Onesimus and the Cost of Running
Mark 2:13-17
Only the torch light of the guard leading me down a short passageway lit the door to the ship’s brig. I soon understood why. In darkness hatched plans for escape died for lack of light. The small door had barely opened before the guard had shoved me roughly forward. Tumbling headlong into blackness, I landed on men. The door slammed shut above me, sealing us in darkness.
Deep in the bowels of the ship men groaned and became sick, others cursed their ill luck. Only the remarks of one or two identified nationalities. Most spoke in tongues foreign to my ears. If the young woman had expected me to find a welcoming audience aboard the Asklepia she greatly misjudged the temperament of her crew and captain. Running always comes at a price and my attempts to flee Saul and Barnabas in order to return home had placed me great danger.
The Cost of Running“Our gods will not stand for this captivity we suffer,” said a voice—though from which direction I could not tell.
A heavy dampness clung to my skin. The stench of unwashed men and their foul sickness from the rocking of the ship caused me to take short, quick breathes. Here and there one or another muttered curses or a groan.
“Perhaps our gods are asleep,” another replied.
“Or indisposed,” said a third.
I did not dare suggest to those around me that there was but one God, the Creator of the Heavens and Earth and all within and under.
Another voice, this one more calm and closer than the others, asked, “How did you come to be aboard?”
When I did not respond, a sharp and hard blow jarred the back of my shoulder.
“Onesimus asked you a question.”
“I, ah, am . . . ” I considered explaining all that had happened to lead me to the ship’s brig, but given the foul mood of those around me—and unable to see any of their faces—I thought it best to keep to the explanation the young woman has presented me. “I have, um, an important message for the owner of this ship.”
“As do I,” growled the man next to me.
“And me.”
“Perhaps your message was meant for more than one who holds us captive, yes? Perhaps it might also be for the captives themselves?”
While I considered the question, a swift and jarring blow to the back of my shoulder sent me pitching forward. “Onesimus is speaking to you.”
Unable to make out the faces of those around me I was terrified and wished for some weapon in my hands. But all I could do was remain still and hope the rough crowd pressing in around me would not treat me as the mob had wished outside the prison . . . or worse.
“‘Follow me,'” I said. “That is the message. Those are the words of the Teacher. Our Lord desires that all follow him.”
“What an odd command.”
The touch of the man’s hand resting on my shoulder left me startled.
“I am Onesimus, a bond servant Philemon of Colossae. Or was until I sought to secure my freedom on my own. Who is this person who seeks admirers? Well I have known others who sought to gather a following. All proved to be frauds who wished to fill their purses with silver and gold.”
“Jesus of Nazareth,” I replied. “The day he gave his invitation for others to follow, a Roman tax collector sat in his booth along a well-traveled road. At once this man Levi, left everything and followed the Teacher. Not long afterwards Levi hosted a dinner at his home. In attendance were many others like himself along with thieves, prostitutes, drunks, and all manner of individuals who were forbidden from entering the synagogue and worshipping God.”
“I worship my god with good spirits,” a voice remarked.
His response elicited a mix of snickering and affirming, “Here, here!” from others.
“Ignore them,” said Onesimus. “Their laughter masks their fears of what is to come. Please continue.”
“While eating with these people of the street the teachers of the religious rules and others of high standing in the synagogue asked the Teacher’s disciples: ‘Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?’ On hearing this, the Teacher replied, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”
“Would you be so bold as to think that I need to repent?” asked Onesimus.
The harshness of his tone left me wondering if I might be suddenly be killed for speaking the truth of the Teacher.
“We are all sinners in the eyes of Yahweh, the Creator of Heaven and Earth and all that is above and below. None stands in a right relationship with Him, not one. His ways are greater than our ways. He alone is holy. We are but unclean men adorned in filthy rags.”
“If only I had rags to wear,” said a man.
“To believe we are worthy of looking upon the Teacher’s glory in our present state is to deceive ourselves. It is for this reason I was sent to this ship, I see that now. Though my message is for the captain of this ship and the owner of its cargo, I perceive that some here among you are also meant to hear the Teacher’s invitation to follow him.'”
“Then let us go to the ship’s owner and tell him of this news,” Onesimus replied, “for I perceive you are a prophet of god. Perhaps your words will persuade him to release me and the others. Guard! We have a message for the master of this ship!”
The post Onesimus and the Cost of Running appeared first on Eddie Jones - Author.
