There is a beautiful story in the New Testament.
At the end of Paul’s letters, before the Epistle to the Hebrews, hidden in a page of a single chapter, is the letter written to Philemon—bishop of the church of Colossae and Paul’s fellow worker—dated around 63 A.D.
In it, the story of a runaway slave named Onesimus can be glimpsed.
This Onesimus, whose name means “useful,” had fled Philemon’s house, probably taking some goods or money with him.
The condition of the slaves in those days was very difficult, and it was completely different from the position of the other servants of the house.
We do not know the reasons for the flight and the theft, but the fact is that this Onesimus, in his run, happened to be in Rome, where Paul, the Apostle, was being held in prison at that time.
In ways that only God can prepare, Onesimus met Paul and was converted to Jesus. Such was Paul’s impact on the life of this runaway slave that Onesimus decided to stay with him to help him during his days of captivity.
Both must have been greatly surprised when confiding in each other, they discovered that they had an acquaintance in common: Philemon.
Paul would have preferred to keep Onesimus with him because of the valuable help he gave him while he was in chains, and Onesimus was probably very afraid to return to the house from which he had fled and caused harm.
We must understand that Philemon knew nothing of this story until he saw the escaped slave arrive before him, who handed him a letter from their pastor, Paul.
In this brief letter, Paul explains Onesimus’s conversion to him and begs him (even though, by apostolic authority, he could command him) to welcome him again, but no longer as a “useless” slave but as a “useful” brother of both.
What Paul was asking of Philemon was completely above the customs and traditions of that time, for it was inconceivable that a runaway slave, returning to his master’s house, should come to be regarded as being on the same level as him.
And Paul, to make him understand the strength of his request, and the importance of this grand gesture of forgiveness and fraternal love that went beyond common thought, exposes himself with a strong illustration of responsibility, personally vouching for the one he had led to repentance: “If, then, you consider me in communion with you, accept him as myself. If he has wronged you or owes you something, charge it to me… I’ll pay; lest I tell thee that thou art indebted to me even for thyself.”2
He’s basically saying to him, “If you have any difficulty in accepting what I’m asking of you, even if I don’t want to remind you of what I did for you in my time, if you think there’s any merit in me, acknowledge it in his favor, and if there’s any demerit in him, acknowledge it or charge it to me, and I will personally pay what you think is right.”
So far, this is what is reported to us in the Bible.
The history of the First Church, however, still speaks to us of Onesimus.
About fifty years after Paul wrote this letter, a holy man, known to us as one of the greatest martyrs of the Church, named Ignatius, on his way from Antioch to Rome to be subjected to the sentence of death, wrote several letters that were delivered to his friends and brothers along the way.
In one of these letters, he speaks of the spiritual greatness of a certain bishop of Ephesus (a city more than a hundred kilometers from Colossae), named Onesimus.
Just that fugitive ex-slave.
He wrote of him, among other things, “Onesimus is ‘Onesimus’ in name and character.”
He used the same way of expressing himself that Paul had used in writing to Philemon.
What Paul had sown in the heart of this rebellious slave and fugitive convert to Jesus, the fraternal welcome and example of his former master (who, among other things, ended his life with martyrdom for his faith in Jesus), had pushed Onesimus to grow strongly before God, to the point of being used by Him in the position of pastor of souls in Ephesus.
Onesimus had initially been neither loyal nor useful, but then he repented and allowed himself to be transformed by God’s love, so he was given a second chance, which he took gloriously.
© A Man Had Two Sons, by Andrew Viel
