Justification for sinners and beggars.

Galatians, Part 5: The gospel is a bottomless reservoir from which we are invited to drink “grace upon grace.”

Karl Aspelin, “Luther burns the Papal bull in the square of Wittenberg year 1520”

A version of this article originally appeared on 1517.

As the page turns from Chapter 2 to Chapter 3 of Galatians, there is a sense in which we are finally arriving at Paul’s point. After taking two chapters to establish his apostolic authority as well as to clarify the “truth of the gospel,” he now returns to the matter that instigated this letter in the first place — namely, the problem of the Galatians turning to a “different gospel” (Gal. 1:6). The damage had seemingly already been done thanks to the Judaizers and their “Jesus-Plus” preaching. Consequently, church folk were being deceived and deluded into believing that Jesus’s cross wasn’t enough. But, as Paul has already demonstrated, this is a completely ridiculous notion (Gal. 2:17–21). Now, though, the apostle pivots to address the Galatians directly, unloading on them with a series of penetrating questions that expose their utter foolishness:

O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified. Let me ask you only this: Did you receive the Spirit by works of the law or by hearing with faith? Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh? Did you suffer so many things in vain — if indeed it was in vain? Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing with faith? (Gal. 3:1–5)

Paul, to be sure, was never one to mince words or beat around the bush, and by no means does he do that here. Twice he calls these Galatian believers “foolish,” a term that means “thoughtless,” “senseless,” or, in modern vernacular, “stupid.” “You stupid Galatians! Who has put a spell on you to make you believe this stupidity?!” we might render these words. “What’s gotten into you? What have you been smoking? What have you been drinking? Who have you been listening to?” Paul has zero patience for the gospel of God to be called into question, especially when the ones questioning it are the ones who should’ve known better. Even though the churches in Galatia were mainly Gentile congregations, they had recently been visited by and introduced to the good news through Paul and Barnabas in striking fashion.

Paul alludes to this when he reminds the Galatians that it was “before [their] eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified” (Gal. 3:1). By this, of course, he isn’t referring to the actual crucifixion event. Rather, he suggests that “Christ crucified” was put on display for them through the preaching of the gospel. When Paul later says to the Corinthians that he “decided to know nothing among [them] except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2), that wasn’t a “new conclusion” he had just come up with; that was his mantra and calling card. “Christ crucified” has always been Paul’s message. What’s more, though, we are given a glimpse of the way in which that message was conveyed. To a congregation that wasn’t there for the event of Christ’s crucifixion, Paul was determined to preach in such a way that the awful scene of the cross was brought “before their eyes.” John R. W. Stott comments that:

Only when Christ is “openly displayed upon his cross” is the gospel preached . . . This means that in preaching the gospel we are to refer to an event (Christ’s death on a cross), to expound a doctrine (the perfect participle “crucified” indicating the abiding effects of Christ’s finished work), and to do so publicly, boldly, vividly, so that people see it as if they witnessed it with their own eyes. (74)

This should be true anytime the church gathers. “As for the Galatians, so for us to this day,” comments R. C. H. Lenski, “every gospel sermon placards Jesus Christ as the One crucified” (124). Whenever God’s Word is opened, the good news concerning Jesus’s triumph over sin and death is to be proclaimed as a right-now reality, in the present tense. “What the church has to offer the modern world,” writes Gerhard O. Forde, “is not ancient history but the present-tense unconditional proclamation” (8). Indeed, the gospel is only rightly delivered when the horrors of the cross are not only described historically but also brought before each sinner’s eyes vividly, in the “living present.”

Paul puts the Galatians in remembrance of all this to set the stage for his stinging line of questioning in verses 2 through 5. After they had believed the gospel of the Lord Jesus crucified for them how were they made to possess all of the blessings of the gospel? “Did the Holy Spirit come to dwell in you because of something you did? Because of your ability to keep the law?” the apostle pointedly inquires. The answer is no, of course not. It was more than a little silly, then, to conclude that what was inaugurated by God’s Spirit (through the preaching of God’s Word was now being “perfected” and “completed” by them. But such is the deceptive doctrine of the Judaizers. More to the point, though, this is the deception that’s still wreaking havoc on the church today.

The dichotomy between “faith” and “works” evinced by the apostles remains one of the most polarizing points of friction within the church. At the heart of nearly every scandal and schism in the history of the church is division over this point: How much do our works matter? How is the scale balanced between faith and works? This, to be sure, is a topic that has ripped apart too many congregations to count. How you answer such an inquiry will not only reveal how you understand the gospel but will also reveal how you understand the Christian life as a whole. In the end, you will either be exposed as a Judaizer or a beggar — that is, as a person of works or a person of faith.

Those Judaizing indoctrinators were adamant that works were the deciding factor in whether or not sinners were “justified.” They were beholden to a life lived according to “works of the law.” “Unless you are circumcised, you cannot be saved,” they declared (Acts 15:1), thereby making the gateway to life with God contingent on what sinners did. Paul flatly disagreed, refusing to budge from the position that the works of sinners are merely the byproduct of “the justified life.” In the paradigm of the law and the gospel, sinners are beggars. They have nothing to offer, they can only receive — and when they receive the gospel of “Christ crucified” for them, they are like an empty cup under a running faucet. They are not only filled to the brim, they’re overflowing.

Accordingly, this is how we should understand the role of works and obedience in the “life of faith.” The things we do — our works and obedience — are an overflowing response to what we have been given in and through Christ. Works are never the reason for our right standing with God nor are they the catalyst for the Spirit’s work in us. Our works are the fruit of his work; that’s why they’re called the Fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22–25). The things we do always follow on the heels of the gift of God’s righteousness received by faith in what Christ has done, which is always dispensed to us through God’s Word and the Spirit.

The Judaizers, you see, were confusing categories. They were putting the cart of works before the horse of faith, resulting in a jumbled mess of faith and practice. They were mixing up the “fruit of the faith” with the “root of the faith,” the latter of which is always an objective declaration of what has already been accomplished. Think about your own “life of faith”: How did you first come to know God? Was it through an abundance of things that you did? Did you work your way into right standing with him? Is your performance for God the thing that led to your justification before God? The answer to all of those questions is no, of course. The point is that you are as much a person of faith before as after you are justified, which is when we arrive at Paul’s kill-shot:

Does he who supplies the Spirit to you and works miracles among you do so by works of the law, or by hearing with faith — just as Abraham “believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”? (Gal. 3:5–6)

Invoking the name of Father Abraham is a surefire way to make sure everyone is paying attention, especially when, as Paul attests, that “the patriarch’s patriarch” was justified in the same manner in which every sinner was justified — namely, by believing in God’s Word of Promise. The apostle quotes from Genesis 15, where the Lord repeats his covenant to Abraham regarding his offspring (Gen. 15:2–6). This, of course, is one of the most significant Old Testament texts that demonstrates how justification is not by works but by faith. Abraham believed in God’s Word of Promise, which Paul defines as “the gospel” (Gal. 3:8), and was, therefore, “counted” or “regarded” as righteous in the eyes of God. The righteousness of God was imputed to Abraham by faith alone.

The “nail in the coffin” for the Judaizers, though, is the fact that this declaration from God occurred well before the rite of circumcision was instituted. Those whom the apostle calls “the circumcision party” were not only adding qualifiers and prerequisites to the gospel but also ignoring the clear teaching of the Word of God. Paul doubles down on this point by eviscerating their understanding of Scripture by using more Scripture to prove his point:

For all who rely on works of the law are under a curse; for it is written: “Cursed be everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, and do them.” Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for “The righteous shall live by faith.” But the law is not of faith, rather “The one who does them shall live by them.” Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us — for it is written “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree” — so that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promised Spirit through faith. (Gal. 3:10–14)

Anyone relying on the “works of the law” for their justification is “under a curse.” Why? Because the law demands complete and total “doing.” Living by the law means doing “all the things” (Gal. 3:10; cf. Deut. 27:26). This is the law’s operative framework; it’s all about what you “do” (Gal. 3:12; cf. Lev. 18:5). The law affords no wiggle room, no leniency, and certainly no exceptions. “Do this, or else,” is its manifesto. “If you do this, then you get that; if you don’t do this, too bad, you’re cursed.” The only option, the only recourse and hope for those under such cursed conditions is for the curse to be broken or lifted. This is precisely what the gospel announces — namely, that Jesus has rescued us from the curse “by becoming a curse for us” (Gal. 3:13; cf. Deut. 21:23).

Does that statement shock you? Good, it should. There is no hope of justification apart from the curse being lifted or resolved, which is precisely what the gospel announces was accomplished at that wretched place called Golgotha. Instead of the curse being poured out on the heads of sinners and law-breakers, as it rightly should have, it was poured out on the head of God’s only Son. “Christ is all the sinners in the world by imputation,” attests 17th-century preacher Tobias Crisp, “and through this imputation, all our sins are so done away from us, that we stand as Christ’s own person did stand, and doth stand in the sight of God” (1.10). The perfectly holy Son of God was numbered with the transgressors” in order to make “intercession for the transgressors” (Isa. 53:12). You and I, the cursed ones, are set free from the curse because God’s own Son became the Cursed One for us, bearing the weight of the world’s sin and wrongdoing on his own shoulders. He the Sinless One became sin for you and for me.

On his deathbed, Germany’s feistiest reformer, Martin Luther, is said to have uttered these last words: “We are beggars. This is true.” Within this modest statement is an abstract of Luther’s entire theological convictions. That which undergirds his understanding of the gospel is the recognition that he, along with every sinner, is nothing more than a beggar. “We are beggars,” notes Beeson Divinity School professor and theologian, Timothy George, “needy, vulnerable, totally bereft of resources with which to save ourselves” (105). Yet it is precisely for such cursed beggars and vagabonds that God’s Son had come, assuming their curse and setting them free by offering up his own body on the tree. According to God’s law and God’s gospel, sinners are beggars who can do nothing but receive what he has freely given, which is nothing less than his own righteousness. Commentator John R. W. Stott articulates it like this:

Sinners may be justified before God and by God, not because of any works of their own, but because of the atoning work of Christ; not because of anything that they have done or could do, but because of what Christ did once, when He died. The gospel is not good advice to men, but good news about Christ; not an invitation to us to do anything, but a declaration of what God has done; not a demand, but an offer . . .

[T]he law says “Do this”; the gospel says “Christ has done it all”. The law requires works of human achievement; the gospel requires faith in Christ’s achievement. The law makes demands and bids us obey; the gospel brings promises and bids us believe. (70–71)

The shockingly good news of the gospel invites every sinner to live by faith alone. As the apostle declares, “Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law, for ‘The righteous shall live by faith’” (Gal. 3:11). All we are and all we have is by faith. The good news of free justification in Christ Jesus is not merely the entry point to the Christian life, it is the Christian life. Like the Galatians, we often get confused on this point, falling prey to treating this gospel as nothing more than a ticket into the life of faith. Once we get in, however, the onus is on us to make sure we stay in. “I still have things to do, right? I still have to do my part, right?” To which I would ask the same question that Paul asks: “Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” The gospel is your assurance. The good news of “Christ crucified” is what got you in and it is this same good news of “Christ crucified” that keeps you in. Nineteenth-century Scottish churchman Horatius Bonar puts it like this:

It is “believing” from first to last. We begin, we go on, we end in faith . . . By faith we receive forgiveness; by faith we live; by faith we work, and endure, and suffer; by faith we win the crown, — a crown of righteousness, which shall be ours in the day of the appearing of Him who is our righteousness. (x)

The gospel of “Christ becoming the curse” for you is a bottomless reservoir from which every sinner and beggar is invited to drink “grace upon grace.” And the more we drink from that well, the more we will be filled with the faith that works through love (Gal. 5:6), not out of obligation to a God who might justify us but because we’ve been justified already.

Works cited:

Horatius Bonar, The Everlasting Righteousness: or, How Shall Man Be Just With God? (Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 1993).

Tobias Crisp, Christ Alone Exalted: In the Perfection and Encouragement of the Saints, Notwithstanding Sins and Trials, edited by John Gill, Vols. 1–2 (London: John Bennett, 1832).

Gerhard Forde, Theology Is for Proclamation (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990).

Timothy George, Theology of the Reformers (Nashville, TN: B&H Publishing, 2013).

R. C. H. Lenski, The Interpretation of St. Paul’s Epistles to the Galatians, to the Ephesians, and to the Philippians (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg, 1961).

John R. W. Stott, The Message of Galatians: Only One Way, The Bible Speaks Today Series (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1986).