Make a Place for the Called Out
I have an unusual habit. I write letters. I mean the old-fashioned, handwritten (in cursive), on pretty stationery, with a postage stamp, sent through the U.S. mail kind of letters. One reason I do this is that I enjoy receiving letters. There is a look and feel to a personal letter that almost casts its own light from beneath the piles of impersonal, meaningless, or unpleasant stacks of paper that invade our homes through our mailboxes.
I correspond with a few people whose replies frequently glow in my mailbox. There are others I write to regularly knowing they are never, ever going to answer. I do it because I want to give them that little flash of joy, whether or not I get anything back.
I graduated long ago from the opening lines formula we teach children: “Dear [fill-in-the-blank], How are you? I am fine.” However, I’m thinking I might take a lesson from the New Testament writers who addressed their letters to individuals or groups by name, adding, “Here’s what you are to me.” You are loved by God, beloved to me, and I thank God for you whenever I think about you. Grace, mercy, and peace to you, whatever else follows in this letter.
Of course, I would want any greeting in a letter’s opening to be true. Beginning with false praise would make the recipient suspicious, at the very least. The apostle Paul addresses the letter we call the Book of Philemon to “Philemon, our beloved fellow worker.” Paul also addresses Apphia, who may have been Philemon’s wife, Archippus, and the church meeting in Philemon’s house. We have no idea how many people that included. Most of us struggle with a gracious response when someone praises us. Imagine Philemon reading the letter aloud in church with everyone sitting there watching, his face getting redder and redder, if Paul had been heaping on false praise.
Paul doesn’t want to burn bridges here, either. He ends the letter by telling these people to get a room ready for him because he hopes to visit again. I can’t imagine Paul wanting to walk back into that house months later, sheepish, having to acknowledge, Yeah, I poured it on a bit thick, didn’t I?
Assuming, then, that Paul was being strictly honest, I have been meditating on what he says about the character of this exemplary man. What would Paul have said about me after an extended stay at my house?
“To Philemon, our beloved fellow worker.” Philemon is in good company. Others Paul addresses similarly include Prisca and Aquila, “who risked their necks’‘ for Paul’s life, and Epaphroditus, who risked his life in Paul’s service. He also names Mark, the sometime deserter, who returned to the work and went on to become useful to Paul in his ministry. There are Titus and Timothy, and Luke, Paul’s beloved physician. I may never be called on to risk my life in Jesus’ service, but am I willing? Have I ever risked anything for Him?
Paul mentions others who don’t seem to have done anything as dramatic as nearly dying with him. Yet somehow, they merit mention. Is there anyone who knows me who would list me among their beloved fellow workers?
The church meets in Philemon’s house. Church is the word we use to translate the Greek word ekklesia, which means “the called out.” This simply means that a number of believers were known to assemble in Philemon’s house for Christian worship. It wasn’t necessarily a Sunday meeting with people sitting in pews, with a choir and preacher, and all the trimmings. Do I think of my home as a meeting place for the called out? Jesus promised to be present if two or three believers gather in his name. That means as few as my husband and me. I need to be more mindful of Jesus’ presence in my home. Are there ways I can make my home more of a sanctuary for others among his called out?
In Philemon’s day, when someone left town on a journey, it might be weeks or months before he was heard from, if ever. It would have been easy for Philemon and his house church to allow Paul’s teaching and example to fade from their minds, to fall back into old habits, as they carried on their lives without a word from him. But Paul says he’s been hearing good reports of Philemon’s love and faith toward Jesus and all the saints. How? From whom? God periodically sends me reminders that someone is always watching. I strive for good reports. Not so I can feel good about myself, but so Jesus’s kingdom will be well spoken of.
Paul says he derives much joy and comfort from Philemon’s love because he refreshes the hearts of the saints. If someone were to start asking around my household, church, workplace, or neighborhood, would they hear tales of me refreshing anyone’s heart?
Because of their relationship, Paul has the right to command Philemon to do what he wants, but he knows he can trust Philemon to consider what’s right and do it willingly. What’s more, he knows that Philemon will not only be obedient but that he will do even more than he asks. What is my reputation among those who talk about me when I’m not around? Am I known for willingly doing right?
And finally, here’s that encouragement again to do even more. Often, when I’m tired, I’m tempted to think, or maybe even say out loud, Aren’t I doing enough? But I know the answer. I may be doing a lot, but am I doing the useful, effective things, or just staying busy? Do the things I’m doing reflect selflessness or selfishness? These are uncomfortable questions, but I need to ask them of myself if my goal is to one day hear from my Savior, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Through the gift of a faithful mother and grandmother, grew up knowing Jesus as a friend. Married for nearly two-thirds of her life, there has been time for several seasons, from homeschooling to owning a coffee shop. She has three grown children and eight grandchildren. An element of this season is writing about literature and life at Plumfield and Paideia.
Photograph © Carolyn V, used with permission
