I exhort thee for *my* child, whom I have begotten in [my] bonds, Onesimus,
Paul writes from prison for a runaway slave who had wronged his owner. He does not open with the man's crime. He opens with a family word: this man is his child, and Philemon must now decide what to do with him.
Onesimus had done real damage before he disappeared, and no one in the ancient world would have expected mercy for him.
He had deserted his excellent master, and had probably cheated him as well (verse 18). Even the worst master would have punished such an act with the greatest severity. We may be sure Onesimus had no good reason for leaving Philemon. He proved himself a worthless man who could not value goodness. But what is too hard for the Lord? He led him into Paul's path, converted him, and turned his heart and his steps back to his master.
Older translations read "whom I have begotten in my bonds." That is birth language. It describes what happens to a person who believes the gospel.
Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel" (1 Cor. 4:15). Of Onesimus he says, "whose father I became in my imprisonment" (Philemon 10). This means he had been the means of their conversion, for the Christian is born of God (1 John 5:18; 1 Peter 1:3).
So Paul can speak as if the new birth were his own work. The credit belongs elsewhere.
In one place Scripture says that God "bore witness to the word of His grace." In another, an apostle speaks by the same Spirit of a man whose father he had become while in chains, as if he himself had brought about the man's conversion. This shows how gracious God is. He owns the part we play, and He makes much of our little service and faithfulness. Yet we can truly add, "Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Your name give glory."
Paul also says where this birth happened. That detail is aimed straight at Philemon's affections.
So he writes, "I, Paul, an old man and now a prisoner also for Christ Jesus, appeal to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I became" — and not only that, but "in my imprisonment." That would make Onesimus a special object of interest and affection to a man who honoured and delighted in the apostle. If Philemon loved Paul, he would love Paul's child; and Onesimus was his child. Paul calls him his child as emphatically as he ever called Titus or Timothy. But he was a son born as neither Timothy nor Titus was — born while Paul was in chains.
Paul had the right to command. He chose to plead instead, and God Himself deals with people that way.
What has God done! We may well say this when we see the Lord God Almighty, the High and Holy One, presenting Himself to us in such a way that He pleads with us. "We are ambassadors for Christ, God making His appeal through us." … This is the grace Paul would bear witness to. He could have commanded, and yet for love's sake he chose to plead. He pleaded for his son Onesimus, whose father he had become while in chains. Had Philemon listened to the ministry of reconciliation, and received the Son of God into his soul? Then let him, as one reconciled to God Himself, exercise that same grace towards Onesimus.
The slave is coming home. But he is no longer just property, and Paul expects Philemon to feel the difference.
The return of his runaway slave was likely to stir up something in Philemon's natural heart. So the apostle steps in with his letter on behalf of his dear child in the faith, born during his captivity. God had already stepped in with the work of His grace. That grace ought to act on Philemon's heart, producing altogether new relationships with Onesimus. The apostle begs him to receive his former slave as a brother.
The feelings in this appeal are Paul's own. They also show something beyond him.
This is not only a beautiful picture of spiritual affections — of the unbreakable ties between Christians, and especially between a servant of God and the converts given to his ministry. It is also a striking picture of the heart of Christ for His own. Yes, these are Paul's feelings, Paul's tender love, Paul's pleading; but in all of them he was only the vessel of Christ.
- Fled — Onesimus ran from his master and probably robbed him first. No one expected mercy for such a man. But nothing was too hard for the Lord, who steered him into Paul's path.
- Fathered — "Whose father I became" is birth language. Paul was the means of the conversion. God gives the new birth, and He still credits His servant with the work.
- Fettered — Paul names where that birth happened: his chains. A son born in Paul's prison had a claim on anyone who loved Paul.
- Favour — Paul could have commanded. He chose to plead, as God pleads with people through His messengers. A man who has received such grace should now pass it on.
- Family — Grace made new relationships. The runaway comes back not as property but as a brother. The tenderness of the appeal is the heart of Christ working through His servant.
once unserviceable to thee, but now serviceable to thee and to me
Paul has just called Onesimus his own child in the faith. Now he admits the man's past failure, and turns his very name into the reason for taking him back. (The commentators below use older translations, which read "unprofitable" and "profitable" where the ESV reads "useless" and "useful.")
Onesimus was a slave's name, and it carried a meaning his life had contradicted. Paul builds the whole appeal on that gap, and returns to it later in the letter:
Twice in this letter Paul uses a play on words about the name Onesimus, which means "profitable." But Onesimus had not honoured his name. He fled from his master Philemon and perhaps even stole something. Onesimus had gone through a radical change. The apostle points to this in verse 11, with the words "unprofitable" and "profitable" (Greek: achrestos – euchrestos). In verse 20 he speaks to Philemon directly when he says "I would have profit of you."
One writer notes why such names existed at all — and why this one had become a lie:
Onesimus is a slave's name meaning "useful." Some slaves were just numbered 2, 3, 4. But others had descriptions to help sell them in the market. In time past Onesimus could not be true to his name. He was useless; a waster. "But now" marks the change. He is a testimony to the power of the gospel of the grace of God, which alone can bring about such a conversion.
Paul does not soften the record to win the case. He states the failure, then points to the one thing that answers it:
He speaks so tenderly on behalf of Onesimus. Yet he still admits how completely unsatisfactory the man's conduct had been in the past: "Onesimus, that was once to you unprofitable, but now both to you and to me profitable." He had found the Lord. God had brought him to Himself, and he was God's child, not only Paul's. What more could Philemon ask as a guarantee that he would be of use?
Onesimus now belongs to the Lord, and that is what makes his name fit at last:
Onesimus (which means "profitable"), he writes, had once been unprofitable to his master — most likely even before he ran away from him. But he is now the Lord's, and a dear brother in the Lord. So he would now be a real Onesimus — that is, profitable for his master.
Another writer sets the two ends of that change side by side:
A miserable, unprofitable slave, a runaway thief, had become a child of God, born again. The loving servant of the Lord presses him to his heart, calls him "my child," and speaks of him as now profitable to him and to Philemon. Oh, the wonders of divine grace!
The word "unprofitable" does not only describe the slave. It raises a question about the master too:
"Which in time past was to you unprofitable, but now profitable to you and to me" — and what had Philemon been in time past to God? He was foolish and disobedient, serving many lusts and pleasures. But the knowledge of the love of God in his own soul had now made him a useful servant of the Lord.
Kelly weighs what Philemon might feel against what a Christian is here to do:
If he thought of himself as an injured master, and thought of the ingratitude and every other wrong of Onesimus, irritation might be natural, and justice and a warning might be pleaded. Yet the apostle's words were bound to remind Philemon of the grace that is in Christ Jesus. Was he to be in tune with Christ, or out of tune with Him? The Christian is here to reflect Christ. That is to be his daily walk, his greatest business.
What happened to this one runaway is the pattern for everyone born again:
There were unusual features about the conversion of Onesimus. But what marked him at his conversion also marks everyone who is born again. He receives the divine nature. The one who once lived for himself and for this world now lives for the will and pleasure of God, who has done so much for him. So even the youngest, who have come to know God and to trust the Saviour, have the assurance from this Scripture that they can be profitable to God, serving Him wherever He has set them.
- Named. Onesimus means "profitable." His running away turned his own name into a charge against him.
- Useless. Paul admits the failure instead of hiding it. Grace here never pretends the wrong did not happen.
- Changed. "But now" is the hinge. God brought him to Himself and made him His child, so the man became what his name always said.
- Doubled. The profit runs two ways — to Paul, and to the master he had robbed. The change proves itself where he had failed.
- Yours. Philemon had once been unprofitable to God too, and so has every reader. The same grace that made this slave useful can make anyone useful, however young in faith.
whom I have sent back to thee [but do *thou* receive] him, that is, *my* bowels
Onesimus, a runaway slave, had wronged his master Philemon, and now he is on his way back home. In one short sentence Paul both restores a master's rights and tells him what it costs to hand Onesimus over.
Paul sends Onesimus back to his owner, and he does not bargain for terms first. The words he uses for the man he sends are the warmest he has.
The apostle had not forgotten the master's legal claim over his slave: "Whom I send back to you." Our way of speaking can hardly bear "I sent"; in verse 19 we must say, "I write." It is the epistolary aorist, as it is called: the writer speaks from the time when his letter will be read. So Philemon got his rights back. Onesimus returned to his master; the apostle sent him back. He did not write a letter to secure terms for the slave beforehand, nor to make a bargain with the master. Such a bargain could hardly fit the law. It fits the grace and truth that came by Jesus Christ even less. He sends Onesimus back "in person, that is, mine own bowels," or my very heart! Is not this the mind of heaven?
Older translations keep the Greek word for the inward parts — "mine own bowels" — where the ESV reads "my very heart."
Sending Onesimus cost Paul something, and he says plainly what he is after.
Paul discloses the purpose of his letter. It would cost him to send the runaway back. "My very heart" tells us of the deep inner feelings that the wrench would cause. The apostle doesn't stop there but goes on to show how he would dearly have liked to retain Onesimus. His return was very costly to the lonely Roman prisoner, but Paul does not keep him. … Paul knows that this is not just a matter of getting a wayward slave back to his legal master. It is a matter of having a brother received and trust established.
Philemon had real grounds for anger. Paul writes nothing that would feed it.
Onesimus seems to have been guilty of two things. He had run away from his master, and he had also cheated him. As others have noticed, the apostle treats all this with great delicacy! If he refers to the running away, he calls it departing. Writing about his dishonest conduct, Paul offers to repay what is owed. But he does not drop a single word that could feed resentment in Philemon's heart. At the same time he fully upholds the master's rights. That would give Philemon the chance to show the grace in his heart.
Paul's whole request comes down to two words.
In the first place, Paul's word about Onesimus is, "receive him" (verse 12). He was not to be ignored, and much less to be rejected, but to be received. How fully and really has God received us who have believed.
Paul does more than send Onesimus back: he puts himself in the slave's place. Commentators see in this a picture of what Christ has done for us.
Notice how fully Paul identifies himself with his convert. "Receive him," he says, "that is, my very heart." Again, "If you count me a partner, receive him as myself." Once more, "If he has wronged you, or owes you anything, put that on my account. I, Paul, have written this with my own hand. I will repay it." Christ has "repaid" what we owed to God — and how much more! He charged Himself with the whole of our responsibility. And He has given us, in association with Himself, His own place and relationship with the Father, so that we are received as Himself.
Once Paul has said this, Philemon can no longer treat the returning man as a minor domestic problem.
Now Philemon had to show what was really in his heart, and how simple his faith was. … The apostle says of Onesimus, He is my very heart. Could Philemon treat such a man as unimportant? … If the gospel is true, then there was no difference between people in sin, and there is no difference in the great salvation. Onesimus, Philemon and Paul are blessed alike, and blessed perfectly.
- Sent. Paul does not bargain and does not keep the man he needs. He sends Onesimus back and leaves Philemon's rights untouched.
- Costly. "My very heart" is the language of a wrench — the lonely prisoner gives away the one who served him.
- Named. Paul calls the slave his own heart. To receive Onesimus is now to receive Paul.
- Received. Paul asks one thing: receive him. Not ignored, not rejected, but welcomed as a brother — just as God receives those who believe.
- Mirrored. Paul mirrors Christ. Christ took our whole debt on Himself and gives us His own place with the Father, so we are received as He is.
whom *I* was desirous of keeping with myself, that for thee he might minister to me in the bonds of the glad tidings;
Paul writes from prison about Onesimus, a runaway slave who found faith through him and is going back to his owner, Philemon. Here Paul admits he wanted to keep the man, and then gives the wish up.
Onesimus had become useful to Paul in prison. Paul counts his service as Philemon's own, given "on your behalf":
He lets Philemon know that Onesimus had made himself so dear that he was as dear to him as his own heart. He would have liked to keep him at his side in Rome. There Onesimus would have done for Paul every service that Philemon would have done, if Philemon had been in Rome.
What Paul wanted and what Paul decided were two different things:
In Philemon 13 the apostle "would have" kept Onesimus with him: he was desirous of it. But without Philemon's mind he "willed to do nothing."
Paul was content in his chains, and he speaks of bonds of another kind too. One writer traces them back to Christ:
He was content to be in bonds, because he was the Lord's prisoner. In the same way, he was glad to recognise the bonds that made Philemon one with him for ever. Speaking of Onesimus, he says he would have kept him with him, "in the bonds of the gospel." Here is the very mind of Christ. Christ was content to suffer alone, and for us. He called no one in to share all that He had to do in atonement. No one could have stood with Him in that. And what was it all for? That we might be united to Him in eternal bonds. The present purpose of this union is to serve Him in His people, and to confess Him in the world that has shut Him out.
Paul had real need of Onesimus. He sent him back anyway:
The fine feeling and the sense of what is proper that grace forms are truly beautiful. Nothing upholds what is right so much as grace. It gives up what is owed to itself, and it upholds what is owed to others! This is of the greatest importance for our souls to heed. The opposite, sadly, is what usually appears. A person abuses grace by humbling another. The use of grace is to humble yourself, and to show all godly respect to everyone else in your place.
Paul never argues about whether Philemon has a right to own a man. He works on the owner's heart instead:
Slavery was always contrary to God's thoughts. Even so, Paul does not ignore Philemon's position as master over his slave. He sends him back, even though he could have used him for spiritual profit himself, as verse 13 shows... Christianity makes no effort to put right the bad social order of the world. It does not try to fix the world's politics or its economy either. But it does speak in earnest to the heart and conscience of the believer. The aim is that he may gladly and willingly honour God in every relationship he is in. Laws will not change men's hearts. But changed hearts show themselves in changed personal conduct.
Paul could have kept Onesimus and left Philemon to accept it. He would not force a kindness:
Love is of God, but it is always holy and always free. So Paul, speaking for Onesimus, took great care. He wanted everything to flow through Philemon's heart, by the working of the Spirit, to Christ's honour. His grace had shone out in the slave. Could Paul look for anything else in the master? He had real need as a prisoner for Christ, and he valued the service of love. Even so, he looks for it from Philemon just as much as from Onesimus.
- Wish — Paul desired to keep Onesimus, but he willed to do nothing without Philemon's consent.
- Place — kept at Paul's side, Onesimus would have given the service Philemon would have given in person.
- Bonds — Paul's chains became a place of shared service. Christ suffered alone so that we could be joined to Him for ever.
- Right — grace gives up what it is owed and defends what others are owed. It humbles the one who has it, not the one who receives it.
- Free — a forced kindness counts for nothing. The good had to come from Philemon's own heart, since grace had already done its work in his slave.
but I have wished to do nothing without thy mind, that thy good might not be as of necessity but of willingness
Paul is writing to Philemon about Onesimus, a runaway slave who has come to faith while Paul is in prison. Paul would like to keep him, but he sends him back, because he will not take what Philemon has not given willingly.
Paul had every reason to keep Onesimus, and would likely have got his way if he asked.
He greatly wanted to keep Onesimus with him. He was an old man, he was in prison, though still able to serve the Lord in the gospel and in other ministry. For those reasons, and for personal reasons too, he would have valued the help of a younger man. Suppose Paul had decided to keep Onesimus. Philemon would have heard of Paul's circumstances, and would no doubt have agreed to his wish. He would have weighed Paul's need, and remembered too that Paul was an apostle. But no! That would not have been righteous. That would not have been a brotherly way to treat Philemon. Philemon needed the chance to show his own spirit of love and grace, and to show it not because he had to, but willingly. The Lord deals with us the same way. He delights when our response to Him is willing.
The phrase is simple. It carries no hint of distance between the two men.
First, "without your consent," Philemon 14. Here there was no question of drawing a line of separation. It simply means he would not act apart from Philemon.
If Paul had kept Onesimus and told Philemon later, Philemon could only agree to something already settled.
He would have liked to keep Onesimus at his side in Rome. Onesimus would have done for Paul all that Philemon himself would have done, had Philemon been there. But without Philemon's consent Paul would do nothing. That way his action would not be forced by what Paul had done; it would be voluntary.
Paul had already seen grace work in the slave. He waits for it to work in the master too.
Love is of God, but it is always holy and always free. So Paul took care that everything should flow through Philemon's heart, moved by the Spirit, to Christ's honour. His grace had been magnified in the slave: could he look for anything else in the master?
People often use grace as a lever against others. Grace works the other way.
Grace forms a delicate feeling and a sense of what is fitting, and both are exquisite. Nothing upholds what is right so much as grace. While it gives up its own dues, it upholds the dues of others! This matters greatly for our souls. Sadly, the opposite is what we usually see. A person abuses grace by using it to humble someone else. The use of grace is to humble oneself, and to show all godly respect to everyone else in our place.
The same principle reaches our own obedience to God.
How deeply that soul must have known fellowship with Christ, to be able to say "not by compulsion"! And how little we know of His grace when we put our obedience on the ground of duty, instead of seeing it as the unfolding of the life within us. Paul knew that Philemon had this life in union with Christ. That is the life he sought to stir into action. Then obedience would be willing, natural, and easy.
Paul leaves Onesimus's future in Philemon's hands. That is how Christianity works on the world at large.
Christianity makes no effort to fix the bad social structure of the world. It makes no effort to fix its political or economic structure either. But it does speak seriously to the heart and conscience of the believer. He can then honour God willingly and gladly in every relationship he stands in. Laws will not change men's hearts. But changed hearts show themselves in changed conduct.
- Authority held back. Paul had the standing and the need to keep Onesimus. Taking him without asking would not have been righteous or brotherly.
- Consent required. "Without your consent" means Paul would not act apart from Philemon. The decision stayed with the man it belonged to.
- Freedom guarded. A good deed arranged in advance would be forced. Paul leaves it unarranged, so love stays free.
- Grace measured. Grace gives up its own dues while upholding the dues of others; it humbles the one who has it, not the one it is aimed at.
- Willingness produced. Obedience as bare duty is a burden. Obedience flowing from the life within is willing, natural and easy. Changed hearts, not pressure, change conduct.
for perhaps for this reason he has been separated [from thee] for a time, that thou mightest possess him fully for ever;
A runaway slave fled his master, met Paul in prison, and became a believer. Now Paul explains that flight to the man it robbed: a short loss may have won a lasting gain.
Paul does not claim to know God's purpose. He suggests it, and even his choice of verb refuses to point a finger.
This is how the apostle could interpret the otherwise shameful escape of Onesimus. Yet he adds a delicate "perhaps," hoping to carry Philemon along with him. Some of us know how brutal Roman or Greek masters could be in such cases. That cruelty has not been limited to those places and times. But the Christian may and ought to see things in the light and love and interests of Christ. So he does not even say that Onesimus departed. He says he "was parted from you for a while, that you might have him back forever" — that Philemon might have him in full. The Christian tie is not temporary but everlasting.
The loss was real, but it was short. What Paul sets against it is a gain that outlasts everything, including death.
Paul's appeal goes on. He suggests that God used the events around the slave's running away for His own purposes. It appears God's providence led Onesimus to Rome. If we look only at the present situation, we may fail to see that God is ordering the very circumstance that seems to work against us. If Onesimus had never deserted his post, then Philemon's gain would have been only passing. An unconverted man has no lasting link with a Christian. But the voice of God had reached him and touched his conscience, and the pagan slave had turned to Christ. The reunion would be one that would never end; not even death could touch it.
Saying God used the wrong is not the same as saying the wrong was small. The careful wording of the verse guards that line.
No one knew better than the apostle that where sin had abounded, grace had super-abounded. But there seems a holy caution in the Spirit while speaking of these things, in case we should think or speak of sin lightly. The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth, and while He delights to magnify the grace of God in Christ, He always upholds God's holy hatred of sin. Sadly, how often we find that familiarity with the doctrines of grace, where there is no deep work in the soul, leads to light thoughts of sin! What holy caution there is in the words of this verse! The letter hints that Onesimus had wronged Philemon. He had robbed or stolen from him, and then run away. Could God justify dishonesty and fraud? No, for no unrighteous person will inherit the kingdom of God. His dishonesty led him to Rome, led him to Paul, and led him to hear the gospel. But that did not change the character of the sin in the least.
The word translated "forever" is the Greek aionion. The contrast with "for a while" sets its force.
The word aionios does not mean a limited period of time. It means eternal in the plain sense of the word. In Philemon 15, "that you might have him back forever" is aionion, eternally — again set against "for a while."
Commentators differ on how far to press it in this verse. Some read it as the ordinary way anyone speaks of a permanent gift:
When a person says to his friend, "I give you this book, it is yours for ever," he simply means he does not intend to ask for the book back again as long as it exists. But would the friend be in any doubt about what "for ever" means? We believe not. Or when Paul, writing to Philemon about the runaway slave Onesimus, says, "For this perhaps is why he was parted from you for a while, that you might have him back forever," will the meaning of "for ever," applied to a relationship that in any case ended with this earthly life, present any difficulty to the unprejudiced reader? Certainly not.
The question is not only how long the two men stay together. It is what now holds them, and God holds us in the same way.
In the second place, the word was, "receive him for ever." Formerly the relations between Onesimus and his master were of a sort that could be broken, and in fact were broken by the misconduct of Onesimus. Now there were to be new relations of an order that could not be broken. It is just so in God's gracious dealings with us. As the fruit of Christ's work, we stand before Him in relations that are unfailing and eternal.
- A while — Paul treats the desertion as a short parting, not a permanent escape. He will not even say Onesimus "departed," only that he "was parted."
- A perhaps — Paul offers God's purpose as a suggestion, not a certainty. He wants to carry Philemon's heart with him, not override it.
- No excuse — God's hand in the wrong never makes the wrong smaller. His theft led Onesimus to Rome and to the gospel, and it was theft still.
- Forever — the word means eternal, and here it stands against "for a while." The master-and-slave tie would end; brotherhood in Christ does not.
- Unbreakable — the old tie could break, and it did. The new one cannot, and that is how God has received us through Christ's work.
not any longer as a bondman, but above a bondman, a beloved brother, specially to me, and how much rather to thee, both in [the] flesh and in [the] Lord?
Paul writes to a slave-owner about a runaway. The man has since become a Christian, and Paul asks Philemon to take him back on a new footing. The verse turns on two small words — "no longer" and "more than." What happens to an ordinary relationship when both people belong to Christ?
Onesimus did not stop being a slave. But being a slave stopped being the whole account of him. One writer traces this new standing back to what Christ Himself became:
Suppose Onesimus had served as faithfully as could be, and had never once run away. Even then, a pagan could have no link with a Christian beyond the things that perish. But in the wonderful grace of God, the poor pagan slave heard the voice of Christ while he was away from the household he belonged to. He returned, so that Philemon might have him as never before. He came back no longer as a bondman — though a bondman he was, and he would be the last to dispute the fact — but above a bondman. This came through the Son of God, who became a bondman to make him His freedman.
Pardon for the crime would have been mercy enough. One writer shows what grace adds on top of it:
Philemon had lost a slave but in return he receives more than a slave, he receives a brother in the Lord... This is the wonder of God's grace. Pardon for crimes of the deepest kind — would that not have answered our great need? But grace does not give that alone, and we are lifted up to be brothers. He is not ashamed to call us brothers.
The last phrase of the verse joins two things we keep apart. The new bond does not cancel the old one:
A beloved brother, says the apostle, "especially to me" — more than to anyone else outside Philemon. The tie was close and very dear to Paul, who had brought him to faith, and who was in prison himself. Yet he adds, "but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord." Philemon had known him day by day and stood in a close relationship with him. The apostle still recognises that old tie ("in the flesh"). At the same time he asserts a new one ("in the Lord"), and it can never grow old.
Another writer draws out what that phrase covers:
Paul calls Onesimus a beloved brother "both in the flesh and in the Lord" (Philemon 16). That is a striking phrase. It covers what we call everyday life as well as the interests of the Lord.
The outward situation stays where it was. Neither man may use the new relationship as leverage:
God has given us a new and eternal relationship. It has not pleased Him to change our outward conditions while we are in the world... Paul remains an apostle, high in the church. Philemon remains a master, and Onesimus a slave, though God had made them one in Christ Jesus... Onesimus was a brother, an heir of God and joint-heir of Christ. Even so, it would not have been grace in him to say he was no longer a slave. And it would not have been grace in Philemon, his master, to refuse to acknowledge Onesimus as a brother.
That leaves one question: how do the chains ever come off? One writer answers it:
Paul lays here a broad and deep foundation for a new relation between master and servant. One is still under the other. Yet both must acknowledge a common brotherhood, and both must keep an equality before God. Christianity would melt the chains from the enslaved by the warmth of its love. Men's usual method is to strike them off by armed revolution.
Paul never calls Onesimus a runaway. He puts his own affection first, and that draws Philemon instead of pushing him:
How delicately he expresses it all! He does not speak of Onesimus as having run away, as trying to escape forever from serfdom, but that "he departed for a season."... Paul was asking Philemon to receive his runaway slave as a beloved brother. So that Philemon might not take offence, Paul tells him that Onesimus is a beloved brother especially to himself — and then how much more to Philemon, who had a claim on him.
- Cause. The Son of God became a bondman Himself. That is why a slave is now "more than a bondservant."
- Gift. Grace does not stop at pardon — it raises Onesimus to be a brother, beloved.
- Reach. The new tie runs through both worlds at once: "in the flesh" in Philemon's house, "in the Lord" in a relationship that never grows old.
- Restraint. Onesimus may not demand brotherhood as a right. Philemon may not deny it as a master. Grace melts chains by love, not by revolution.
- Result. Philemon loses a slave for a season and gains a brother forever — the better bargain by far.