Runner
“Try to keep up,” he said
gruffly exiting the door. Liberius
laughed as we passed by him.
We left the house and
trotted through the crowded streets of the Subura. Though early morning, some of the taverns
were already full with those who worked night shifts at the docks or cleaning
the streets of the wealthier parts of the town.
There was a line of grouchy people outside of the latrines. Some did not wait to get inside. You could not run through this part of the
city, because there was always a crowd and the Subura was filthy with the
rubbish people threw out of their windows at night or other unmentionable
filth. The stench of the streets and the
unwashed bodies surrounding us was almost unbearable. But Timothy ignored it and ran through the
crowd at a slow trot. He never looked
back, as if he did not care if I was there or not.
As we started the climb
out of the Subura, up the Esquiline, the air became cleaner and the
neighborhood less crowded. There were
still tenements, but also homes of the rich, public squares, imposing public
buildings, and temples. The streets were
wider and there was less traffic crowding them.
Timothy began to run faster, sometimes weaving between pedestrians, but
always careful not to touch anyone.
I bumped into a man as I
tried to catch up, only to have him curse me.
Ahead I saw the gate. Timothy
looked back. Smiling he said, “Don’t
lose sight of me once we are out of the gate.”
That moment he looked back
allowed me the chance to catch up.
“Only a fool looks back
to see who is following him,” I said panting at his side.
Timothy laughed and
darted ahead of me. He was through the
gate and moments later I was behind him.
I was panting. I needed to stop
to catch my breath. But Timothy was far
ahead of me. I could not stop.
“It is for freedom, that
Christ has set us free.” Paul’s words
rang in my ears. Freedom. Christ.
Set free. I felt the words rise
in me. They were real. I had only known this Christ for a few
days. The years of listening to what
others said about him no longer mattered.
He was becoming real to me. But
there was one more thing I needed to do.
Timothy was ahead of me
and was not looking back. He had a good,
steady pace. Fatigue left me. I wanted to run beside him, my new brother in
Christ. I pushed harder and felt my legs
burn.
Timothy turned off the
road to run through the fields of freshly harvested hay. A horse tethered to a tree, stopped munching
on the hay and stamped and snorted. He
longed to be free to race with us. I
wanted to run beside the horse too, but now I had to catch this man ahead of
me.
Timothy jumped a log and
seemed to soar across a small stream. I
strained to get closer.
“It is for freedom, that Christ
has set us free.” I was free. I laughed.
I had not felt free my entire life.
I had been chained. Chained as a
captive in real chains. Chained as a
slave in Ephesus and Colossae to a good family, but still separated as a
slave. And chained by the sins of
bitterness and debauchery. Now I was
free. Christ had set me free. Never again would the chains of slavery bind
me, even if I remained a slave my entire life.
Never again would I go back to the hatred that bound me worse than
chains. Never again would I return to
the debauchery that drove me into pain.
I was free.
Suddenly, I felt the
chains fall off my feet. My legs were no
longer bound by my slavery.
So, I ran.
I jumped a log, just
moments after Timothy. He heard me, but
this time he did not look back. He knew
I was behind him. He was running toward
a forest.
I ran seeing the trees
ahead. I wanted to be in this forest. I
wanted to feel the trees speak to me. I
wanted the freedom of the forest.
So, I ran. Faster and stronger. I ran.
At my side was
Timothy. I had caught up to him. I did not turn to look at his face, but I
could sense his surprise. He laughed. His joy was infectious. He enjoyed running and I had caught up to
him.
“You know how to run!” he
shouted. He was running faster.
“I haven’t run since I
was a child.” I felt joy grow with every
stride.
He started to push
faster, straining past his normal pace, so he could pass me. I could sense the tension growing in
him. It was not anger, but the tension
of the race.
I pushed harder. I was faster.
I was free.
I no longer had to prove
to anybody that I was the fastest. I
didn’t have to race the deer or wolf. I
didn’t have to outrun the slavers. I ran
because I was free. I could run past Timothy, because I was as free as he was
free.
It felt good to feel the
wind in my hair. It felt good to feel
the burn in my legs. It felt good to be
free.
Timothy shouted,
“Wait. Stop.”
By the sound of his
voice, I knew he was far behind.
I stopped, the forest in front
of me. I bent panting, my hands on my
knees. I was not tired, but more
refreshed than I had ever been. I could
smell the forest beckoning me. I wanted
to run in this forest, but there was something more important I had to do, so I
could forever be free. I would not live
another day as a slave.
“You know how to run,”
Timothy repeated as he stopped beside me.
“I am free.” I said.
“What?” He was panting and looked confused. I am sure he thought I was about to run away.
“It is for freedom that Christ
has set us free.”
“Paul taught you that?”
“Yes, Brother.” I had never called anybody brother
before. I had no brother or sister when
I was a child. Philemon had wanted his
slave to be his little brother, but he also wanted his slave to serve him. A brother does not enslave his brother. I had never known what it was to have a
brother. This runner standing next to me
was my brother in Christ. We both had
the same father in Paul, who taught us both to be believers in Christ.
“What are you going to
do, Onesimus?”
I had been plagued with
this question for weeks. It was known I,
the runaway slave, was living in Rome, in the house of Paul. Probably Philemon knew by now. Maybe Timothy had even told him. Even from this far away, he could summon the
authorities to take me.
“I am never going to be a
slave again, Timothy.”
I had thought long about
this. I could not be a slave any longer,
no matter the consequences.
“I don’t know what to
say, Onesimus.” I knew Timothy was
perplexed in how to handle me. He
thought I was about to run away.
“Am I your brother,
Timothy?” He felt like a brother to me
now. We both were Christians. We both were runners. We both were free.
“I am not sure how to
answer you.”
“Paul says repeatedly
that we are all brothers in Christ if we believe. He says there is no difference in someone
being a Gentile or Jew, a Greek or Roman.
He says to me often that Christ does not look at me as a slave. He says there is no difference between you, a
Roman citizen, and me, a slave.” Timothy
bent his head and looked at the ground.
“So, I ask you, Timothy, am I your brother in Christ?”
“I cannot help you
escape, Onesimus. Philemon is my
cousin. I must do right by him.”
“I am not asking you to
help me escape, Timothy. I could run now
if I wanted to. No one would notice and
no one would care, except you. I could
be far away before you could summon the authorities.” I took a deep breath and looked around at the
beautiful countryside so close to the crowded noisy city of Rome. “But I want to know if I am your brother.”
“You are my brother in
Christ.” Timothy said it without
hesitation. “I have watched you change
over the years, especially in these weeks here in Rome. I have listened to your words. I have heard your answers to Paul. I believe you are a Christian, like me. I have believed that for a very long time and
that disturbed me. How was I supposed to
act toward you, my brother in Christ, who is also my cousin’s slave? Yes, Onesimus, I believe you are my brother
in Christ.”
“Then I need your help to
be permanently free, my brother.”
“I told you, I won’t help
you escape.” He looked at the
ground. I knew the battle was real
inside him.
I grabbed him by the
shoulders, making him look at me.
“Brother, I want to go with you when you return to Ephesus, and then on
to Colossae.”
“What?” he asked confused.
“I need to return to Philemon.” Suddenly what I needed to do made more sense
than anything I had ever done in my life.
I was afraid, but I also felt at peace.
“I need to ask his forgiveness for stealing from him and running from
him.”
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