As part of my ministry school, I took a class called Loving the Word and as the last homework we had to respond creatively to a passage of the Bible of our choice. I chose a story that is not very familiar (you can find out which one by reading it!) to me and I am pleased with the result, so I thought I would share it here. Enjoy!

I always stand at the west window to watch the blue sky turn from pink to orange to gold. It is the most peaceful time of the day and I can feel the presence of the Christ with me every time I do. Sometimes He will speak to me, but usually, like tonight, we will just sit and watch together. Ever since I heard the good news, I have always wondered how the Christ painted the sky such glorious colours. I cannot help but think that He must come and design it Himself each evening – not even an angel could make it so beautiful!

In the soft light, I make out the figure of Justus and another man walking amiably together. I cannot make out the other man yet, but I guess that they met in the city and perhaps there is a message or even a letter for me. Justus is the newest slave I have purchased and already one of the best purchases I have ever made. He is a simple man, but as honest as they come and as strong as a horse. He has accepted the faith already, though I think it is because it was I who introduced it to him. I tried to explain that he must make the choice himself; that I was not forcing him to follow Christ, but I don't think he understood. I sigh, and ponder my promise to myself that I would do everything to introduce him to Jesus on a personal level.

As they approach the house, the other man looks familiar. He reminds me of….It can't be! He wouldn't dare come back! He knows the penalty! The sunset forgotten, I walk briskly for the stairs feeling both angry and confused. Without realising, I leave all the peace of God behind me as I hasten toward the atrium.

"Justus, restrain him!" I shout as soon as they walk into the house. Justus looks hurt and confused, but to his credit doesn't hesitate for a moment but forces the man against the wall and locks his arms behind his back. I hear a housemaid passing through the room give a gasp of recognition and scuttle away. Soon the whole house will know that he is here.

As the man is held against the wall, I look him straight in the eyes and see sadness, but not a single shred of fear. Does he not fear death? Has he lost his mind in the time he has been away? He looks me straight in the eye for a second, then wordlessly indicates a letter in his hand, that in my hostility I had not noticed.

I take the letter and see that it is addressed to me. I break the seal hastily and quickly scan the contents. Not believing what I read I find myself reading it again. The third time I read it, I find myself beginning to weep:

'Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ, and Timothy our brother,

'To Philemon our beloved friend…

'I appeal to you for my son Onesimus, whom I have begotten while in chains… I am sending him back… for perhaps he departed for this purpose, that you might receive him forever, no longer as a slave, but more than a slave – a beloved brother…

'Receive him as you would me. If he has wronged you or owes anything, put that on my account… I will repay – not to mention that you owe me even your own self besides…'

As I look up from the letter with tear-stained eyes, I see the peace of God on Onesimus. In my anger I had not recognised Christ in him. There can be no denying the faith that brought him back.

"Release him," I say, "He is a brother now."