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The old man is about to retire for the evening. Closely he clutches a collection of correspondence as he replaces the worn letter he had read back into the bundle. It is the most treasured possession that he owns. As he hits his knees, he shakes his head in wonder and amazement at what God had done in his life. Only God could have taken him from where once he was to where he is now. And his prayer is one of gratitude.

After all, he was a slave. He was one of the 30,000,000 faceless slaves inhabiting the Roman Empire with no rights, no life, no future. He was a good slave, a "useful" slave. So they named him "useful." Even his name was a derivative of his lowly state. Born into a life with no life, looking to no future. He was a nothing.

Possibly that is why this useful, even good, slave grew tired of being a good slave, stole money from his benevolent master, and ran away. Now, he was a fugitive, a criminal, a man with a price on his head. So, he ran and ran. Was it because the money too soon ran out or because he tired of running? He doesn't remember, now! He just remembers that he realized that life at the master's seemed not to be as bad. He wanted to go home to the only home he knew.

But what justice would he face if he did? Most runaway slaves were killed to discourage the ever-present threat of rebellion. At best, he could hope for the dreaded "F," for fugitive, to be branded upon his forehead and possibly a life in chains.

It was about that time that the runaway heard about an old missionary in prison at Rome. Or did he meet him when he was imprisoned? It had been so long, he had forgotten. But he remembered well that his master at Colossae was a religious man and knew the old missionary. Perhaps the old missionary would write a letter of intercession for him, asking for the best possible conditions, should he return. He just wanted a letter. But he received so much more. He received Christ. The old missionary, Paul, introduced the fugitive slave, Onesimus to Christ. The runaway asked for a second chance and serendipitously received a changed life. He then began to assist Paul in his ministry. They became very close.

But he knew well that he had to return. He must go back and face the music. He had stolen, wronged, and betrayed the kindness of his master. Justice must be served. It was only right. How could he, as a Christian, live with what he had done? Christians make right the wrongs! So, the old missionary, now a father in the faith, wrote a letter to his master, Philemon, the very letter that Onesimus, now held in his hand.

Did it work? We have the letter today as a testimony that it must have worked, or else it would have been discarded as worthless along with Onesimus as well.

It worked! This little letter, which was read in your presence, must have worked to change the lives of at least three individuals. How did he do it? How did Paul reconcile or bring back together two men who were separated by distance, betrayal, and misunderstanding? How was Paul able to stand in the gap and to be a channel through which reconciliation and restoration could flow? How can we?

First, I believe that Paul was able to do so because he was willing to get involved. The old missionary made an intentional commitment to take action, to be a part of the answer instead of part of the problem. He refused to believe that the situation was hopeless and did what he could to redeem the relationship. So, he wrote the letter. But before he wrote the letter, he prayed for Philemon. "I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints. I pray that you may be active in sharing your faith, so that you will have a full understanding of every good thing we have in Christ. Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the saints" (vv. 4-7 NIV).

Paul praised Philemon for his generosity and encouragement to the young church at Colossae. He prayed that Philemon would have the mind and spirit of Christ, being appreciative "of every good thing we have in Christ" (v. 6). Perhaps Paul perceived precisely that if any good would come about, God would have to do it. If any peace would be made, God would have to be the peacemaker.

Jim Wallis, in his excellent work, Faith Works, tells of an encounter he had with a gang member after the devastating riots in the Watts District of Los Angeles in 1992. Two rival gangs, the Crips and the Bloods, had just signed a shaky truce. One member of the Crips spoke to Wallis about how fragile the truce agreement would be. He stated, "We got some habits that only God can cure."1 Perhaps the young man spoke for all of us as well as for a slave and master of 2,000 years ago.

Paul was not only willing to become involved intentionally, he also was willing to pay the price for forgiveness and restoration. Paul was willing to give his time, show courage, exercise patience, and make a commitment to see the process through. The old soldier of the cross was willing to pay the price. Nowhere will peace ever be obtained unless someone is willing to pay the price. Paul was willing to pay the price.

Restoration, reconciliation, and forgiveness usually are first when initially someone gives up their "rights." Paul gave up his rights as an apostle. "Therefore, 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" (vv. 8-9a NIV). He could have insisted on his rights and pulled rank, but rather chose to appeal to Philemon on a higher basis, the basis of love. Paul properly perceived that if he had ordered Philemon to do so, he might have won the freedom of Onesimus, but could have easily lost the friendship of Philemon. Love usually seeks a win-win situation. The use of coercion and force can easily contribute to the problem instead of providing an answer.

Paul also was willing to take a risk. Peacemaking is not for sissies. Waging peace is just as demanding as waging war, if not more so. No one said that waging peace would be easy or without risk or sacrifice. I still vividly remember when President Bill Clinton brought Yassar Arafat and Issak Rabin together at the White House for that very significant peace agreement. I never shall forget the look on the Israeli Rabin's face when he reached across the President and shook the hand of the Palestinian Arafat. There was no smile on his face, only the solemn and stern expression as if he could not believe what he had actually just done. He had shaken hands with the enemy, the man probably responsible for the death of some of his loved ones or friends, certainly some of his countrymen. But he did what he did for a higher cause, one of peace over vengeance. And, as you know, he, too, paid a price for such a stand.

Paul, like Rabin and Arafat, did the difficult! Peace for Philemon was not easy. He had to forget his hurt and pride. He had to forgive. Peace for Onesimus was not easy. He had to return, face the music, clear the rubble, not knowing what the damage might have been or would be. Onesimus had to deal with his past if ever he was to have a future. Peace for Paul was not easy. He had to write the letter, call in an IOU from Philemon, and offer to pay any debt that Onesimus night owe (v. 18). Paul also had to do without the needed services of his "son" while he was away.

Now, Paul's motives were not purely unselfish. He desired to have Onesimus back to help him in the ministry (vv. 11, 13). Also, Paul's methods were not completely above reproach. In fact, Paul falls just a little short of spiritual blackmail in reminding Philemon of a previous debt, "not to mention that you owe me your very self" (v. 19), probably referring to the fact that he had won Philemon to Christ just as he had won Onesimus.

So, Paul's motives were not completely pure, nor his methods completely kosher, but still he did something. He took action. He got involved. He paid the price. He was willing to stand in the gap between two persons separated by harm and hurt. After September 11, we had over 3,800 heroes at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and aboard aircraft who stood in the gap and paid the price with their very lives, many intentionally. Their sacrifice united our country and reconciled our people as never before, at least in my lifetime. Their sacrifice has not been in vain.

Paul was able to bring together these two men because he was willing to try to break the "normal" cycle of hurt, harm, and retribution. Someone must be willing to break the cycle. You saw it on television and I saw it on television. I was horrified. From a helicopter view during the Los Angeles riots, two men dragged a truck driver from the cab of his truck and beat him over the head with a broken bottle and kicked his face until it was totally disfigured. A short time later Reginald Denny, the man who was beaten so severely, was in court against the people who had beaten him. His face was still swollen and misshapen. He was sitting in court with the defendants who had committed that horrible crime. They were all sitting there, sullen, hostile, no yielding whatsoever. Against the protest of his lawyers, Reginald Denny went across the courtroom to the mothers of those defendants, hugged them, and told them that he forgave their sons. One mother looked into his eyes and said, "I love you." Someone had to break the cycle.

Where are you in this drama? Do you identify with Philemon, the one who was wronged? Certainly every American feels wronged about the tragic events surrounding the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. How are you managing that hurt and anger? Do you identify with Onesimus, the one who committed the wrong? Certainly everyone of us is a sinner. Has our sin added to the evil of our world? Has our self-centeredness and extravagance as a nation added to the hatred and distrust of other nations for us? How are you managing that guilt, no matter how many times removed? Do you identify with Paul, the peacemaker who sought to be the channel through which God's grace of restoration could flow? Certainly, we all have the choice of whether we will seek to be a part of the answer or a part of the problem. How are we looking for ways to embody the One who "was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself?" (2 Corinthians 5:19).

Paul was willing to pay the price, give up his own rights, take a risk, do the difficult task of binding the gap to let God's reconciling grace flow through him. Are we?

The secret or key to the success of Paul's efforts was that he appeared to Philemon on the basis of a higher principle, the principle of love. "Yet I appeal to you on the basis of love ... Perhaps the reason he was separated from you for a little while was that you might have him back for good -- no longer as a slave, but better than a slave, as a dear brother. He is very dear to me but even dearer to you, both as a man and as a brother in the Lord" (vv. 9a, 15-16 NIV). Paul appealed to Philemon to take back Onesimus as a brother in the Lord and to welcome him back as he would Paul (v. 18). He asked Philemon to remember that what they now had in common, the indwelling Lord Jesus, was greater than anything they could have in difference. They were brothers in the Lord.

Yes, some type of justice had to be served. A wrong had been done. We are not sure how the two parties worked out this aspect of the continued relationship. Maybe, the justice was tempered with love.

This is where, I feel, many Christians are struggling today, with this issue of justice and Christian love. I know that I am. Justice has to be served. The ones responsible for the untold evil of the provoked attacks must be held responsible, held in check, or it could happen again, or worse. But justice also must be tempered with love. If we hate, we become no better than those who committed these senseless crimes. We must find a balance. Mercy without justice degenerates into permissiveness. Justice without mercy degenerates into cruelty. Neither does honor to our Lord.

My friend, Everett Kerr, told me of a program he watched where someone was leading a group of children in the talking out of their feelings about the events of September 11, 2001. As they were talking about praying for the victims and their families, one child raised his hand and stated, "We must pray for the families of the hijackers!" A hush fell upon the room.

We must seek a balance. We must temper our justice with mercy. We must try to see the bigger picture. The potential to do so and the power of love to be a part of the answer are in every Christian.

Someone must show courage to express love, even when it may be unpopular to do so. Bob Crawford was one of the finest Christians it has ever been my privilege to serve as pastor. Struck down by cancer in his forties, this courageous Christian exemplified unbelievable courage as he combated this dreaded disease and lived longer with his particular cancer than anyone in recorded medical history. Bob's courage taught us how to live and taught us how to die. It began early in his life.

After his funeral service, a lady came up to me and said, "My name is Regina Ward and I knew Bob in high school. In 1966 Bob and I were classmates at Rossville High School. There were 2,500 students there and I became 2,500 and one. I integrated Rossville High School in 1966." She said, "There were students there who called me names. There were students who shoved and pushed me, and there were students who shot spit wads at me. Bob Crawford, even then as a teenager, stood between me, shielded me from those taunts and jeers, and those students who pushed and shoved and hit me with spit wads." Bob Crawford lived the last years of his life with one foot in one world and one foot in another. Someone must attempt to break the cycle.

It was Easter Sunday, 1964. My girlfriend Sharlon and I were standing in the Sardis High School cafeteria about to serve an after-church dinner to raise money for our senior class trip, when an individual exploded through the door exclaiming, "Marcus and Pat have been killed!" Marcus and Pat Milam both had brothers in our senior class. Marcus had just returned home from fulfilling his military obligation upon the maiden voyage of The Enterprise. Pat, who had waited for him, married him, and had just found out that she was to have his baby. Marcus and Pat were on their way to Easter worship when a drunken driver who was driving on the wrong side of the road hit them head on, killing both of them and their unborn child. The drunken driver was hardly hurt.

The whole school, the whole community, was shaken. My father-in-law, Kress Davis, conducted the double funeral for Marcus and Pat. As the funeral party was about to leave Pat's parents' home for the church, my father-in-law asked the group to bow in prayer. It was then that James Mims, Pat's father, asked to lead the prayer. It was then that James Mims prayed for the man who took the lives of his daughter, his son-in-law, and his unborn grandchild. It was his prayer and the knowledge of it, more than any other single act, that helped to heal an entire community. It was truly amazing.

But it was no less amazing than the story of the old man, the one I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon, Onesimus, the runaway slave. Who would have believed that God would take the fugitive slave, a hunted man with a price on his head with definitely no future, and turn him into the bishop or pastor of one of the finest early New Testament churches? We have evidence that around 100 A.D. the pastor of the church at Ephesus was no less than a man named "useful" -- Onesimus, the very same. Pastor of the church at Ephesus! Was the church at Ephesus not where Timothy served? Was the church at Ephesus not where Mary, the mother of Jesus, worshiped? Was the church at Ephesus not where the beloved disciple John served? The great church at Ephesus called a runaway slave as its pastor?

Is that not why Onesimus collected and kept the letter to Philemon and others as well, the very first to do so? I mean that it was only the most important collection of letters in the history of the world. We sometimes fail to remember that Paul had almost been forgotten by the early church until the appearance of the work of the missionary-physician Luke called LukeActs around 80-90 A.D. Then, everyone wanted to know more about Paul, the great missionary to the Gentiles. And they turned to Onesimus, the bishop of Ephesus, the first to collect Paul's letters to places like Thessalonica, Corinth, Galatia, Rome, and yes, Ephesus. And there was one other letter that was included in the New Testament canon. But it was not a letter to a congregation. It was a letter of one man to another man seeking reconciliation with his runaway slave. It was the little letter that changed Onesimus' life and, in some ways, the life of the Christian church. It is the letter you hold in your hand today, the letter to Philemon. What a debt we owe to Onesimus.

For Jesus said "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God" (Matthew 5:9).

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1. James Wallis, Faith Works (New York: Random House, 2000), p. 214.