there. He wanted to reconcile Onesimus with Philemon. This is an example of how ministry goes beyond just leading someone to Christ. It doesn’t stop at conversion. We have to nurture people. We have to raise them in the faith. That’s also part of our ministry.
Even from prison, Paul understood this. He not only led Onesimus to Christ, but took the next step—working to reconcile him with Philemon. That’s our calling too. Sometimes we avoid getting involved in relationship issues—family conflicts, personal misunderstandings, husband and wife disputes—because they’re difficult. But as Christians, we can’t just turn a blind eye. We often say, “It’s not my problem. I don’t want to get involved.” But that’s not Christian ministry. Christian ministry is about bringing people together.
It’s hard. It’s uncomfortable. But trusting in God and stepping into those situations with boldness can make a world of difference.
Paul changed his perspective on ministry. He made his prison cell a pulpit. From there, he continued his work. You know, John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim’s Progress while he was in prison—and it became one of the most famous books in Christian history. William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, lost his sight but didn’t stop his ministry. Fanny Crosby was blind from infancy, yet she wrote many of the greatest hymns we still sing today—like “Blessed Assurance.”
Even when we feel trapped by our circumstances, we can still be useful to God’s Kingdom—even through something as simple as prayer.
But getting into the ministry of reconciliation is especially tough. I’ve had to go through several such situations, and one of them was particularly difficult when I was serving a previous church years ago.
There was a lead leader of the church who eventually developed cancer. In his final days, he was in hospice care at home. I visited him weekly. He had two sons—the older son lived nearby and took care of him. They had prepared everything in the house for his final days.
But something was still bothering him deeply. His second son had left the family about 30 years earlier after a major disagreement over money or some other issue. He completely cut off communication. The mother, however, kept some limited contact and knew where he was.
She came to me and said, “Pastor, can you do anything? We need to let my second son know that his dad is in hospice, and no one wants to call him.”
At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get involved. But I asked them if they had any contact info. They gave me his name. I looked him up—and found out he was the CEO of a big company. A very busy person. When I read his profile, I thought, “How am I going to call this man?” He didn’t know me. I was worried—especially with my accent and background—that he might dismiss me immediately.
So I was put in a very difficult situation. I told the family, “Let me pray about it. I’ll do what I can,” because I didn’t want to disappoint them. The older brother didn’t want anything to do with the call, so it all fell on me.
I went home with a heavy heart. I didn’t know what to do. I had the phone number, and the mom was desperate. It was all in my hands.
I went home and prayed. I didn’t call. I didn’t have the courage to call because I didn’t want to embarrass the other son, or surprise him with the sad news. So I waited a couple of days, and then I called back Elita—the mom—and she said, “Pastor, thank you, thank you for calling. My son called back.”
I said, “I never called. I didn’t do anything.” But somehow, through Facebook or somebody’s group or chat, the younger son found out about this. See how God works together? He called the mom, and finally they decided to come. He came, and I was there when he arrived. We had a good chat and a good reconciliation, and the dad was very happy before he died. That moment taught me something very powerful—that our ministry does not stop at leading people to Christ. It goes beyond that. There is a whole different world out there where people need reconciliation and relationships restored.
If the Church and the people of God do not do this, who else is going to do it? I know the politicians don’t want to get involved. The court system definitely doesn’t like you there. So who is going to step in? The Church has a ministry to reconcile people and to bring relationships back together—within families, among friends, and in the body of Christ. That is one of the lessons Paul teaches through his letter to Philemon: our relationships are deeply important. We must embrace this as part of our calling—to bring people together.
Paul is sending Onesimus to Philemon. In the first part of the letter, we read: Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother. He calls himself a prisoner and tells Philemon, “Hey, listen, I am in prison here, trying to send another guy who is also in prison in his mind—because he’s broken and carrying guilt. He wants to reconcile, to repent, and to ask for an apology from you. Would you accept him?”
Many times, even when we want to repent and ask for forgiveness, we don’t do it—because we don’t know if the other side will accept our apology. Reconciliation is a two-way street. Even when someone wants to apologize, they are reluctant because they don’t know how the other person will respond. So it’s like a two-edged sword. We need someone in the middle to reconcile this.
That’s where our ministry comes in. That’s what Paul is saying. Even though there are two people probably ready to reconcile, there has to be some means for them to do it. Paul says, “I am that person. Even though I am a prisoner, even though I am in chains, I can send you Onesimus with this letter.” He sent this letter—along with the letter to the church in Colossae—to Philemon. Paul addresses Philemon: “To our dear brother and fellow worker, to Apphia our sister, and to the church that meets in your home.” Apparently, the church in Colossae was meeting at Philemon’s house. He was a rich man, a businessman. Paul continues: “I thank my God and remember you in my prayers because I hear about your love for people and your faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I pray that your partnership with us in the faith may be effective in deepening your understanding of every good thing we share for the sake of Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people.”
So Paul is telling Philemon, “I know you have a loving heart. You’re kind-hearted. You open your house for the church to meet in. You’re a good man.” He’s preparing Philemon’s heart to take Onesimus back.Then Paul makes his appeal: “I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, who became my son while I was in chains. Formerly, he was useless to you, but now he has become useful both to you and to me.” This is a play on words because the name Onesimus in Greek means “useful.” When he was with Philemon as his worker, his employee, he was useful. But after running away and stealing Philemon’s money, he became useless—at least in Philemon’s eyes. So Philemon may not have wanted him back.
But since Onesimus is now a new person in Jesus Christ, Paul tells Philemon, “He is not the same person anymore. He is a Christian now. He accepted Christ. I want you to take him back—not as a servant, but as a brother.” We need to understand this: even though people around us may work for us, they are still our brothers and sisters. We may be employees and employers, bosses and workers—but as Christians, we must consider others as our brothers and sisters, no matter our positions.
Paul is saying, “Even though Onesimus’ name means useful, and you may not consider him useful anymore, he is now useful in Christ.” Onesimus found freedom in Christ. Even though he was guilty, he repented. And the heart of Paul’s plea to Philemon is summed up in this: “Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back forever.”
Paul wanted Onesimus to be received not just as a servant, but also as a brother. Then Paul says, “If he has done anything wrong or owes you anything, charge it to me.” That is another ministry lesson. Paul is taking ownership of the debts Onesimus caused. He’s saying, “I will pay it back to you.”
What kind of ministry, what kind of spirit, does it take to pay the debts of someone else—a thief, a runaway slave? Paul stands in the middle, reconciling these two people, saying, “I will pay his debts.” This reminds us of the Good Samaritan story Jesus told. The Samaritan cared for the man beaten by robbers, took him to an inn, paid for his expenses, and even told the innkeeper, “If you spend more, I will pay it back when I return.” That is also our ministry. It costs not only time and money—it takes personal involvement. That is the cost of being a Christian.
At the heart of Christianity is the doctrine of substitution. That is what Christ did for us. We were all sinners, unable to pay anything back to reconcile with God. But Jesus Christ came and gave Himself for us. He gave His life and paid the price on the cross of Calvary. Even though the gift of salvation is free, a great price was paid—the life of Christ Himself. We had an unpayable debt. We could never reconcile with God because of our sins. But Christ paid the price for us. We are all debtors to God, reconciled because Jesus Christ paid for us.
Forgiveness and reconciliation are spotlighted in the life of Onesimus and the book of Philemon. Forgiveness is a Christian responsibility. There are always three people involved: the debtor, the one who was hurt, and the reconciler—the mediator—just like God, us, and Jesus Christ. Our ministry is the same: the one who is hurt, the one who caused the hurt, and the reconciler between them. Just as God sent Jesus Christ to this world, we are called to be reconcilers. Christians ought to look beyond the faults of others in order to forgive.
This book is about the ministry of reconciliation and forgiveness. Last week, there was a great story on TV about a Georgia woman named Regina Johnson in Cherokee County—our neighboring county. On August 7, there was a big drama in a courtroom. Regina Johnson hugged and forgave 24-year-old Joseph Tilman, who was convicted of killing her husband.
A year ago, Tilman, under the influence of nitrous oxide, struck her husband Charles, a 78-year-old man riding his e-bike on the sidewalk—killing him. Tilman was convicted and sentenced to 20 years behind bars. But in the courtroom, the widow of Charles asked the judge for an opportunity to forgive him. The judge agreed, and on live TV, she walked over and hugged the young man, saying, “I forgive you.” Nobody would want to forgive such a person—but that moment changed the young man’s life. He apologized, and though he must still serve time, reconciliation began there. That moment transformed his life.
Just like Onesimus, who, after reconciliation with Philemon through Paul’s intervention, became a bishop of one of the churches in Colossae. Can you believe it? A runaway slave, with no chance of forgiveness, became a bishop. That is what Christianity is all about. When you are in Christ, you become a new creation, and God gives you new opportunities for ministry and productivity. Our ministry does not end with leading someone to Christ. It also includes nurturing and reconciling people. May the good Lord bless us with these words as we go from this place—that we can be not only ministers but also reconcilers, bringing peace to broken relationships.
Amen.
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