If you suffer severe limitations, what do you wish for? What is your prayer, if you are bound by something that keeps you from doing what you really want to do? Do you wish you could be free from it? Likely you do. Do you even pray that you might have that limitation removed? I expect that I would. And yet the witness of the ages is that those who accept their limitations as the will of God are able to find fulfillment anyway. Most of all, they are able to witness to God’s love from within those limitations. They help others because in their being limited they exhibit what the human spirit can do when we live in faith.
Some of us suffer physical limitations. Our hearing is not good, or our eyesight is poor. We are too weak, too heavy, too uncoordinated, too clumsy. Here we are watching the Olympics, and all I can do as I watch these incredibly fast, graceful young people is to remember how I would always balk at the hurdles or stumble at the jump bar. Too clumsy by far! And now too elderly even to think about it. Physical limitations hold us back, and we are imprisoned in a body that doesn’t work right. Chained to clumsiness.
Others of us deal with financial limitations. We have debts, our job is not secure, our pay is too low, the prices are too high. There is always more month than money, and when they start talking about savings and IRA’s and investments, forget about it! We are just trying to pay the rent and the utilities and fill up the thirsty gasoline tank. Financial limitations hold us chained to our checkbooks.
Physical, financial, emotional – all sorts of things imprison us, and we would love to be rid of them. We would love to be free. And yet again the witness of the ages is that those who accept their limitations as the will of God are able to find fulfillment anyway. Most of all, they are able to witness to God’s love from within those limitations. They help others because in their being limited they exhibit what the human spirit can do when we live in faith. Not despite the chains, but because of the chains.
Paul is writing the Colossian letter from prison. Exactly where is unclear, but most Bible scholars think it was in Rome, where we know that he was under house arrest, chained to a soldier at all times. Free to come and go only if the guard will allow him, free to move only so far as the chain will stretch, scarcely free at all. And yet Paul’s spirit is free, Paul’s heart is not chained, Paul’s mind is not shackled, Paul’s purposes are not held back, because Paul sees his imprisonment as part of the mysterious plan of God. Paul uses his chains as a witness to his companions. Surrounded and visited by others, to each of them Paul provides a witness about the things that bind.
I invite you to eavesdrop with me today, to listen in at that little chamber. There are some conversations going on that we need to hear.
I
One of Paul’s companions is Tychicus. Tychicus was from Ephesus, and had traveled with Paul on one of his missionary journeys. Now Tychicus, whose name, by the way, is derived from the Greek word meaning “luck”, is to be the carrier of this letter to Colossae. We think he also carried the letters to Philemon and to the Ephesians. Tychicus was one of those people who labor in the background, doing work behind the scenes, making things happen, but never a superstar. They do not get their names on book covers, they do not get retirement banquets, they do not receive praise for all that they do. Tychicus is one of those on whom others depend for the detail work, but their jobs never expand. Their roles never become public. They are always behind the scenes, and one could imagine a conversation like this:
Says Tychicus to Paul: “Another letter, Paul? Another message to be carried? Is there nothing more for me? Am I stuck forever in this dead-end job? Paul, some day I would like to be the fellow who writes the letter instead of just the one who carries it. Or, if that’s not possible, I would like to be at least the one who stands up and reads the letter. But no, I never get another thing to do. We travel, you write, I trudge many a mile to hand your letter to someone, and wait for them to write a reply. Back I come, and we travel, you write, I trudge. Is there nothing greater for me to do, Paul?”
And to that I hear the apostle answer, “Remember my chains, Tychicus. Remember my chains. What I can do is limited, not so much by my choice, but by circumstances, and, I believe, by God Himself. And so, Tychicus, my lucky friend, how fortunate you are to be able to contribute your gifts to the Kingdom. Think of it, Tychicus. You are free. You are free to say ‘no’ to this assignment. You are free to take your time as you journey, or to rest. But when you do your task, and if you do it as unto the Lord, it bears fruit. It pays off. Have you not noticed, good friend, that when you bring my letter, its recipients welcome you? Have you not seen that when they have read it, they are eager to give you their response? They trust you, Tychicus. You have shown that you are dependable. I depend on you. The Lord depends on you. We do not need or want you to be spectacular. We simply need you to be faithful. Tychicus, there are no small tasks in the Lord’s service. You, my lucky friend, you can be the best letter carrier there ever was, for you are carrying the Good News! If you feel that that is too limited, remember my chains. Remember my chains.”
There are no small tasks if they are done for Christ. Says the song, “Only what you do for Christ will last.” Let us remember Tychicus of the routine tasks and find joy in what we are called to do, even if it’s humdrum. And remember Paul’s chains.
II
The second of Paul’s visitors is Onesimus. Onesimus will be traveling with Tychicus. To Onesimus we attach one odious word, one terrible title: slave. Onesimus was a slave, and worse than that, a runaway slave. The property of one Philemon, now feeling hunted and harried wherever he went, because who knew when the soldiers might capture him and send him back? Onesimus had wanted to be free, and who can blame him? Of all the limitations we face, none is more brutal and more dehumanizing than enslavement. But something totally unexpected happened when Onesimus met Paul; Onesimus received Christ as his savior, and then heard Paul tell him to return to Philemon’s house and to slavery. Can you imagine that conversation?
Says Onesimus, “Back to Philemon? You are asking me to go back to Philemon? Do you not know, Paul, that a runaway slave is subject to death? I could lose everything if I go back there. And even if Philemon does not hurt me, how can I face him with what I have done? How can I face my friends and my family, having shamed them? Paul, I am a failure, I have done wrong, I have broken the law, I have been selfish. Don’t ask me to go back to the place where it all began. Let me start over somewhere else, where they won’t know my past. My mistakes hold me in chains.”
But the apostle has an answer. “Onesimus, remember my chains. Remember that I too came from living contrary to the way of Christ. Remember that once I was out to pursue and destroy every believer, but Christ met me and turned me around, much to the chagrin of those with whom I had once trained. My brothers in Israel want nothing to do with me now. They consider me worthless. But I am not worthless, Onesimus, for Christ has given me new life. He has made me new. And he will do that for you too, Onesimus. You are not the same person you once were, and you do not have to live in shame any longer. You are a new creation, and what is past is past, forgotten, blotted out in the blood of Christ. Onesimus, go back to Philemon, and let him see who you are now. And I am confident that Philemon will receive you not as his runaway who should be punished but as his brother who should be loved. Onesimus, because of Christ there is no shame, no guilt, out of which we cannot come into victory. I know. I was chief of sinners, but Christ Jesus made me whole. So go on, Onesimus, go back to Philemon, with your head held high. And remember my chains.”
We do ourselves great disservice if we let the mistakes we have made in the past limit what God wants to give us now. And we do others great disservice if we expect nothing good from them because of their past problems. Let us remember Onesimus and his shame and find new hope for those who have stumbled. And remember Paul’s chains.
III
All sorts of things imprison us, and we would love to be rid of them. We would love to be free. And yet the witness of the ages is that those who accept their limitations as the will of God are able to find fulfillment anyway. Most of all, they are able to witness to God’s love from within those limitations. They help others because in being limited they exhibit what the human spirit can do when we live in faith. Not despite the chains, but because of the chains.
And so it may come as no surprise that having dealt with Tychicus, the lucky letter carrier laboring in what seemed like a nothing job, and having insisted to Onesimus, the runaway slave turned brother in Christ, Paul must deal also with one whose limitations had seriously intersected his own life. Paul must deal with Mark. Mark, the young man who had wanted, so he thought, to go on a missionary journey with Paul, but who got cold feet and left part way through. That caused a serious dispute between Paul and Mark and Mark’s cousin Barnabas. For a long time after that Paul would not trust Mark with any responsibility. He was forever marked, if you please, in the mind of Paul. So we can imagine their pointed conversation:
Mark pleads: “Paul, I acknowledge that I was wrong. I was young, I was immature, I did not understand what it meant to be on mission. I am different now, Paul. Look, here I am with you in Rome. That ought to be evidence enough that I am willing to be on mission for Christ and a partner with you. Paul, you can trust me now. I have grown up.”
But Paul is not quite ready for that: “Mark, you can fool me once and I will recover. But you are not going to fool me twice. I know about you. I saw what you did back in Cyprus, and I am not going to have it again. Look at these chains, Mark, look at these chains. I do not have time to play games with you. Remember my chains.”
But Mark is persistent, as I hear him speaking once more: “Paul, you have written yourself about becoming mature in Christ. In this very letter to our brothers and sisters at Colossae, you have told us that we are ‘clothed with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator.’ Surely, Paul, you must give me the benefit of the doubt. Yes, I was young. Yes, I was immature and inexperienced. Yes, I deserted you and deserted Christ. But remember my youth and then look at how I have grown. Please, Paul, please. Trust me.”
And Paul, now struggling against his chains – not the iron ones, but his spiritual and emotional chains – now Paul relents, at least a little: “All right, Mark. One more chance. Let’s see what you do with a trip to Colossae. If you go, well, I have already sent them some instructions. If you go, they will know how to put you to work. If you go ….”
Mark went. Mark did as Paul instructed. And again, and again. Until one day, late in this imprisonment, when Paul knew that his days were numbered and that he had nearly finished the course, he wrote to his disciple Timothy, “When you come, bring Mark with you, for he is useful to me.” Mark useful. Paul, in iron chains, slowly but surely himself freed from the chains of judgment and the shackles of resentment. Remember your own chains.
IV
All sorts of things imprison us, and we would love to be rid of them. We would love to be free. We pray to be released. And yet the witness of the ages is that those who accept their limitations as the will of God are able to find fulfillment anyway. Most of all, they are able to witness to God’s love from within those limitations. They help others because in being limited they exhibit what the human spirit can do when we live in faith. Not despite the chains, but because of the chains.
You listened in on Paul and Tychicus, and learned that even while you are chained to a boring, small life, you can be free, for you are called to do what you do for the Kingdom, where there are no small tasks. Remember the chains.
You overheard Paul and Onesimus, and found that even while you are shackled to shame and guilt for the things you have done, you can be free, for you are called to a new life, where the past is forgiven and forgotten. Remember the chains.
And you eavesdropped on Paul and Mark, and discovered that even while you labor under youthful indiscretions, you can mature, and that those who are suspicious of you can be won over. Remember that all of us are chained in one way or another.
All that remains, then, is that we understand one another’s chains and encourage one another. All that remains is that we get it: I am chained, you are chained, all of us are chained, all of us are limited by one issue or another. But the gift we have to give each other is the gift of encouragement. There may be no keys to unlock some of these chains, but we can remember our chains and use them to encourage others.
So Paul, writing to somebody named Archippus, there in Colossae. Nothing really known about Archippus, but this pungent line, at the end of the letter. “And say to Archippus, ‘See that you complete the task that you have received in the Lord.’ I Paul write this … with my own hand. Remember my chains.”
The last words of the letter are words of encouragement. Get the job done. Finish the course. Olympian, do not falter before the finish. Hang on to the baton. For some of us have let our limitations hold us back. Some of us have imagined that we are not worth much. Some of us have supposed that we are not good enough. And some of us have not only held ourselves back, but have strapped others down as well. But no. No. Somebody just needs to say, “See that you complete the task that you have received in the Lord. Remember my chains.”
When I first came to Washington in 1971 to do campus ministry, my supervisor was someone a few of you may remember: Howard Rees. Rees was a person whose limitations were many. A polio victim as a young person, he had to use crutches to get around. And then the victim also of a serious automobile accident, he had been hospitalized for months and months and never fully recovered. But as a student at George Washington University, he had caught the vision for Baptists to create a ministry on that campus and at the other universities in the city. The record will show that it was a fight to get D. C. Baptists to approve that idea. For years Howard Rees struggled with insufficient funding, with resistance in the churches, and with tremendous physical problems in order to do student ministry. And to do it all by himself, at GW, American University, the University of Maryland, Gallaudet College, and even at Montgomery College. An impossible task, particularly when you are chained to limitations most of the time.
But I soon came to see that nearly forty years after he began this ministry, there was no more trusted person in all of Washington than Howard Rees. Not only did students seek him out, but so also did people from all walks of life, from professors to pastors to ambassadors. They trusted his counsel and they listened to his teaching. How did Rees do it? How did he move from being a bundle of limitations to a pillar of strength? He remembered his chains. He drew on his limitations. And the chains became the means of witness and the source of encouragement.
Brothers, sisters, whatever it is that holds you back, hear for yourselves what Paul said to Archippus, “See that you complete the task that you have received in the Lord …. Remember my chains.” For the witness of the ages is that those who accept their limitations as the will of God are able to find fulfillment anyway. Most of all, they are able to witness to God’s love from within those limitations. They help others because in being limited they exhibit what the human spirit can do when we live in faith. Not despite the chains, but because of the chains. Remember my chains.
