Proper 18C (Pentecost 13 2025)

Text: Luke 14:27 “27 Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.”

I. A Costly Call

Today, you are reading someone else’s mail.

Most of the time, when you hear a reading from one of Paul’s letters, it is addressed to an entire congregation—the church in Corinth, or the church in Ephesus, or the church in Rome. But today is different. Today’s reading is from a letter written to one man.

It is still Scripture. It is still divinely inspired. But what we are reading today is a window into one Christian’s very difficult situation. What we are reading today is St. Paul’s appeal to him.

And while it is deeply personal, it is not private. It is written to one person, but it speaks to all of us. Because through this personal letter, God shows us what the life of faith actually looks like when it is not abstract, but when it is tested. When it comes at a cost. When it looks like the kind of discipleship Jesus describes in today’s Gospel: when you must carry your cross and come after Him—even if it means turning away from the people closest to you. Or receiving back someone you once sent away.

B. The Situation

The man Paul was writing to was named Philemon. That’s where we get the name of this book, obviously. Philemon is a respected Christian in the church at Colossae. He is likely wealthy. The church meets in his house. He has servants. One of them—Onesimus—is the subject of this letter. Paul is writing to Philemon about Onesimus.

Onesimus had been a slave in Philemon’s household. At some point, he ran away.

With 21st century eyes, we are quick to focus on the slave’s justifiable desire for freedom. A slave owner is the villain in just about every story you hear— and for good reason.

Slavery in the Roman Empire was not the same as the slavery was practiced here in the United States. But it was still oppressive. They did not enslave people because they believed an entire group of people— an entire race— was less than human. But it was still slavery. Slaves could be bought and sold. They could be punished severely. Their lives were not their own.

St. Paul did not endorse the institution. He told Christian slaves to gain their freedom if they could. In the meantime, he told them to serve their masters faithfully. He assured them “8 that whatever good anyone does, this he will receive back from the Lord, whether he is a bondservant or is free” (Ephesians 6:8). What he is, arguably, more concerned with, is telling Christian masters to treat their slaves justly and fairly. “9 Masters, do the same to them, and stop your threatening, knowing that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and that there is no partiality with him” (Ephesians 6:9).

But that is not what Paul is writing about here. Because this is not simply a story of a slave returning to his master. This is a Christian returning to another Christian. A man who once ran away—now returning in repentance and faith.

And that is why this story matters. In the Gospel reading, Jesus says the cross you carry as one of His disciples may require you to turn your back on someone you love. But, at other times, the cross is not turning your back on someone. Sometimes, it is opening your arms to someone who has hurt you—and now stands beside you as your brother.

That is what Paul is asking Philemon to do. Paul has discovered that Onesimus is a runaway slave. So he is sending Onesimus back to Philemon.

But, as he sends him back, he calls on Philemon to receive Onesimus not as a runaway, not as a thief, not as a servant—but as a brother in Christ.

Philemon’s story is a perfect example of the sort of thing Jesus is talking about in the Gospel reading. It is not abstract. It is not theoretical. It is personal. And it is costly.

He is being asked to open his home, and even more, to open his heart—to someone who hurt him. Someone who wronged him. Someone who may not deserve it.

This is where faith becomes real.

Not when you gather with friends in church. But when the man who once betrayed you stands at the door.

When the person who wronged you returns as your brother. When faith no longer means simply showing up to worship—but receiving back a man who betrayed you. When faith costs you something.

In other words, when it means picking up your cross and following Jesus.

II. A Greater Cost Has Already Been Paid

Now, as Paul tells Philemon to carry the cost of reconciling with Onesimus, he offers Philemon something remarkable:

“If he has wronged you at all, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, write this with my own hand: I will repay it.” (Philemon 18–19)

This is not just polite rhetoric. Paul is offering to stand in the gap. To pay what Onesimus owes.

When Onesimus ran away, it is hard to imagine that he would not have stolen something— something valuable or just money, itself— so that he had something to survive on. Even if he did not take anything, he stole from his master by running away. So Philemon was not just betrayed, he had been robbed.

What Paul is asking Philemon to do is not fair. Philemon suffered a very real loss. And Paul knows it. It is not fair to receive back someone who has wronged you. It is not fair to treat a runaway servant as a brother. So Paul does not appeal to fairness. Paul promises to bear the cost of the wrong himself—so that Philemon can receive his brother without hesitation.

Paul’s action is more than a personal gesture. He is taking on Onesimus’s debt. He is absorbing the loss. Before he asks Philemon to do what is not fair, Paul acts in a way that is completely unfair— in the best possible way. He bases his appeal on unfairness. He is unfair in everyone else’s favor: for Onesimus’s sake, for Philemon’s sake, and for the sake of the Church.

That is what love does.

And that is what God does.

God does not do what is fair. He does not treat you as your sins deserve. He is unfair—in the best possible way.

Being asked to forgive someone who has wronged you can be very hard to accept. It grates against your sense of justice. But God is not asking you to do something He has not already done. In fact, He is inviting you to share in His mercy.

Because someone else has done this for you—and for the person who has wronged you.

B. Jesus Bears the Cost

Jesus did not simply urge you to forgive. He bore the full cost of your sin.

He paid what you owed. He carried what you could not. He took your place—so that you could stand before God not as a runaway servant, but as a beloved son or daughter.

“He was pierced for [your] transgressions, He was crushed for [your] iniquities. The punishment that brought [you] peace was upon Him, and by His wounds [you] are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

“He canceled the record of debt that stood against [you]… nailing it to the cross.” (Colossians 2:14)

“While [you] were still sinners, Christ died for [you].” (Romans 5:8)

And He bore the cost of their sin, too—the one who wronged you.

The one you are afraid to face.

The one you are being asked to forgive.

He does not ask you to carry that burden alone.

He has carried it already.

He did not command you to follow Him from a distance.

He came to you.

He found you.

He bore your debt.

He called you brother. Sister.

Before asking you to take up the cross of being gracious to those around you, He took up His cross for you.

And then He said, “Come, follow me.”

C. That Is Why You Can Carry the Cross

“If he has wronged you at all, or owes you anything, charge that to my account” (Philemon 18). This is what enables Philemon to do what Paul asks of him.

It is also what enables you to do what Jesus asks of you.

The cost of discipleship is real. But it is not yours to bear alone.

Christ has already paid the greater cost. When others sin against you, the harm that he or she has done to you is real. Jesus is not asking you to overlook that fact— to overlook that loss. What He is saying is, “whatever he or she owes you, charge that to my account.” In fact, I have already paid for it in full on the cross.

That is how, by His Spirit, He equips you to bear the cross He lays upon you.

Sometimes, that cross will mean turning your back on someone. But sometimes, it will mean opening your heart to someone.

Sometimes, it will be the hard work of reconciliation. Of mercy. Of grace. That may be the cross you bear.

Sometimes, it won’t mean reconciliation, but it will mean something just as difficult: walking alongside that brother or sister in Christ through the mess and hardship of real life—the brokenness of sin, the grief of loss, the burden of sorrow. That may be the cross you bear.

It is a lot. What Jesus is calling you to do is not easy. It is painful. It is unfair. It is just plain hard.

And, as often as that burden becomes too much for you to carry, come and receive more of the grace of Christ, who carried you.

Receive that grace again, then take up your cross and follow Him. Follow the One who bore the cross for you.

Walk the path He walked—through sacrifice, through mercy, through love.

IV. Conclusion: Count the Cost—and Take the Next Step

You and I will not be in exactly the same place as Philemon.

But you may be called to:

Forgive someone who has not earned it

Let go of what you are “owed”

Receive someone not as a threat, but as a brother or sister in Christ

Share the burden of another’s suffering.

That will cost you something.

But it will also give you something:

The joy of living in the mercy of Jesus and the privilege of proclaiming to the world, by the way you carry that cross, the Savior who carried yours first.

So count the cost. Take up your cross. And follow your Savior.