“He Delighteth in Mercy”

This same God was watching over Onesimus. He saw him when he stole that money, and as he fled from his master’s house. He watched him on his way to Rome, and in due time brought him face to face with Paul. Through that same precious gospel that had been blest to the salvation of Philemon, Onesimus, the thieving runaway slave, was also saved, and another star was added to the Redeemer’s crown.
Then I can imagine Onesimus coming to Paul, and saying, “Now, Paul, I want your advice. There is a matter which is troubling me. You know my master, Philemon. I must confess that I robbed him and ran away. I feel now that I must go back, and try to make things right.”
One evidence that people are really born of God is their effort to make restitution for wrong done in the past. They want a good conscience both before God and man.
“Paul, ought I to go back in accordance with the Roman law? I have nothing to pay, and I don’t know just what to do. I do not belong to myself, and it is quite impossible to ever earn anything to make up for the loss. Will you advise me what to do?”
Paul might have said, “I know Philemon well. He has a tender, kind, loving heart and a forgiving spirit. I will write him a note and ask him to forgive you, and that will make everything all right.”
But he did not do that. Why? I think that he wanted to give us a wonderful picture of the great gospel of vicarious substitution. One of the primary aspects of the work of the Cross is substitution. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself paid the debt that we owe to the infinite God, in order that when forgiveness came to us it would be on a perfectly righteous basis. Paul, who had himself been justified through the Cross, now says, “I will write a letter to Philemon, and undertake to become your surety. You go back to Philemon, and present my letter. You do not need to plead your own case; just give him my letter.”
We see Onesimus with that message from Paul safely hidden in his wallet, hurrying back to Colosse. Imagine Philemon standing on the portico of his beautiful residence, looking down the road, and suddenly exclaiming, “Why, who is that? It certainly looks like that scoundrel, Onesimus! But surely he would not have the face to come back. Still, it looks very much like him. I will just watch and wait.
A little later, he says, “I declare, it is Onesimus! He seems to be coming to the house. I suppose he has had a hard time in the world. The stolen money is all gone, and now perhaps he is coming to beg for pardon.”
As he comes up the pathway, Onesimus calls, “Master, Master!”
“Well, Onesimus, are you home again?”
“Yes, Master, read this, please.”
No other word would Onesimus speak for himself; Paul’s letter would explain all.
Philemon takes the letter, opens it, and begins to read: Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ.
“Why Onesimus, where did you meet Paul? Did you see him personally?”
“Yes, Master, in the prison in Rome; he led me to Christ.” Unto Philemon our dearly beloved, and fellow laborer. “Little enough I have ever done, but that is just like Paul.” And to our beloved Apphia. (That was Mrs. Philemon.) “Come here, Apphia. Here is a letter from Paul.” When Mrs. Philemon sees Onesimus, she exclaims, “Are you back?” One can imagine her mingled disgust and indignation as she sees him standing there. But Philemon says: “Yes, my dear, not a word. Here is a letter for us to read — a letter from Paul.”
Running on down the letter he comes to this: Yet for love’s sake I rather beseech thee, being such an one as Paul the aged, and now also a prisoner of Jesus Christ. I beseech thee for my son Onesimus.
“Think of that! He must have been putting it over on Paul in some way or another.”
Whom I have begotten in my bonds. “I wonder if he told him anything about the money he stole from us. I suppose he has been playing the religious game with Paul.”
Which in time past was to thee unprofitable.
“I should say he was.”
But now profitable to thee and to me.
“I am not so sure of that.”
Whom I have sent again.
“Paul must have thought a lot of him. If he didn’t serve him any better than he did me, he would not get much out of him.” He goes on reading through the letter.
“Well, well, that rascally, thieving liar! Maybe Paul believes that he is saved, but I will never believe it unless I find out that he owned up to the wrong he did me.”
What is this? If he hath wronged thee, or oweth thee ought, put that on my account; I Paul have written it with-mine own hand, I will repay it: albeit I do not say to thee how thou owest unto me even thine own self besides.
Oh, I think in a moment Philemon was conquered. “Why,” he says, “it is all out then. He has confessed his sin. He has acknowledged his thieving, owned his guilt, and, just think, Paul, that dear servant of God, suffering in prison for Christ’s sake, says: Put that on my account. I will settle everything for him. Paul becomes his surety.” It was just as though Paul should write today: “Charge that to my account!”