Set Free

" I, Paul, an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus, urge you [Philemon], on behalf of my child Onesimus, whose father I have become in my imprisonment; I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I should have liked to retain him for myself, so that he might serve me on our behalf in my imprisonment for the gospel, but I did to want to do anything without your consent, so that the good you do might not be forced but voluntary. Perhaps this is why he was away from you for awhile, that you might have him back forever, no longer a slave but more than a slave, a brother, beloved especially to me, but even more so to you, as a man and in the Lord. So, if you regard me as a partner, welcome him as you would me." --[Philemon 9-10, 12-17].


This Scripture is in the form of a letter from Paul to a wealthy friend, Philemon,  a convert to Christianity under Paul's preaching. Onesimus, a slave belonging to Philemon, had apparently stolen from his master, and then run away to Rome.

Onesimus met Paul in Rome, where Paul was under house arrest "in imprisonment for the Gospel."  From Onesimus' ministry to Paul, came the slave's Conversion; and ultimately his Freedom in Christ.

Many have written that Paul implicitly sanctions Roman slavery, by sending Onesimus back to his master. Others have even suggested that Paul's letter to Philemon is a clear justification for slavery.

But, NOTHING could be further from the Truth! Paul tells Philemon quite clearly that Onesimus is  "[his] own heart"; that Onesimus is his own child;  that he is Onesimus' 'father'; that Onesimus "is no longer a slave, but a brother, beyond beloved especially to me."  In closing, Paul exhorts Philemon to "welcome him as you would me."

This passage shows me that, clearly, going from slavery to Freedom is not an all-at-once, instantaneous, lightning-bolt moment. No, it is a journey -- a long walk of trauma, struggles, and hope following-- sometimes wanely --on the heels of despair. And, it is a journey of Conversion, as we tread closer and closer to God.

In her new book, "Troubled Refuge: Struggling For Freedom in the Civil War", Chandra Manning writes about how, during the Civil War, slaves would run away from their former Confederate masters, to Union military camps. In so-called Contraband Camps (under the Confiscation Acts of 1861-2), former slaves were declared the contraband property of the Confederacy, and thereby freed to the Union.

But, as reviewer Mark Smith [ History Professor, U. of South Carolina] writes, in the Contraband Camps, those freed were "leaving slavery and becoming something other than 'unfree' ". --[WSJ, 8/27-8, 2016]. Smith writes, "How complicated was the destruction of slavery and how circuitous the path to freedom."

The former slaves did not know what it was to be free-- they had to learn it. As Harriet Tubman said, "I grew up like a neglected weed -- ignorant of liberty, having no experience of it."

I grew up like that, walling myself off from the abuses and cruelties in my childhood home. By the time I was five, I was in survival mode, and in the habit of raising myself up -- putting myself down for naps and finding food on my own. My family was by turns neglectful and rejecting; but then, at times so controlling that I had no choice as to what color to wear, what courses to take in school, how to wear my hair, what friends to be with, what job to accept and so forth.

I took to performing extra chores and extra acts of kindness for my family-- weeding my mother's garden, knitting my sibling a sweater,  sewing my father a new tie, or doing some painting around the house, all as a child. But, this was not a free kind of Love, since I performed these kind acts out of Fear. Could I "buy" my family's Love, or at least be left unharmed by them, if I did these things?

As I grew into adulthood, I did what Onesimus did, I "ran away". I saw my family only for holidays. I finished school, got married, became a mother, built my own life in another state.

One spring day, when I was an adult, my father woke up, had a cup of coffee and suddenly perished. When I received that phone call, I knew instantly that I would be confronted once again with my relationship with my family-- which I had never resolved.

When I went to my church to pray, I realized that confronting my frail, overwhelmed mother, whom I still feared, but who needed me so desperately back in her life -- would be a monumental task. One I could never tackle alone.

And so, dear friends, I converted. And yes, I did take my mother back, despite all that had gone on between us for my entire life.

I think that my mother could never quite believe it. She thanked me every day. She was amazed at my Love and kindness to her. I saw her almost every day, until the day she died.

As for me, I was performing these acts of Love -- finally -- out of Freedom. I was no longer bound to her as a scared child, as her puppet or her slave. It had taken my Conversion for me to see that I could Love out of Joy, not out of constricted bonds. I had become a daughter of God.  My Love was freely given.

I am still learning what it is to be Free. I no longer have to worry about where I am going to find food. I am safe in my bed. I try to wear color more often, instead of the more reticent black and gray which I usually wear as a sort of armor. Sometimes, I am startled when someone notices me and says hello -- it is still feels safer to believe that I am invisible. If someone tells me that she missed me or she loves me, I am trying to trust the Truth in that. I am developing my own opinions and am finding my voice to speak them, even if these beliefs are not always too popular.

Out of ignorance of Liberty, I am learning what it is to be Free!

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