Chapter 2
So there he is — Paul, formerly known as Saul — in Antioch, with his scribe ready to go. The scribe looks up at him, quill in hand. Paul begins his opening remarks.
It is not a gentle beginning. It is different from the rest of his correspondence that has come down to us. He doesn't start with praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, or describe the praiseworthy attributes of his recipients, as he does elsewhere. On this occasion he goes straight to the heart of the issue. It's the sort of letter where, after the first line, you take a breath and think, "This is going to get heavy."
Paul, an apostle—sent not from men nor by man, but by Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised Him from the dead—and all the brothers with me, To the churches of Galatia: (Galatians 1:1–2)
So the Apostle starts in the usual way of ancient correspondence, by introducing himself as the writer — which seems an eminently sensible way to begin a letter. No issue there. It's his so-called credentials that stand out, the ones he adds after his name. He writes that he is an Apostle, which means an emissary, someone who is sent — an ambassador, if you will.
But look at his claim about who sent this ambassador. No mortal man or woman. No group of people. He was sent by Jesus Christ and Almighty God — the God who raised Jesus from the dead. He was a messenger from God. He had a message from the Almighty.
If someone used this kind of bold language today, they would either be forming a short-lived cult or being admitted to a psychiatric hospital. It was no different in the ancient world. Cults and sects sprang up and melted away. One cult in Galatia worshipped the Greek goddess Cybele and encouraged castration as a sign of devotion to the female deity. Cults were part of life. On the other side was insanity, which was also well known. Years after writing this letter, Paul himself was accused of exactly that:
You are insane, Paul! Your great learning is driving you to madness! (Acts 26:24)
— so cried the Roman governor Festus, interrupting Paul's defence.
Paul had always made this claim of divine appointment, and he never once deviated from it. He stood against those who were riled against him and said he had no authority as an ambassador.
His opponents said he didn't speak for God. They had their reasons. "How could he?" they said. "He was never with the other Apostles. He's got muddled. And he pushes things way too far. He's bordering on blasphemy. God would never send such an unimposing babbler. He was either sent by himself, or by another man — or he's stark raving mad."
So Paul claims to be an ambassador sent by God, and his opponents claim he is a wannabe sent by human beings. How can you prove it one way or the other? There are a lot of charlatans out there. There are a lot of ambassadors of insanity, or of Satan. How do you know if someone is telling the truth? How can you tell if someone has actually been divinely appointed?
In a few lines Paul is going to offer up evidence to persuade them that his heavenly credentials are trustworthy. It is important to keep this baseline in mind: Paul is claiming a divine message. He is the ambassador of the Lord Jesus Christ.
And as such, before offering up his evidence, he cannot help slipping the divine message in right at the beginning.
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father. (Galatians 1:3–4)
This is vintage Paul. It is the message that drove him on, and he slips this glorious stuff in all over his correspondence. It's a summary of his burden as an ambassador.
He wishes the Galatians grace and peace.
This is no idle "I hope you are well" politeness. The grace comes from God through the Lord Jesus Christ, and it gives us peace. But the divine plan of grace is described in terms of a rescue operation: God stoops to rescue us from the present evil age. His agent for this operation is the Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus gave Himself up for our sins — and it is this "giving Himself up for our sins" that rescues us from the present evil age.
So already Paul is highlighting that the Lord Jesus Christ is not just an example to us of how to live and how to die. He is not just an extremely good man who espoused a great universal message of wisdom and non-violence. He is not just a wonder-worker of words and actions, nor merely a guide who opens a gate on the path to heaven. He is a Saviour.
Paul will expand on this theme later, but it is important to note that "rescue" is the foundational framework of his message. It is good news not just because it is a blessing, nor merely because it gives hope, but primarily because it rescues.
This point matters, because many people do not see the Christian message in this framework. They do not see it as a rescue operation.
Right from the get-go, Paul has had his critics. In the first century he was accused of being difficult to understand, and mad; twenty centuries later, of being incomprehensible, and flat-out bad. Growing up, I heard him described as harsh and divisive, unloving, even unkind. His pharisaical background and Jewish pedigree have been used as an excuse to blame his so-called legalistic style. But despite this extensive list of unpleasant attributes, there is one thing I have never heard the Apostle Paul accused of: conceit.
This is a little odd, because Paul claimed to carry a message whose content was rather important — a revelation from God, no less. A message so important it was a matter of eternal life and death. Indeed, he was sent, so he says, not by man nor from man, but by none other than Jesus Christ and God the Father.
This is heady stuff. Such knowledge can puff a person up. It could tempt someone to say, as it has tempted many a cult leader, "Come to me, all of you, and I — I alone — will dispense wisdom and knowledge to your sorry, ignorant lives." It can make a person think he knows it all. It can turn a human being into a tyrant.
Not so with the Apostle Paul. He viewed himself as pretty much nothing. At one point he wrote that he was
the least of the apostles and am unworthy to be called an apostle. (1 Corinthians 15:9)
At another time he likened himself to a jar of clay:
We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this surpassingly great power is from God and not from us. (2 Corinthians 4:7)
A jar of clay in the ancient world was eminently disposable. In modern parlance, a polystyrene cup. Imagine likening yourself to a polystyrene cup.
So despite his big claims, no one has ever accused Paul of vanity.
This is why, for Paul's enemies — those who arrived in Galatia after him — a full-frontal assault on his character, painting him as a tyrant or as impossibly vain, was bound to fail. It was patently untrue. The Galatians loved him. They really did.
I can testify that, if it were possible, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me. (Galatians 4:15)
The church loved listening to Paul. Years after he wrote to the Galatians, a church in Troas listened to him literally all through the night until the sun came up. They couldn't get enough of him. Much of his correspondence ends with a long list of greetings to all sorts of people — a sign of how well he knew and loved his co-workers. Indeed, this very letter to the Galatians was sent not from himself alone but from "all the brothers with me," the people he loved. When he was about to leave Ephesus and the congregation realised it was probably the last time they would see him, they began to sob and found it difficult to stop. The Apostle Paul was an almost impossibly great person to have around. Far from being a difficult, intense, crusty man, he was loved — absolutely loved. So it is with all godly people who are filled with the fruit of the Spirit.
But this humility never got in the way of his role. If anyone could claim the burden of knowledge, it was this Apostle.
Ultimately Paul saw himself as a slave — a man who had been bought and was owned. His owner was none other than Jesus Christ. Paul had been given a mission by his master: to take His message to the non-Jewish world. This message is called a gospel, and Jesus Christ had commissioned Paul to carry it. In the ancient world, "gospel" was a word in common use, and not necessarily a Christian one. A gospel was a weighty, portentous, but joyous message, and it implied huge change — change for the better.
As such, Paul was well aware that his message would cause offence, or be misunderstood. He was under no illusions that everyone would dance with joy when they heard it, even though he believed the message was for all. He understood that he would be persecuted. He endured hardship, hunger, shipwreck, isolation, loneliness, death threats and much more — and still he kept going with his mission.
So it is interesting that this humble, patient, thoughtful and articulate man should write such a passionate and intense letter as his correspondence to the Galatians.
But the Galatians had done the one thing guaranteed to stir him into a passion. They had, metaphorically, poked a stick deep into his eye and made him howl. And — of interest to us — the Galatians had done something that people have continued to do down through the ages, including in our own.
They had embraced a change to the message.
The Apostle Paul, the slave of Jesus Christ, the ambassador to non-Jewish people, is gobsmacked.
I am amazed how quickly you are deserting the One who called you by the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— (Galatians 1:6)
Given the twists and turns of Paul's life, I believe it would have taken a lot to astonish him — but the Galatians have managed it. He is amazed. And it's not just that they are deserting his message, but that they are deserting it so rapidly.
In the Old Testament there is a story about the prophet Elisha being hunted by Israel's enemy, the king of Aram. Elisha and his servant wake one day to find their town entirely surrounded by the enemy army. Elisha's servant panics.
"Oh, my master, what are we to do?" (2 Kings 6:15)
It seemed there was no escape. But Elisha is not perturbed. He can see things his servant cannot. So he prays for his servant, that his eyes may be opened:
"O LORD, please open his eyes that he may see." And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw that the hills were full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. (2 Kings 6:17)
King Aram's army was itself surrounded by an overwhelmingly enormous army from God. The servant's eyes were opened to God's reality.
The story continues with surprising twists, but for our purposes, suppose the servant acknowledged that the hills were full of God's spiritual army, praised the Lord for it — and then said to Elisha: "But… what shall we do now? We're trapped! Yes, there are the hillsides of horses and chariots of fire, but we still have to get out of here. Shall we dig a tunnel, or shall we get hold of some weapons and fight our way out? I only hope God will rescue us."
Elisha might look at his servant with incredulity. He might be astonished. Here is God's rescue plan, once hidden but now revealed — which the servant has seen — and yet he behaves as if it is no rescue at all, as if he still has to save himself.
That is an illustration of what is happening in Galatia. This is why Paul is agog. These are people who had understood and embraced God's plan of salvation. God's message had been revealed to them. To return to the analogy of Elisha, they have seen the chariots and horses of fire. Yet despite that understanding, they are being thrown into confusion and are embracing another message.
How has this come about? This is God's message. You would think that God's message would so impress a person that, once it was in them, they would never look back. How can someone who has received the message from God — from the Almighty — through His appointed slave, and reaped the benefits of that message, then drift away from it? Surely there must be something wrong. Could it be the message itself? Could it be a sign that it is not truly from God?
One can agree that something is indeed wrong — but it is not the message. It is other people. There are forces at work to change the message.
Evidently some people are troubling you and trying to distort the gospel of Christ. (Galatians 1:7)
The seemingly impossible has occurred because some people are working hard to undermine it. They are distorting the gospel of Christ, altering the message. And when the message is altered, there are enormous knock-on effects.
It is possible that the people throwing the Galatians into confusion are doing it with the best of intentions. They are saying Paul was partly right, that a few corrections were needed. Paul, however, will respond that "those corrections" actually destroy the message he brought.
Imagine I had a recipe for a custard tart, and someone took that recipe and added half a cup of potting mix — fortified soil for pot plants. It doesn't add anything to the recipe. It completely destroys it. It makes it inedible. To suggest that someone should make that and encourage people to eat it is madness.
Adding something to this message destroys it. Taking something away does the same. Both adding and taking away — to use Paul's word — distort the message. Distorting the gospel doesn't make it slightly less; it destroys it. No wonder Paul was agitated. He will have none of it.
Like any ambassador, Paul knows the message is separate from the speaker. He does not have authority over the message; the message has authority over him. It is not something he can change. It is not something another Apostle, or a distinguished and learned person, can change. It is not something the archangel Gabriel can alter.
But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be under a curse! As we have said before, so now I say again: If anyone is preaching to you a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be under a curse! (Galatians 1:8–9)
So here it is. The gospel is a message — a message that means something. It has articulated content; it is not something vague and generic like "be kind to all" or "Christian values" or "be nice." It is something that can be considered, thought through, argued about, dissected and analysed. And as such, in one sense, it is vulnerable. People can alter it if they don't like it. It can be changed and still be made to look as though it carries God's authority.
To change such a message is a travesty of the highest order. No one has any right to tinker with it and then present it as God's message. As Paul plainly says, the message is not his to alter. If he himself alters it, he should be accursed. Even if a glorious supernatural being from heaven alters it, the verdict would be the same: damnation.
Yet what was happening in Galatia has happened throughout history and is still happening today. Ministers who chuckle at — or are outraged by — the very concept of sin. Pastors who don't think this age is evil and in need of saving, but think it just needs the voice of reason and moderation. People who call themselves Christians yet do not think Jesus Christ has rescued them from anything; for them He is merely the final piece in a self-made jigsaw. Celebrity preachers who, with all the authority of a heavenly being, claim that you come to Christ to be saved from a feeble bank balance. Theologians who find the idea that Christ's death saves us profoundly offensive. "God does not engage in child abuse," I once heard someone say at a Christian gathering.
But before I continue with the finger-pointing, the sobering fact is that we ourselves can be just like the Galatians. We can know God's truth and then alter it to suit ourselves better — and we can do this almost unconsciously, as if under a spell. So, exactly as Paul was writing, we in today's world need to be reasonably sure what this core message actually is, lest we stray. For it is not our message to tinker with. It is God's message — and we risk being under God's curse.
But perhaps it is more than that, as Paul implies in his next sentence. When we wrestle with these weighty issues — sin, salvation, the after-life, "what's it all for?" — we should always ask whose approval we are trying to win. Our own? Other people's? Or the Almighty's?
Am I now seeking the approval of men, or of God? (Galatians 1:10a)
From whom is the ambassador of Jesus Christ seeking approval — human beings, or God? Sometimes it is an ambassador's job to win the approval of the foreign country they are assigned to. They give parties, they take people out, they bestow honour where it is due. They do this because they are representatives. They approach the president or prime minister of that country because they have a message to deliver on behalf of their own. But they never do this at the expense of the country they are from. If any ambassador tried to be so loyal to his host country that he changed the message he had been given, to the cost of his own country, that would be treason.
Paul is seeking God's approval because he is a faithful Apostle. He is saying to the Galatians, "This is the message from God — not that!"
And there are many people who don't like hearing those words. There were such people in Galatia, and there are such people today — people who don't like sticking to the message Paul brings us. And I hope to show that most of us, you and me included, are not exempt from straying.
Or am I striving to please men? (Galatians 1:10b)
If Paul were trying to please people, he would be making his message easier to swallow — as his opponents have done. Clearly, by passionately sticking to his message, he is not trying to please people.
If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ. (Galatians 1:10c)
Are we God-pleasers or people-pleasers? Ultimately we can only be one or the other. To be a God-pleaser means being a servant of Christ.
There is a great pull in our world to please people. God's message can seem exclusive to some and offensive to others. There is a constant temptation to change the message — to say it needs tweaking, or modernising, or to think that no one will embrace it unless we make a few alterations.
And this desire to change the message can work insidiously inside us. We may think we have the message worked out, yet live in a way that contradicts it. As this letter will show, such a mismatch can happen even to Apostles — and if it can happen to an Apostle, it can happen to you and me.
We can thank God that Paul was faithful — that he saw how serious this was, that he saw what was at stake. He didn't go broad and say, "Well, you guys are following Jesus, and that's good enough for me." Nor did he bend his message to avoid conflict. Nor was he concerned about himself. His concern was glorifying the Lord Jesus, and that meant making sure the message of the Lord Jesus was exactly what he had received.
So what is Paul's message? What is it at its most basic? Paul will get to it — but first he has to show the evidence for his credentials.