Laying Out the Evidence

Chapter 3

Paul's opponents in Galatia may well have appeared as very reasonable people. They probably agreed with some — perhaps a lot — of what Paul said. They did not disagree with him on everything. They thought Jesus was the Messiah. They followed Him and acknowledged His supremacy.

"We follow Jesus too!" they may have exclaimed.

They just felt that on one or two matters they knew more than the Apostle. That is, on one or two matters the Apostle to the Gentiles was wrong.

It is a great temptation for us to think the same — as if we, sort of, know more than the Apostle. We may agree with a lot of what he says, but on one or two points he was wrong. In fact, in this modern world, particularly among Christians, we may go further. We may think he has nothing very new to say to us. After all, we have two thousand years of scholarship to draw upon. Surely that counts for something? We know about the ancient world, ancient Judaism, the legal minds of the Pharisees, and modern psychology. We have something over the Apostle, and we can, for example, explain his motivation.

In one sense that's true. Paul was never taught modern physics or critical theory, and he did not know the Americas existed. He never heard a violin play, nor did he have an iPad. He didn't attend a lecture on feminism, and he probably never saw a giraffe. So the temptation is to think that because, in one area, we know more than Paul, then in the area of divine revelation we can go about correcting him.

This is exactly what his opponents in Galatia were doing.

But Paul had something that very few were given — something very important — and he felt compelled to share it. He had a preview of heaven. He knew where everything would end up. The divine plan had been fully — fully — revealed to him. As he writes to the Ephesians:

Surely you have heard about the stewardship of God's grace that was given to me for you, that is, the mystery made known to me by revelation, as I have already written briefly. (Ephesians 3:2–3)

So Paul was given a special revelation — a different kind of revelation from almost all other people. It came directly from God Almighty, and it carried a weighty divine authority.

But this presents Paul with a problem.

How does one convince someone else — anyone else — that the message they are espousing is from the Divine, a revelation from God? And this is true even when, as in Paul's case, the revelation was genuine. It's harder than it may first appear.

This was Moses' problem when Yahweh appeared to him out of the burning bush.

There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a blazing fire from within a bush. Moses saw the bush ablaze with fire, but it was not consumed. (Exodus 3:2)

God told Moses to go to his people, and to Pharaoh, to bring the Israelites out of Egypt. Moses seems to have been extremely alarmed at the appointment. He first stammers to God, asking what name of God he should give the people — which God supplies — and then God reassures Moses that the elders will listen to him and that He will make the Egyptians favourably disposed to the Israelites.

It's not enough.

Then Moses answered, "What if they do not believe me or listen to my voice? For they may say, 'The LORD has not appeared to you.'" (Exodus 4:1)

Good question. Moses was old enough to know how the world works. His past attempts at rescuing his own people had made him a murderer and an outcast. A miraculous conversation with the Almighty did not distract him from the practicalities of human cynicism.

God agrees, and supplies Moses with three miraculous signs to perform before the people (and Pharaoh) to persuade them. Two of the miracles are performed then and there. Moses witnesses them with his own eyes.

This is where Moses begins to show his true colours. Miracles will not be enough.

"Please, Lord," Moses replied, "I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since You have spoken to Your servant, for I am slow of speech and tongue." (Exodus 4:10)

Remember that Moses is speaking to God Almighty, and has just witnessed two outstanding miracles, and still he himself is not persuaded of his ability to persuade others.

It's a big ask.

So in order to persuade the Galatians that his message is indeed from God, Paul has his work cut out for him. How does he approach this? Many people start with signs and wonders to prove their veracity. Not so with Paul. He starts with personal testimony.

For I want you to know, brothers, that the gospel I preached was not devised by man. I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it; rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ. (Galatians 1:11–12)

He didn't make it up! This is an important confession.

It would seem that a lot of people in this modern age have a vague idea that Paul's message was made up — that people back then were somehow more naive and primitive, and more susceptible to crazy or perhaps grief-filled ideas. The theory goes something like this: Jesus dying on the cross was so distressing to His followers that it started a fond memory of His teachings, which over time morphed into a religion.

But the ancients weren't as naive as we think. That idea was already around in Paul's day. People were saying these were "cleverly invented stories" — made up by human beings, and not divine.

In fact, they were more sophisticated than that. It seems they were saying that if Paul was telling the truth that he didn't make it up — and his whole life points to that internal conviction — then Paul himself was honest but misinformed. He got it second-hand from someone else who made it up. They were saying the Apostle's message was borrowed. "He's been tutored by Peter, James and John. He got it from the pillars of the church — that is, second-hand. He doesn't really know everything about this faith." One can imagine them saying insidiously: "Did he spend time with the Lord Jesus Himself during His ministry in Galilee? Was he there at the feeding of the five thousand? Did he see Lazarus raised from the dead? No, he was never there. He's not a foundational member. He's not one of the Twelve. He's just taken this message and bent it to his own crazy views."

Wrong, says Paul. Not wrong about him not being one of the Twelve — but wrong about where he got his message from. He got it by revelation from Jesus Christ Himself.

And as evidence he gives three points. Firstly, he says:

For you have heard of my former way of life in Judaism, how severely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it. (Galatians 1:13)

What happened to Paul? There he is, in Jerusalem, on a rampage against this new faith, dragging men and women out of their homes and throwing them in prison. Leading the charge against Christians, trying to destroy the church. He hears reports that there has been an outbreak of Christians in Damascus, about 200 kilometres away. So he gets his posse together to make the trip to Damascus, to stamp it out and prevent further spread. Here is a powerful young man, leading the charge against Christians as he snakes his way to the Syrian capital.

I was advancing in Judaism beyond many of my contemporaries and was extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers. (Galatians 1:14)

But when he gets to Damascus, he is totally the opposite. He's become a follower of Jesus! Not only that — he starts preaching the very faith he once tried to destroy.

Some of us are very used to this story. Familiarity has softened its shock value, but it is truly extraordinary, and it at least demands some kind of explanation. Sure — people change their views, and people change their minds. People gain faith, and they can lose it. But this back-flip in such a short time frame is almost unprecedented, even for a young man. Imagine a leading young politician — a Democrat in the USA — who leaves New York with a speech in his hand to crush the Republicans in Washington. He hates the Republicans. He thinks their policies will bring the nation down. He has already taken legal action against some of them. He is the poster boy for the Democrats. But the moment he steps into Washington, DC, he confesses he was totally blind, does an about-face, starts praising the Republicans, and joins their party on the very day he arrives.

One would have to ask what on earth happened en route to completely, absolutely and irrevocably change his entire world view.

Paul's reason for this turnabout?

But when God, who set me apart from my mother's womb and called me by His grace, was pleased to reveal His Son in me so that I might preach Him among the Gentiles, I did not rush to consult with flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to the apostles who came before me, but I went into Arabia and later returned to Damascus. (Galatians 1:15–17)

God revealed His Son in him. Paul not only met the risen Christ on the road to Damascus; his message was revealed to him as well.

Such a turnaround was bound to cause some upheaval, and that is exactly what happened to this fledgling Apostle. His immediate response was not to consult anyone. Instead he went to Arabia. Some have speculated that it was in Arabia that Paul was able to absorb the full revelation in all its infinite outworkings, and this does not seem unreasonable. A man needs a little space to figure things out. But Paul is adamant: he didn't work this out with any person, only with the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Fast forward three years, and Paul is preaching the message. He appears fully immersed in God's plan of salvation. He hasn't consulted anyone who might teach him about this faith. He has yet to meet the other Apostles. If he didn't consult anyone, where did he get the message from? How did it unfold in him? How did the Apostle Paul become a Christian? What caused the turnaround?

Paul's next point is when he does finally meet the Apostles.

Only after three years did I go up to Jerusalem to confer with Cephas, and I stayed with him fifteen days. But I saw none of the other apostles except James, the Lord's brother. I assure you before God that what I am writing to you is no lie. (Galatians 1:18–20)

So finally Paul gets to meet the founding Apostles — though he only touches base with two of them. Paul recognised that he was an Apostle abnormally born. He didn't follow the normal path of the other Apostles. In this sense his critics were correct: he wasn't part of the Lord Christ's inner circle when Jesus walked the earth. So Paul came down a very different road to being an Apostle — but this did not give him a licence to be a maverick. Like all the Apostles, he was a slave of Jesus, and like all of God's people, he was a team player. The Apostles worked together, and this outsider needed to touch base with the team. He needed to get acquainted with the others.

It seems to have been a whistle-stop tour. Fifteen days may sound like a long time, but considering what was at stake, it was very brief — and Paul's point is that two weeks is hardly long enough to obtain the whole counsel of God. This trip was more a "get to know you" gig than a teaching one. Imagine a student going to Cambridge to learn and spending only two weeks there. That student could hardly say they "studied at Cambridge" with any integrity. Sure, they visited — but what could they absorb in two weeks?

It is often said of chess that a child can learn it but it takes a lifetime to master. So too with God's message. A small child can understand it, but to work through all its ramifications and outpourings takes a lifetime. It is ridiculous to think that two weeks with the Apostle Peter is somehow long enough to pass on this great plan of salvation. Paul did not get it from Peter. Nor did he get it from the founding churches in Judea, who were personally unknown to him. They only praised God that the man who had tried to destroy the faith was now preaching it.

Which brings us to the final point.

Fourteen years later I went up again to Jerusalem, accompanied by Barnabas. I took Titus along also. I went in response to a revelation and set before them the gospel that I preach among the Gentiles. But I spoke privately to those recognized as leaders, for fear that I was running or had already run in vain. (Galatians 2:1–2)

So fourteen years after his meeting with Peter, and after his trip to Galatia, Paul goes to Jerusalem. He goes not because he is summoned, nor out of any pressure. He goes because of a revelation — because God told him to. And this time Paul brings his mates with him: the ever-faithful Barnabas, and Titus. (Cue exciting, ascending orchestral chord progression.)

It's a long way by foot from Antioch to Jerusalem. It leaves a lot of time for talking and thinking. Did they have any concerns or worries about the meeting? It seems they did. Paul was worried that he had run his race in vain. He was keen to present his message to those in Jerusalem to see whether it matched theirs. So he set before them the gospel he had preached to the Gentiles.

If it didn't match, then something was very wrong somewhere.

Paul didn't seem to be the sort of person to shy away from a hard conversation when one was needed. But to bring Titus with him to Jerusalem was taking things to the next level. This wasn't a case of "do my words match your words" — it was "let's see if your words match your actions." Taking Titus along was an "in your face" gospel presentation.

So what was so special about Titus? And why did he have the potential to make such a stir simply by coming along? It seems that though Titus was a Christian leader, destined to have a book of the Bible named after him, he was a Greek, not a Jew — and as such, he wasn't circumcised.

The Jews quite rightly considered themselves God's people. Back in the ancient world they didn't rub shoulders with non-Jews, whom they considered outside of God's people. They didn't eat with them. They didn't associate with them. When God asked Simon Peter to go to the house of Cornelius — a non-Jewish Roman centurion — and stay with him, that was a big challenge to the Apostle. But God's message was for all, and that included non-Jews. The idea was so new to Peter that God gave him a vision and miraculous circumstances to help him come around:

"I now truly understand that God does not show favoritism, but welcomes those from every nation who fear Him and do what is right." (Acts 10:34–35)

He got it — eventually (he needed the same vision three times). The gospel is for all. This was revolutionary in the ancient world. It was almost incomprehensible that a non-Jew would be accepted by God as fully as a Jew — as though a Roman citizen and a barbarian could stand on the same footing. Yet it was preached with increasing wonder and praise to God. The gospel is for all.

So far, so good. Paul was not worried about that development. After all, it was his job to preach to the Gentiles.

But the question was this: did those non-Jews who were now welcomed into faith in Christ have to follow Jewish ways? Did they have to circumcise their boys, avoid pork, keep the sabbath, and follow the rest of the Jewish law? This might well be a searching question for someone whose whole life — whose whole existence — was wrapped up in such belief. And for most Jewish converts to Christ, this was the sticking point. Many of those with a Jewish background felt that, on balance, it would be better to follow the law. For some, it just seemed safer.

This "being on the safe side" was more literal than many of us may imagine. The Romans had given a special dispensation to the intransigent Jews: they were not required to worship the Emperor. Everyone else was. If you didn't, that was considered treason, punishable in the end by death. So if you followed Christ and also kept Jewish customs, you could easily be seen as a strange Jewish sect and be included in Rome's dispensation, since you were basically Jewish. But if you did not follow Jewish customs, and said you followed King Jesus, that was perceived as a threat to the Empire. You were definitely not on the safe side.

Surely everything pointed to following Jewish ways.

But the Apostle Paul — the Apostle to the Gentiles — was firm in his opinion. No! Absolutely not. Paul will go on to say in this letter that faith in Christ and trusting in His death do not require any other behaviour or rituals for salvation. Rather, a change of behaviour is the result of faith in Christ.

One could not overemphasise how extraordinary this idea was, and still is. Following the logic, Paul is saying that for salvation it does not matter how good we are — how much great stuff we do in this world, how many rituals we follow, whether we are a very good rich man or a top teacher in Israel.

And the opposite is also true. For the hope of salvation, it doesn't matter how bad we are — how much bad stuff we've done in this world, how many rituals we've ignored, whether we are a money-grabbing, traitorous tax collector or a woman who has had five husbands. Our salvation and our relationship with God depend on the Almighty and what He has done in Christ. Our first step of faith is trusting what the Lord Jesus Christ has done.

On a number of occasions people have said to me that they "hope they've done enough to earn their place in heaven." This kind of talk was the very thing the Apostle Paul was passionately arguing against. Lose this talk about "earning." Having a right relationship with God starts with trusting Him in what He has done in Jesus Christ — specifically His death on the cross — and understanding what that means. People do not have to follow the Jewish law.

Such ideas were revolutionary, and when understood, they still are today. Back in Paul's day, they were incendiary.

Some were appalled. On hearing this, blood would have drained from their faces. Their hands would have covered their mouths. Anger would have risen up in them. How could two thousand years of history — from Abraham, Moses and the prophets — be seemingly swept aside? How could the Jewish law be made obsolete? Such talk was making a mockery of Scripture. As a matter of principle, the law must be upheld. It had history, tradition, Scripture, reason and safety all on its side.

This is what the "agitators" in Galatia were preaching. Their gospel — the "another gospel which is really no gospel at all" — was one that included keeping the law. It was the false gospel that, to Paul's astonishment, the Galatians had taken on board. There was a similar crowd in Jerusalem, whom Paul describes as "false believers that had infiltrated our ranks to spy on the freedom we have in Christ." This is the crowd adding potting mix to the custard. They were adding stuff to the message.

Back to Titus.

He wasn't a Jew. He was a Greek. He didn't follow the Jewish law, and he wasn't circumcised. These were all things that formerly would have made it completely unacceptable for him to receive a warm welcome from Jewish people — let alone share a meal with Jewish believers in the Holy City. And here he is, walking down the road to Jerusalem to join a crowd of circumcised, formerly devout Jews who now call themselves brothers — followers of Christ. And the big question on Paul's mind is: will they meet with Titus? Will they accept him, or will they require him to follow the Jewish law before they will eat with him? Had Paul run his race in vain?

Yet not even Titus, who was with me, was compelled to be circumcised, even though he was a Greek. (Galatians 2:3)

What is Paul's point here? He is saying that his gospel and the other Apostles' gospel agree. They match. There was no need to alter a thing.

But as for the highly esteemed—whatever they were makes no difference to me; God does not show favoritism—those leaders added nothing to me. (Galatians 2:6)

So Paul is not "having a go" at his fellow Apostles. He is not saying, "I don't care about those guys — those super-apostles. They can think what they like." What he is saying is that, in this situation, being held in high esteem does not give anyone special status in understanding and proclaiming the basic message. When the basic message is being altered, their status doesn't matter. It makes no difference. In this way God shows no favouritism. Recall Paul's words in chapter one: "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!"

And those highly esteemed leaders added nothing to his message. Nothing was added. Nothing was changed. In fact, with regard to Paul, "the highly esteemed" went further:

On the contrary, they saw that I had been entrusted to preach the gospel to the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been to the circumcised. For the One who was at work in Peter's apostleship to the circumcised was also at work in my apostleship to the Gentiles. And recognizing the grace that I had been given, James, Cephas, and John—those reputed to be pillars—gave me and Barnabas the right hand of fellowship, so that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the circumcised. They only asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do. (Galatians 2:7–10)

So Paul's evidence is threefold:

He didn't talk to anyone, or consult anyone, about the message on the road to Damascus. What brought about the change?

Three years later he spoke to Peter — but that was only a quick trip, and could not have amounted to anything significant beyond getting to know him personally. So where did he get the message from?

Fourteen years later he met the leaders, taking an uncircumcised Greek with him. They welcomed Titus and added nothing to his message. His message and their message matched. They acknowledged his special role to preach to non-Jews. Indeed, the only difference was that he would go to the non-Jews and they to the Jews. The only thing they asked was that he remember the poor. No arguments. No divisions.

Paul's message from God was not merely similar to Peter's; it was exactly the same.

Is this the talk of a mad man or a cult leader? Can anyone imagine a mad man checking his message with a large group of others fourteen years later? Or a cult leader checking anything with anyone?

Paul's evidence is anchored in the messy world of real life. What Paul was writing was recent history that anyone could check up on. The Apostles and others involved were travelling around the ancient world. It would not take long for the truth to come out if Paul were making this stuff up. Likewise, it would not take long to corroborate that everything Paul relates as evidence actually happened. (A few years later, this is exactly what Luke — the Gospel writer — did.)

He didn't make it up. The message he received wasn't from the other Apostles — yet it matched theirs exactly.

But Paul is not finished. He will next relate a story in which the whole gospel, and the future history of the world, hinged on a single confrontation between himself and Simon Peter.^[1]