Friday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 477

I, a prisoner for the Lord,

urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received,

with all humility and gentleness, with patience,

bearing with one another through love,

striving to preserve the unity of the spirit

through the bond of peace;

Saint Paul, urging his Ephesian disciples to work out their differences and live peacefully, described himself as "a prisoner for the Lord." He is adept at claiming identities most of us would avoid. His other favorite title is "slave."

We can suppose he was, in fact, writing from a prison somewhere in the Roman Empire. He often cooled his heels in captivity though his ardor for the Lord never cooled. So his self-description, "a prisoner for the Lord," is obvious; perhaps he implies some ironic humor. But the Apostle's words always intimate a deeper truth. Whether he is in prison or free, at sea or on land, travelling or settled in a Christian home, he is always a prisoner of the Lord, free to do God's will but not his own. This is nothing less than an extraordinary privilege, desired by few and granted to fewer.

This teacher's self-description carries an implied message for us. If I would "live in a manner worthy of the call," practicing humility, gentleness and patience, I should also be a prisoner of the Lord.

I visited the city and parish jails in Jennings, Louisiana as a pastor there, but I was never a prisoner. I can tell you they're not pleasant places, not even to visit. It takes a deal of courage to step through the door and hear the gate slam behind you; and then to hear a series of clanging gates as you enter more deeply. It helps to have a mission.

Confinement means few options. The schedule is determined, as is the menu. Activities are limited. Many jails have no library and little reading material. Nor can you bring your own entertainment system, not even a magazine. The cement floors and walls and steel bars intensify the noise, which is continuous. Thinking is a deliberate exercise amid constant distractions and occasional threats. If you don't enjoy people and their endless need for attention, stay out of jail. If you want attention, forget it.

Because living in this world kept him far from his desire, Saint Paul could regard all the world as a prison. "I long to depart this life and be with Christ, for that is far better." he wrote in his letter to the Philippians. Freedom to travel, to work or to eat what he liked: these privileges meant nothing compared to the surpassing treasure of belonging to Jesus as his prisoner and slave.

Wherever Saint Paul found himself, he knew he was sent there. The Holy Spirit was his booking agent and if his presidential chair was a prison bench and his congregation, fellow prisoners, that's where he enjoyed perfect freedom. 

American Christians do well to study Saint Paul's freedom when we consider the privilege of living in a "free country." We're only as free as prisoners for the Lord.