Chapter 5
So far Paul has used arguments that involve him and his own experiences. Now he switches focus and turns to arguments that involve the Galatians and their experiences. The hinge on which this switch turns is the line he has just dictated:
I do not set aside the grace of God. For if righteousness comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing. (Galatians 2:21)
I suspect Paul must have paused in his pacing as he dictated the letter. He stops in his tracks. This may have — in modern parlance — triggered him.
O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? (Galatians 3:1a)
Indeed.
Who has bewitched them? We don't know exactly who, and it seems that Paul doesn't exactly know either — but we have a pretty good idea what crowd they belong to: the aforementioned circumcision group. The group who feel the need to add to faith in Christ by doing stuff to justify themselves. The group who think righteousness can be gained by the law. And "bewitched" is the right word.
It implies a spell has been cast over the Galatians — a spell they themselves are unaware of, like the Imperius Curse in Harry Potter.
This is what astonishes Paul so much. He is a man who sees his message and its implications very clearly. Did Christ die for nothing? He is gobsmacked that the divine message could be so easily changed. For this to happen, there had to be some bewitchment.
How can one break the spell? Is there a cure for this charm?
For Paul there was a great antidote to the bewitchment.
Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified. (Galatians 3:1b)
Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified. How is it that they could possibly deviate from that image? It is so startling, so counter, so extraordinary, so cross-grained, so unexpected and so glorious. As the centrepiece of Paul's message, its image should have stuck in their minds. For the ancient world it was absolutely astonishing.
And it is still astonishing today, even though much of the modern world is unwittingly soaked in the Christian worldview. When properly understood, it remains shocking. God becomes a man and lives a humble and, in one sense, backwater life — and then He allows Himself to be killed by the very people He is trying to reach out to, and He is killed in the most horrible and humiliating way, the kind of death reserved only for a slave. What kind of a God is this? Jesus Himself said He could have stopped the whole terrible process any time He wanted. Why would He allow such things to be done to Him? Any other god worth his divinity has never got his hands so dirty with humiliation and suffering.
Yet that is the central and critical part of God's message. The cross of Jesus is the linchpin that holds everything together. When that is not central, the whole message falls apart. When we do not remember "Christ crucified," we leave ourselves open to bewitchment. Yet by accepting a change in the message, this is exactly what the Galatians are doing. By going back to the Jewish law, they are now appearing to ignore — or at least diminish — the significance of the most jaw-dropping event ever in the history of the world: that God allows Himself to be killed, to be put to death by evil men.
Our modern day is no exception to this willingness to give up the central message of the Christian faith. Down through history there has been a tide that pulls people away from the importance of Christ crucified. It always ends up in the backwaters of bewitchment and law-speak.
So far, so much astonishment.
But it goes on. There is further reason for Paul's distress. The Galatians received benefits from coming to Christ. They now seem to ignore how they got those benefits. They are ignoring the witness of their own experience.
What experience, what benefits, could Paul be talking about? What benefits are there to becoming a Christian? Many in our modern world believe there are no benefits at all in coming to Christ — except perhaps being part of a community, or having a crutch for the weak. For many today it is seen as restrictive, narrow-minded, backwards, and "on the wrong side of history."
Of course, the Apostle to the Gentiles spent most of his adult life arguing the opposite. The benefits were so overwhelming that, in comparison, any achievement, pleasure or benefit in this world looked like rotting rubbish:
I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ (Philippians 3:8b)
In another letter (Ephesians 1) Paul lists, in overwhelming joy, all the benefits of being in Christ. Every one of them is spiritual in nature, and some of them need pondering over, for us of little faith. For Paul, however, they were so tremendous that he described having them as "joy unspeakable."
In this letter to the Galatians, Paul alludes to the pinnacle benefit of having faith in Christ — the one that perhaps covers all the others: the Spirit.
I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law, or by hearing with faith? (Galatians 3:2)
Wake up! says Paul. By what means did you receive the Spirit? By faith, or by doing stuff? By believing, or by trying to achieve it yourself — what Paul calls the works of the flesh?
Are you so foolish? After starting in the Spirit, are you now finishing in the flesh? (Galatians 3:3)
This can be a big stumbling block to some modern readers. Paul is saying that once the Galatians accepted and believed the unalterable message, they were given God's Spirit — and this was something they actually experienced.
Have you suffered so much for nothing, if it really was for nothing? (Galatians 3:4)
Paul's argument is very bold. I've heard this kind of before-and-after argument used in today's world to persuade non-believers (for example: "Before coming to Jesus I had no meaning in my life; now my life is full of meaning and purpose"). But Paul is not addressing non-believers here. He is addressing believers. He is saying to Christians, "You've had the benefits — how do you think you got them?"
So this is for believers, not unbelievers.
Does this argument apply to believers in today's world — where a Christian can look back at his own experience and wonder how he got it?
I think Paul would say a resounding "Yes" to that question. Christians are people who look back at what happened — not just in history, to Christ crucified, but in our own personal lives. It is a terrible thing when people explain away their past passion for Christ, the freedom and joy they once had, as "a passing phase," something they are now too educated, too wise or too experienced to accept. There are many who feel they have grown out of their faith. It never seems to occur to these individuals that the reason for their situation might be bewitchment.
The problem for some modern readers is that they don't "feel" or "experience" what Paul might be talking about. How can this "look back at the benefits" argument work for twenty-first-century people who are not so confident they have the Spirit? For them, the before and after photographs may look quite similar.
This touches a very sensitive nerve in some of us moderns. Some have received and experienced the full benefits of putting their faith in Christ crucified. Others don't feel that experience — or at least don't feel confident they can attribute what they experience to the Spirit.
Coming to faith in Christ is experiential. It is not just head knowledge. If someone does not feel anything, then one would have to question their understanding. For in becoming a follower of Jesus, a person is crucified with Christ, and they no longer live, but Christ lives in them. They are justified before God. They are like Isaiah in chapter 6 of his book, who goes from a quivering lump crying "Woe is me!" to leaping before the living God, crying out "Here am I. Send me!" It's like going from death to life.
Such a cosmic change has to involve the whole person — heart, mind and soul. It would be wrong not to experience something.
So Christians have an experience. Every Christian I've met has "a story" of how they came to faith, and that story always involves some kind of experience. But is it sustained? Should we expect it to be sustained? And what if it isn't? There are many faithful Christian people who crave a continuing, overwhelming experience of the Holy Spirit. When they don't have it, they may wonder whether they still have the message right. Perhaps, they think, they don't have the full understanding, or they were misguided in some way.
I remember being in a huge church in London where there was to be a promise of an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. It had been reported that big things had happened in other churches, and now the word on the (Christian) street was that it was going to happen at this particular church. The same leaders would be present, the same format, the same excitement. It seemed logical that it was the place to be that Sunday evening. I just happened to be in London at the same time, visiting my uncle. He was going, and I tagged along with an open heart and great interest.
We were not alone. The church was packed to capacity, with standing room only. News had travelled, and there was intense hunger for the Holy Spirit. The atmosphere was intense. The music was solid. The singing was hearty. The testimonies were enthusiastic. The sermon was full of energy and passion and very earnest. Yet two hours later, nothing "dramatic" had happened. Where was the Spirit? It seemed that maybe we had all been given the wrong address — that the Spirit might be descending elsewhere and we'd missed the divine blessing. What we had attended was, for the Western world, an overly long yet otherwise standard church service (which, I must add, is an absolute privilege to attend in any situation).
The head minister, sensing the mood, gave the benediction and said people were free to leave, but those who wished to receive the Spirit should stay.
No one left. How could they? Who doesn't want God's Spirit?
We were asked to stand. We did. There was silence among hundreds of people.
"Let us just wait for the Spirit to descend," he whispered, raising his arms and gently lowering them as if ushering in the divine.
We waited.
Time ticked on. No Spirit descending, it seemed. I could hear my own wristwatch and people breathing in expectation. Under such intensity, someone was bound to crack.
And so someone did, not very far from me, exploding in hysterical laughter. It spread around the building with a gentle intensity.
"Good, good," whispered the minister through the microphone. It lasted for ten minutes or so.
But after the outpouring, the mood had hardened, and as the people politely filed out of the building there was a general feeling that it hadn't been that good.
My uncle, a man in his sixties, burst into tears on the way home, such was his disappointment. There was a man who longed to have the full blessing of the Spirit.
That whole service was run by sincere people who earnestly wanted to serve the living God. But the error was that the service was trying to receive the Spirit by "doing stuff." They were trying to achieve the Spirit by "works," by "means of the flesh." And they are not alone. We all do it. Some do it by thinking that reverent rituals are the way forward. Some think that good preaching will guarantee success — or modern teaching techniques, or better music, or reading Christian books, or academic study, or making huge sacrifices. Do enough of these, and surely people will have to receive the Spirit.
All such attempts fail to acknowledge that God's Spirit has a personality, and might have an opinion on all this manipulation.
When does God give His Spirit? Paul tells us: when people believe His message. And what is His message? Jesus Christ crucified. When people trust in God's message for themselves, they receive the Spirit, and that is a lasting change. It comes no other way. The Bible tells us it is impossible for us even to believe without the Spirit.
The age-old problem that continues in our own day is the urge to gain more control over the process. The errors in thought are polarising, but each one seeks a tick box (or, to use the Apostle's language, each returns to the works of the flesh). On one side, an individual must have an emotional experience — overwhelming joy, say — and must have a testimony of what happened. If they can give a testimony of their emotional experience, of how wonderful they felt when the Spirit came, then they tick the box. They must surely have the Spirit. And if they didn't have the experience, then something is wrong.
On the other side, what people experience emotionally counts for nothing, and an individual has to have full understanding — to use their mind, not their emotions — and a testimony free of theological error. If they can do that, then they truly have the Spirit.
Both extremes insist on saying the right words in the right way.
But this is so wrong-headed as to be laughable. We don't expect this in any other relationship. Some people don't get butterflies in their stomach when they see someone they love, yet they may still value the relationship above everything else. Other people do get the butterflies. But we don't use that as a tick box. Relationships are far more varied and gloriously complex than that. Why should we — who are made in the image of God — think that a relationship with God is dramatically different?
The wind blows where it wishes. You hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)
We receive the Spirit when we believe His message of Jesus Christ crucified, when we trust God rather than trusting in doing stuff to manipulate His affection.
And that gives the Christian great benefits — though the benefits may not be what they expected. The Spirit never overpowers people. God never "takes over" an individual and makes them do things as if He were possessing them. But the more we commune with God — the more we spend time with Him, humbly reading the Scriptures and praying to Him, trusting in Him, resting in Him and trying to please Him — the more we become like Him. And this has echoes in any other relationship.
Some people who crave a relationship with Almighty God, and to have His Spirit, spend a lifetime searching for a special experience of God without reading the Scriptures (that is, listening to God's word), or praying to God (that is, talking to God), or trying to please Him — and then wonder why they feel dissatisfied. This is like loving someone without finding out a thing about them, or trying to develop a relationship without ever talking to the person.
So looking back at what God has done in our own lives through Christ crucified — and being aware that bewitchment could be a factor — is important.
However, someone may still be frustrated, thinking that the Galatians' experience was somehow greater than what modern Christians experience — that the difference between being a believer and not being one was more dramatic and more obvious back then in Galatia. "After all," an individual might say, "they experienced miracles. If I experienced a miracle, that would be life-changing. I would love a miracle. It would take away my doubts."
So again Paul asks: does God give you His Spirit and work miracles among you by works of the law, or by hearing and believing?
Does God lavish His Spirit on you and work miracles among you because you practice the law, or because you hear and believe? (Galatians 3:5)
It's such a forceful and logical argument that Paul repeats it. How did the Galatians receive the Spirit and have miracles worked among them — by doing stuff, or by believing what they heard? It's a no-brainer.
So someone might say: if the Galatians had experienced miracles, then Paul was right to chastise them — but what about our situation? Perhaps we don't experience the miracles they did. Someone might argue that if only they experienced the miracles the Galatians did, it would be easier for them to live a life of faith.
This feeling can grow into a deep yearning. It is the idea that if only God would act in some obvious, supernatural way, then one would have more confidence. It is a sentiment that might be true for some individuals, but certainly not for all. Miracles can act as signs, and can generate a lot of interest and excitement, but they do not guarantee faith, or confidence in God. The Pharisees witnessed many outstanding miracles and did not deny that they happened — even though it would have been in their interest to do so. Did they respond in faith? No. They muttered among themselves that His power came from the prince of demons. Hardly an endorsement.
Indeed, many sceptics in Jesus' day scoffed at the miracles He performed, even when they were done right in front of their noses. In John 9, when the Pharisees investigate the miracle of the man born blind, all they want to know is how it was done, not why. After finally convincing themselves that the man really had been born blind, and really could now see, they asked him:
"What did He do to you?" they asked. "How did He open your eyes?" (John 9:26)
They were reaching out for control over the situation. They considered themselves to be in charge. The miracle only entrenched their sceptical outlook. The same psychological process can happen today. Miracles do not "prove" faith.
Indeed, miracles tend to freak out the modern mind. There's a feeling that it might be like the movie Hook. In the film, the grown-up Peter Pan is trying to rediscover his boyhood spirit and his ability to fly. The fairy Tinkerbell flies in at the critical moment. "Peter," she says, "believe in yourself." He closes his eyes and starts to rise.
This is the opposite of what Paul is talking about. Jesus' miracles are gifts given by the Spirit to act as blessings and as signs. They cannot be generated by closing our eyes and intensely trying to "believe," like Peter Pan. One cannot force belief in oneself any more than one can force God to give a gift or to cause a miracle.
Miracles, almost by definition, cannot be manufactured. Those who do claim to manufacture them are engaging in magic. That is: if I perform a special formula at a special time, then I can manipulate hidden forces to produce something extraordinary. If I say this incantation, or perform these actions in these costumes, surrounded by these people, then something incredible will happen. That's magic — not the work of the Spirit. The reformers were definitely onto something when they accused the medieval rituals of exactly this kind of manipulation. There are strong hints of it in the big rallies and meetings where miracles are promised.
In fact, when the people demanded a sign from Jesus, they were trying to manufacture a miracle. Jesus refused. This is because God will never dance to our tune — and we can be very thankful for that. It is a great mercy. When people insist on a miracle, they are often saying, "I am the judge of all things in my life, and You — God — need to prove this message to me." God says, "Trust Me," but those who demand a sign say, "No, no, no. I need proof." This is exactly what the Pharisees were doing when they demanded a sign from Jesus:
Then the Pharisees came and began to argue with Jesus, testing Him by demanding from Him a sign from heaven. Jesus sighed deeply in His spirit and said, "Why does this generation demand a sign? Truly I tell you, no sign will be given to this generation." (Mark 8:11–12)
But though Jesus Christ made Himself nothing and humbled Himself in humanity, He always opposed the proud — and still does. Jesus was meek, but never weak — a concept the proud find troubling.
The miracles Jesus did were all "normalising miracles." That is, they were healings and the casting out of evil. They brought natural order out of chaos; they made things work properly again; they responded to a need. The blind were made to see, the deaf were made to hear, the hungry were fed, the ignorant were taught. They were nothing like the miracles that usually occur in fantasy, myth or science fiction. No one grew angels' wings, slid down a sunbeam, developed the ability to fly, breathed fire or turned invisible. No one used the Holy Spirit to confuse the minds of the weak and say, "These are not the droids you're looking for."
But does Paul's argument apply today? Does it apply to believers in Christ, asking them how they think they received the Spirit, in whom God works miracles?
Miracles do occur today. Any follower of Jesus will tell you that. I can tell you that. Many people have told me of events that occurred to them which they attribute to the work of God — from a direct answer to prayer to providential circumstances. Polite sceptics inwardly smile as these stories are told, because they often involve strange circumstances and miracles of timing. There is always a degree of interpretation in the story, as to whether it was "by God" or "just a coincidence." But the same is true of many of the gospel stories. In one sense, there was nothing miraculous about the huge catch of fish made when Jesus asked Peter to go out into deeper water and drop the nets. No laws of physics were broken. Someone could argue it was just extraordinary timing — that a large shoal of fish happened to swim under the boat at the very moment the nets were down. Was it supernatural, or just a coincidence? One could interpret it either way. Peter saw it as evidence that he was way out of his league. He responded in faith.
Or take the story in John 12. It is recorded that when Jesus was addressing a crowd, a voice came from heaven:
Then a voice came from heaven: "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." The crowd standing there heard it and said that it had thundered. Others said that an angel had spoken to Him. (John 12:28–29)
So even when God is speaking from the sky — a phenomenon some people claim they would really appreciate — individuals can interpret it, and dismiss it, as a natural occurrence. "What are you talking about?" they may laugh. "That was thunder."
The same thing happens today, even with astonishing miracles — the ones I call "MRI miracles." For example, a tumour that disappears overnight. The MRI scan that night shows a tumour. Someone prays over the patient that night. The next day, the MRI shows there is no tumour.
People are amazed by such things, but they can interpret it as "the power of positive thinking," or as part of the body's own natural healing that we don't yet understand, or they simply say, "Wow, that's weird, that's amazing. We can't explain that. Anyhoo, what's for lunch?"
So miracles are gifts from above. And just like ordinary gifts, they can be received with great thanks, praise and gratitude — or they can fail to be recognised as gifts at all, mistaken for "crazy old things" that just happen in this world. It depends on the individual's awareness of what is going on. In this way God is still working His miracles, but most people, to quote John Calvin, are "struck blind in such dazzling theatre." They simply don't see it.
This is why Paul is so amazed: believing people, of all people, should see the significance. We should look back at how God has worked in our lives and see the benefits He has showered down upon us. And this will always drive us back to the greatest act God has ever done for us.
In the Jewish Passover, the family celebrates and remembers the escape from Egypt. The story is recounted: how the angel of death passed over the houses marked with the blood of a lamb on their doors, and how the people left Egypt for the promised land. Thanks is given.
This was an important, God-ordained ritual of remembrance — a remembering of how God saved His people. The Israelites were told to look back and remember how God had saved them.
Jesus took the Passover ritual and transformed it into the remembrance of a greater escape. He broke bread and poured out wine and said, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Christians are people who remember.
We look back at the blessings and the benefits we have known and experienced. We don't shrug our shoulders and think, "That was just stuff that happened."
The Spirit. Miracles.
We remember God's blessings, the miracles He does in our lives, the way He has acted — but above all, we remember Christ crucified.
It is our antidote to bewitchment.