TELL ME, YOU who want to be under the law, are you not aware of what the law says? 22For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by the slave woman and the other by the free woman. 23His son by the slave woman was born in the ordinary way; but his son by the free woman was born as the result of a promise.
24These things may be taken figuratively, for the women represent two covenants. One covenant is from Mount Sinai and bears children who are to be slaves: This is Hagar. 25Now Hagar stands for Mount Sinai in Arabia and corresponds to the present city of Jerusalem, because she is in slavery with her children. 26But the Jerusalem that is above is free, and she is our mother. 27For it is written:
“Be glad, O barren woman,
who bears no children;
break forth and cry aloud,
you who have no labor pains;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband.”
28Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. 29At that time the son born in the ordinary way persecuted the son born by the power of the Spirit. It is the same now. 30But what does the Scripture say? “Get rid of the slave woman and her son, for the slave woman’s son will never share in the inheritance with the free woman’s son.” 31Therefore, brothers, we are not children of the slave woman, but of the free woman.
Original Meaning
THIS MOST INTERESTING “use” of the Old Testament forms Paul’s final and, from his view, climactic argument for his case against the Judaizers. The latter thought God’s work with Gentiles was incomplete if it did not have both a component of trust in Jesus Christ and of commitment to the Mosaic law. Paul contends that acceptance with God involves only the component of Jesus Christ. The time of Moses is passé.
But, he argues in this last argument, if one reads Scripture “allegorically,” one will see that the stories of Abraham-Sarah-Isaac along with the stories of Abraham-Hagar-Ishmael teach the point he has been making. God’s way is through promise, not through the “flesh.” This final argument from the law (i.e., the Pentateuch) complements his previous three arguments: from Scripture texts (3:6–14), from covenants (vv. 15–25), and from sonship (3:26–4:20). As well, Paul anchors his argument in the patriarch Paul thinks is paramount: Abraham, not Moses.
Some scholars have observed that ending a discussion with a “fancy allegory” was highly recommended by some skilled debaters in the ancient world. By returning to the method of beginning with a question (as he started the section at 3:1–5), Paul allows the readers of his letter to “figure it out themselves.” His “allegorical story” urges them to read the story themselves, figure out its meaning, and then apply the lesson to themselves. This is rhetorically sound.1 Furthermore, ending an address with an illustration has commended itself as a most profitable way of closure from time immortal.
The passage divides itself neatly. (1) The Question (v. 21): Do you really know what the law says? (2) The Biblical Material (vv. 22–23). What the law says is now stated: Abraham’s relationship with two women form the basis of how the whole law is constructed. That construction involves either “promise” or “flesh” (NIV: “ordinary way”). (3) The Interpretation (vv. 24–27): Abraham’s two women, Hagar and Sarah, correspond to two covenantal arrangements with God. One is a promise covenant (Sarah-heavenly Jerusalem-freedom), while the other is a “flesh” covenant (Hagar-law-slaves-earthly Jerusalem). (4) The Application (vv. 28–31): those who are being persecuted now correspond to those who were being persecuted then. Since those “then” were the sons of promise, those who are being persecuted now likewise are “sons of promise.”
While this paragraph is not hard to interpret, it is hard to figure out how Paul got so clever to find this allegory.2 It is easiest perhaps to make two lists of correspondences, lining up the person or thing under one covenant with its “antitype” in the other.3 Some correspondences are not explicitly stated, and so I have had to suggest them. What is not stated but what is clearly implied is that Paul is on Sarah’s side and the Judaizers are on Hagar’s.
LAW | CHRIST | |
Abraham | ||
Hagar Covenant | Sarah Covenant | |
Ishmael (”flesh”) | Isaac (”promise”) | |
Persecutor | Persecuted | |
Children-Slaves | Children-Free ones | |
Mount Sinai | (Mount Zion? Golgotha? Heaven?) | |
Earthly Jerusalem in slavery | Heavenly Jerusalem in freedom | |
Judaizers | Paul | |
Old Covenant | New Covenant |
Before we expound this text, it might be good for us to examine whether this is an allegorical interpretation or a piece of typological interpretation. Definitions are critical here and, I suppose, the final difference is not that great for determining meaning. But it is worth our while to see if Paul is seeking hidden meaning (allegory) or simple correspondences that occur according to God’s plan of redemption (typology).4
H. D. Betz has, I think, offered the best definitions I have seen for these two terms.5 Allegory: “allegory takes concrete matters mentioned in Scripture and tradition (mythology) to be surface appearance or vestiges of underlying deeper truths which the method claims to bring to light.” Typology: “Persons, events, and institutions of Scripture and tradition are taken as prototypes of present persons, events, and institutions, which are explained as their fulfillment, repetition, or completion within a framework of salvation history.” Betz concludes that Paul’s method in verses 21–31 is a mixture of these methods of Bible study. While Paul clearly emphasizes correspondences (typology), he may hint that such is the deeper meaning of the Old Testament narratives (allegory). I agree with Betz that it is probably too restrictive to Paul’s method to limit it either to allegory or typology, though the emphasis ought to be given to the typological. What we do know is that Paul’s approach to the Old Testament was revolutionized through his Damascus Road encounter with Christ. From that moment on, he learned to reread the Jewish Bible in light of its fulfillment in Christ. His reading of the Bible is “Christocentric” through and through.
It is just possible, though we must guess at it, that Paul’s use of the allegory here was determined by a similar appeal on the part of the Judaizers to Abraham’s son Ishmael, who was one of the fountains of the Gentiles. They may have argued that Abraham’s descendants were his “fleshly” descendants, namely Jews, and that the Galatians then needed to become Jews. Paul counters that Abraham’s true “fleshly” descendants are actually in the line of Hagar and Ishmael, not Abraham. The real “seed” of Abraham is Christ and his people.6
The question (v. 21) If Paul is indeed responding to the Judaizers’ own use of the Sarah-Hagar story, what he is doing here is setting out the “real meaning” of the story by showing that Hagar is connected in the Old Testament with “flesh” and that “flesh” is opposed to Spirit. Those who wish to be “under the law” (live according to the Mosaic law in such a way that Christ is eclipsed) need to learn to read the law in light of what God has done in Christ.
The biblical material (vv. 22–23) Paul alludes here to texts in Genesis 16, 21, and 25. There we learn that Sarah’s frustration over not having children led her to encourage Abraham to have children through her servant, Hagar, a custom that was apparently acceptable at that time (cf. 30:3–13). She had a son named Ishmael, but Hagar herself became disrespectful of Sarah; thus, Sarah punished her. Hagar fled Sarah’s anger, though she eventually returned. Ishmael, as promised by God (16:12), was disliked by the descendants of Sarah, departed from living with them, lived in the wilderness of Beersheba and Pharan (21:14–21), and eventually became the titular head of the Arabs.
Paul fastens his attention on (1) the two women, describing one as the “slave woman” and the other as the “free woman” (which fits his polemical agenda), and (2) the births of the two boys—one in the “ordinary way” and one “as the result of a promise.”7 Sarah’s encouragement of Abraham is considered in the Old Testament as “unbelief” and by Paul as “fleshly.” This latter sense is not fleshly in the sense of “lust” but in the sense of “not living according to the promise of God” to form a nation from him (Gen. 12:2–3).
The interpretation (vv. 24–27) As we diagrammed above, these two women correspond to two covenants. Hagar is in the covenant established on Mount Sinai (the place of giving the law) and her children are all slaves (the state of those who live under the law; cf. 3:26–4:7). Jerusalem corresponds to this Mount Sinai, for since its inhabitants live under the law, its people are slaves. Such an association would have been shocking to the Judaizers and to all Jews. To think that Paul would say that those who “obey the law” are for that very reason in the line of Ishmael! Surely this was more than they were used to hearing:
Hagar → Ishmael → Mount Sinai’s law → Jerusalem → Slave inhabitants!
This was a major revolution on how to read one’s past.
But Paul goes on. Sarah’s seed has a covenant established in the “heavenly Jerusalem.” The children of the “barren woman” is from Genesis 11:30, where Sarah is described as “barren.” But this Sarah is connected to Isaiah 54:1 by the word “barren” (cf. also Isa. 51:2). In 54:1 we have promises of God that he would restore Zion. Thus, Isaiah is predicting the future Jerusalem. In fact, by associating their being the true Jerusalem in the sense of fulfilling 54:1, Paul is saying that those who believe in Christ are living in the new era, the era of fulfillment. They are “more” numerous, meaning that God has blessed them more.
The application (vv. 28–31) “Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise.” Here Paul makes his application to the Galatian situation. He does so in a most interesting way, again arguing from experience: The way the two boys treated each other also corresponds to the present day. Just as Isaac was persecuted by Ishmael,8 so “believers in Christ” are persecuted by the “Moses plus Christ Judaizers.”9 Put differently, you can figure out whose side you are on by figuring out who is being persecuted and who is persecuting. The persecutors are wrong (1:13, 23) and the persecuted are right. What is the solution? As Sarah expelled Hagar and her son (Gen. 21:10), so the Galatian believers ought to expel the Judaizers. This ought not to be taken as a broadside against all Jews and against all of Judaism. It is a particular comment directed at a specific group of people: the Judaizers, who were trying to impose the law of Moses on Gentile converts.
The conclusion Paul draws skips from verses 28–29 to verse 31 (v. 30 being a kind of “pastoral exhortation”): since we are the persecuted, we are “children of the free woman” and not sons of the “slave woman.” This means that the Judaizers are wrong in their insistence that the law must be adopted in order to become a “son of Sarah.”
Bridging Contexts
IT IS PROBABLY easiest to begin with Paul’s method of interpretation because that method is what gets him to his conclusions. We have noted his conclusions over and over (acceptance by faith, not by conforming to the law of Moses). What changes here is Paul’s method. The apostle interprets Scripture in a way that is most unlike what we are taught to do. Can we do what Paul does here?
Our usual pattern of interpreting Scripture is to begin with discovering the meaning of a text in its context and then to proceed to its application in our context. In essence, our procedure is to “fuse contexts,” to put together the ancient world and our world by importing the message of the ancient text into our world. John Stott describes the task of interpreting the Bible, applying it to our world, and preaching it as one of “bridge building.”10 We are taught to hold the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other, to grasp the timelessness of the gospel together with the timeliness of its relevant applications, or to read the languages of the Bible and speak the languages of our culture.
The foundation for this approach—and this is the procedure of this series of commentaries—is first to examine the text in its context. We begin with exegesis of words, of phrases and clauses, of sentences, of paragraphs, and of biblical books in their respective contexts. We cannot bring forward to our world a message until we have found the message in the ancient texts.
But this is exactly what Paul is not doing. The original context is neglected for, so far as we know, the original Sarah and Hagar did not stand for covenants. How do we respond? With one of three possibilities: we are wrong and Paul is right; Paul is wrong and we are right; or it is not a matter of “right or wrong” but simply a procedure that we no longer use and one that Paul used only rarely, fully aware that what he was doing was not “exegesis,” and only for a specific reason.
Are we wrong in pursuing the “original meaning” of a text? I think not. The foundation for the quest for original meaning (call it the “historical aspect of exegesis”) is our respect for God’s Word given in space and time, our respect for what God said then.11 This historical aspect ties us into “what was actually said and what actually happened” and gives us a standard for measurement. Without this historical aspect, there are no controls over what the gospel is and what should be said in the name of God. If the text means whatever anyone wants it to mean, then it has no meaning for everyone; it has only meaning for individuals. So I am fully persuaded that we are not wrong. But neither am I persuaded that Paul was wrong.
The third option is best. Paul was doing something here that was acceptable for his age, he was aware of what he was doing, and he knew he was doing it for a specific context. Furthermore, what he was doing is not recommended for us if we are seeking original meaning. If, as many scholars today think, Paul was simply turning a Judaizing argument on its head, then it becomes completely clear that Paul was not doing something on his own initiative. To use the words of 2 Corinthians 11, Paul was “playing the part of the fool”; he was “playing their game,” and he did it better. They had started the problem by saying a true child of God had to be Jewish, and they appealed to Abraham. They also said the line of Gentiles goes back to Ishmael, not Isaac. So Paul, by investigating the matter more seriously, showed that Ishmael was the “son of slavery.” Consequently, those who adhered to the slavery of the law were following in the tradition of Ishmael. True children of God are in the line of Sarah. If, as I say, Paul was responding to this sort of situation, then we have no problem at all.
Furthermore, it seems likely to me that the rarity of this kind of procedure in Paul (cf. elsewhere at 1 Cor. 9:9–10; perhaps at 1 Cor. 10:1–11) shows that he knew it was a departure from the normal rules of interpreting the Bible. Frequently, Paul interprets the Bible in a way consistent with our “historical aspect,” if we leave out of the question our concerns with tracing background first (which we need to do because we live two thousand years or more later). Paul sought to understand a text in the original languages (either Hebrew or Greek) and according to the normal rules of grammar and syntax. But here he dabbles for the moment in a procedure that his opponents had used and one that was “in vogue” at his time.
I am of the view, then, that what Paul does here is not wrong; but neither are we wrong in contending that the “historical aspect” of interpretation is fundamental to proper study of the Bible. Paul did something that we cannot really imitate and in a context that is not ours. On the other hand, it is not wrong for us to relate the gospel by using the figures of the Old Testament, as long as we do not contend that such is the original meaning. I have frequently heard sermons and Bible studies based on Old Testament texts that, after restating the original meaning and context, said almost nothing about original meaning but that still spoke to me about what God wanted of me. To be sure, sometimes these well-meaning folks thought they were doing exegesis, and they were wrong. Nonetheless, these sermons simply used an Old Testament figure and the narrative about him or her in order to restate the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Such “restatements” are far less frequent today than they were twenty years ago because church attendees today do not know their Bibles as well as people did twenty years ago. Allusions to Old Testament figures are not given as much because neither the preachers nor the listeners have immersed themselves deeply enough in the pages of the Old Testament. How many in our churches today would pick up immediately on the implications of names or stories like those of Ichabod, Ehud, Hezekiah, or Hosea? What if I were to say that Paul responded to the Galatian defection the way Eli and his daughter-in-law responded to the messenger and pronounced the districts of Galatia to be inhabited now by Ichabods (read here 1 Sam 4:1–22)?
I see no reason why we cannot make allusions like these, allusions that restate the message of the gospel in terms of Old Testament figures and events. There is no reason, so far as I am concerned, why Christians cannot express the gospel by using the characters and events of the Old Testament. This is, in effect, a retelling of an Old Testament narrative in terms of the Christian gospel. Thus, I see no reason why we cannot find analogies to the gospel in Old Testament stories as long as we are aware that what we are doing is not historical exegesis but application and rereading.
A second issue here to discuss is Paul’s assumption that those who are in the right are the ones who are being persecuted (vv. 28–31). Is this always the case? The answer to this question is simple, though difficult to work out in actual living. After all, persecutors are not always wrong and the persecuted are not always right. But more often than not in Paul’s day, those who were doing the persecuting were wrong and those who were getting persecuted were right. This led to his general assumption that the persecuted were on God’s side. But before we can move this idea that the persecuted are right, we have to perform several steps. First, we need to sketch the context of this teaching12 and understand its overall thrust; then we can find comparable “persecutions” in our world.
We think immediately of Daniel’s three friends, who resisted the attempt of King Nebuchadnezzar to make everyone bow down before his idol. They were thrown into a fiery furnace, but God delivered them (Dan. 3). Later Daniel himself was thrown into a lion’s den for praying to the God of Israel; once again, God delivered him (Dan. 6). Others suffered, not only for their life of obedience, but also for their fearless prophecies and warnings (cf. 1 Kings 18; 22:13–28; Jer. 26:20–24). One major book of the second century B.C. was dedicated to the heroic efforts of the martyrs (1 Maccabees). We find a veritable table of martyrs and their sufferings in Hebrews 11:32–38: these things they suffered because of their faithfulness to God.
Jesus himself was the prototypical martyr of God. His enemies tried to silence his preaching (Luke 4:29) and find fault with his practice or teachings (Mark 11:27–33; 12:13–17, 18–27, 28–34). His crucifixion was seen by outsiders as the moment when he was finally put away; it was seen by God as the act whereby he brought those outsiders near. Jesus said that those who are persecuted are blessed by God (Matt. 5:10–12) and that those who were in the line of the prophets would be treated just as poorly (23:33–39). This reflected also the experience of Jesus and the early churches (Acts 4:1–22; 5:17–42; 6:9–15; 7:51–8:3; 9:1–2, 23, 29; 12:1–5). Paul too had many experiences of persecution (cf. Acts 13:8, 45, 50; 14:2, 4–7, 19; 16:19–34; 17:5–9, 13; 18:6, 12–17; 19:9, 13–16, 23–41; 21:27–28:28) and even listed them (2 Cor. 11:23–27). He is of the same view as the others: those who follow Jesus Christ will suffer persecution (2 Tim. 3:12). Peter too warned about impending persecution (1 Peter 3:8–17; 4:12–19), and James revealed that some Christians were being economically persecuted (James 5:1–6). The book of Revelation is a series of pictures that counter the evil of the world with God’s vindication of his people and making all things right (Rev. 7:14–17; 19:1–22:6).
So to understand this assumption on the part of Paul, we must understand its context. The context was one of Christianity being right, of Judaism and the Roman empire in general being irritated over Christianity and its messengers, of various local groups persecuting individual Christians, and of Christians perceiving that they were being persecuted because they were Christians. Michael Green, in his masterful study of evangelism in the early churches, says it well:
At whatever level in society it was attempted, evangelism in the early church was a very daunting undertaking. It was a task involving social odium, political danger, the charge of treachery to the gods and the state, the insinuation of horrible crimes and calculated opposition from a combination of sources more powerful, perhaps, than at any time.13
This was their context. How did they respond?
Their successful strategies of “coping” with persecutions were rooted in several complementary ideas: (1) that Christ was persecuted; (2) that God’s messengers were persecuted all along for their proclamation of his message; (3) that God’s people have frequently suffered the wrath of ungodly people because they are faithful to God’s will; and (4) that God will eventually vindicate his people by making things right, both by his own action of establishing justice and by raising his people from among the dead. The early churches coped with opposition because they had God’s mind on what was going on. They feared God, not people; they knew this life was not all; they took courage from Jesus’ example and from the many who were opposed in the life of the church.
Contemporary Significance
I WANT TO look here at the theme of persecution. How do we cope with opposition to the truth of the gospel, whether as general unbelief or as overt hostility to the one relating the truth of the gospel? In our passage, as we have seen, Paul appealed to persecution as part of the history of God’s faithful people, and therefore it could be used as a test of one’s faithfulness. Can we use this today?
First, we need to define what “persecution” is. Persecution is opposing a Christian for either obeying God or for declaring God’s will and truth. We are not talking about the financial struggles of the wealthy in a materialistic society nor about a flat tire on the way to work that cuts into a person’s plans for the day; neither are we talking about adolescents struggling with parents or parents being disappointed when their children do not attain the status the parents desired. While all these intrusions in life have their part to play in the development of Christian character, these are not persecutions. One quick look at the events referred to in the paragraphs above on the biblical teaching on persecution will quickly prevent the reader from thinking about persecution as such mundane things as struggles with adolescents. We treat with disrespect our Christian brothers and sisters who are experiencing genuine persecution when we class our “flat tires” with their being run from town, being fired, and being killed—for the sake of the gospel.
Here is our problem: there are many Christians today who live in a country that is not overtly hostile toward Christianity or toward the proclamation of the gospel. One can attend Christian grade schools without social hassle, attend a Christian college without social reprisal, marry a Christian, and then carry out a calling in the context of a Christian institution. These kinds of people may never suffer persecution in their life. For these people, the message of Paul that assumes the persecuted are in the right is almost totally irrelevant, and we need to admit it. For such people, learning about persecution may be encouraging, and it may provide for them categories for coping if they ever encounter persecution. For them one of Paul‘s last statements is simply not a part of their experience and therefore probably not accurate: those who follow Jesus Christ will suffer persecution (2 Tim. 3:12). In my view, it is indeed theoretically possible to follow Christ and not suffer persecution.
Paul is not wrong, however. For we find that the context of the Bible and the social situation in which he spoke these words show them to be a general truth that may not be true in every imaginable situation. But I also find that while it is “theoretically possible” to follow Christ and not be persecuted, it is indeed rare. So while it is possible for Paul’s teachings and assumptions to be practically speaking irrelevant, it is more than likely that these teachings are not irrelevant and that those who follow Christ will find the message of the Bible on persecution practical.
If we pursue Christ in the realities of our world, we will quickly discover that there are types of persecution awaiting followers of Christ. These persecutions will confirm Paul’s assumption that the persecuted are right. Where will we find these? I would like to suggest that, at the general level, the Zeitgeist
(or “spirit of the age”) is against the truth of the gospel. Just thinking about our society makes one think of “pluralism” and “the gospel of toleration.” Both of these concepts are directly contrary to the truth of the gospel. Both are against any concept of “absolute truth.” If pluralism means there are “plural options” in the pursuit of right and wrong, in the pursuit of the good life, and in the pursuit of final acceptance with God, then the message that Jesus Christ is God’s only agent for salvation will clash with pluralism, and such clash may lead to persecution. If toleration is the keynote of social, political, and religious policies, then it becomes clear that Christians face a stacked deck. While they may be loving, they do not agree that toleration is the keynote, nor do they think that tolerating sin and false truth claims is proper.
In other words, there is a general conflict of worldviews when it comes to a Christian and a non-Christian in our modern world. While we cannot enter here into a description of the “world” in Pauline thought, it is instructive to remember that the entire Bible witnesses to the notion that the world is opposed to the gospel as darkness is opposed to light (John 3:19–21). The world is opposed to God (1 Cor. 1:18–25) because God is truth and reveals the world’s essence and orientation away from God (Rom. 3:19). This means that the Christian cannot expect to find in the “world” an ally to the gospel. Opposition can only be expected. There is a general conflict.
But a general conflict does not mean persecution except at the most basic level. But—here is where the rub comes—the minute a Christian is willing to state his or her case for the truth of the gospel, at that very moment persecution of some kind will frequently appear. How? It can be subtle and it can be overt. Subtle oppositions come by way of frowns, raising eyebrows, social exclusion, gossip, blacklisting, and maneuverings so a Christian will not be promoted. Overt oppositions to our willingness to speak up comes in many forms: from negative social comments to hostile comments, from economic sanctions to career firings, and from physical pressure to overt putting to death. I find, however, that the most difficult persecution to deal with is subtle. The fear of being disapproved and therefore talked about is something most Christians would simply like to avoid. The result: we fail to speak up and to be faithful. I give two examples, one from a world in which Christians subtly put pressure on other Christians and one from a world in which someone puts overt pressure on a Christian.
Recently, I was watching a Christian TV program broadcast a discussion among pastors and psychologists over a sensitive topic in our society: sexual addictions. After the host sketched the horridness of the topic, he turned it over to the panel to make their remarks. It began in a way that is so typical for psychologists that I risk a stereotype. Their very important starting point was that the person must be accepted, the person must understand that God loves him or her, the person must understand that he or she has a past that has led to this unacceptable behavior, the person must understand that the therapist cannot cure the problem until that person wants to change, etc. As the discussion progressed, I sensed that very little progress was being made and, more importantly, few uniquely Christian ideas were being spoken (except, of course, that acceptance is important).
In this situation a pastor chimed in and, rather hesitatingly, suggested that the Bible considers this kind of problem “sin”; then, getting bolder, he argued that Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit were the essential cures for this kind of unacceptable behavior. At this very point in the discussion the others began to nod their heads in agreement, and eventually all came around to a fundamental agreement.
My point here is not to suggest cures for sexual addictions, except to say that I believe the biblical solution is fundamental; but I suggest that psychologists are most useful in diagnosis, analysis, and progress for such problems, but also that the word that was uneasy for them to speak was “sin.” They did not want to sound “unprofessional” and did not want to be thrown into the category of certain psychologists and pastors who think psychology has nothing to offer the Christian world. In their desire to remain respectable (not a bad desire when exercised properly), they hedged on the biblical message. I mention this because I know this is a problem for Christian psychologists—and I respect this profession greatly (my wife happens to be one!). What I see here is subtle pressure to use the right terms so carefully that, at times, there is an unwillingness to call something what the Bible calls it—“sin”; and then that same Bible promises forgiveness to the one who renounces such sin. Thus, because they want to protect the integrity of their discipline and to remain respectable in their field, and because they know that for many problems a quick cure (surrendering to Christ or the Holy Spirit) is simply not effective,14 Christian psychologists subtly put pressure on others and themselves in such a manner that at times they end up refusing to state the truth of the gospel.
In the context of Galatians 4:21–31, I wish to make this observation: when Christian psychologists willingly stand up for the truth of the gospel as the foundation for emotional and mental health and sense an opposition to what they are doing, they will also experience the truth of Paul’s words. They will confirm the truthfulness of the gospel by seeing that it is opposed by those who do not trust in God.
Overt pressure from others is easier to detect but perhaps more difficult to accept. I was speaking with a man recently who told me of how he had married a Lutheran woman (he was formerly a Roman Catholic) and of how the change of churches was different. He then, with a little bravado, told me of how he had recently “corrected” his new pastor after the pastor had preached on salvation in Christ alone. He told me how he approached the pastor and how he had informed the pastor that he was not going to hear any more of this “one way to salvation” stuff. He then continued with a brief dissertation on how it is morally wrong for Christians, and anyone for that matter, to think they knew the truth and how it was wrong for anyone to think that God would accept only Christians. His emotions were getting stronger and more intense. He then looked at me and said, “Don’t tell me only Christians are going to heaven. That’s not Christian. You don’t believe that, do you Scot?”
I have to admit that I didn’t want to become the brunt of another tirade. Nor did I feel, at that moment, like getting into a lengthy discussion about truth, about God’s revelation in Christ, and about what was “Christian.” For this man it meant “being nice and tolerant and full of good works,” but it certainly did not mean being orthodox. I did say, however: “I believe, my friend, in Jesus Christ, and the Bible teaches that we are accepted by God only through Jesus Christ.” I felt uncomfortable (as anyone talking with him about this subject would have), but I also sensed a liberation, for in willingly declaring the good news in Christ there is a sense of liberation. I felt that it did not matter to me if he liked me; I knew that it was more important to follow Christ than to be accepted by him. Yet I valued his friendship (and still do). In subsequent conversations I have learned that he was (over)reacting to an unfortunate past (where only Roman Catholics could be Christians) and that he considered himself a believer and a Christian. At the time I was not convinced that he was a Christian (at least in an orthodox sense), and I experienced the pressure that every follower of Christ experiences: standing up for Christ in the midst of pressure to deny the truth of the gospel.
Once again I make the same observation: in standing up for the gospel and in boldly stating its contours, the Christian will find the truth of Paul’s words: those who follow Christ will suffer persecution. That is to say, the experience of opposition is for the Christian a confirmation of the truth of the gospel. The experience does not confirm it; the gospel confirms itself through the opposition.
When we go through such experiences, we need to learn to look at them the way the earliest Christians looked at them. (1) We need to realize that we are simply walking right behind Jesus. It is encouraging for the persecuted to know that they are being treated as Jesus was treated. (2) We need to remember that God’s people have always been opposed. Who do we think we are that we suppose we can live obediently and not follow in the steps of those who were opposed? (3) We can root our confidence in the hope of God’s final vindication and our resurrection. Come what may in the present, we know that in the end God will put all things right. This includes our own resurrection and a glorious eternity in the presence of God. This hope ought to animate our spirits as we face opposition to the gospel.
We must return, however, to our opening observations about the absence of persecution in too much of the modern Christian world. It has a basis: the desire for acceptance. This desire is exactly what Paul spoke against in Galatians 1:10, and it is exactly what the Judaizers were rooted in: acceptance back home in Jerusalem. This desire is so strong in our own world that it infects our willingness to follow Christ. Indeed, our desire for acceptance works against the opportunity of confirming our faith through being opposed. In her helpful book, Out of the Salt Shaker and Into the World,15 Becky Pippert distinguishes between the Christian being “obnoxious” and “offensive” in our relationship to the world. She rightly contends that being obnoxious is wrong; being offensive is normal. She writes: “If anyone was guilty of being offensive, it was Jesus—not me. It was his idea that he was the only way to God, not mine.” And she finished an imaginary conversation with an unbeliever with this thought: “I know, and isn’t it amazing that Jesus actually said so many narrow things? Wouldn’t it be intriguing to study him to discover why he made such egotistical claims?”16
The gospel, properly understood and persuasively presented, is offensive to sinful people. There is no getting around this. To be a follower of Christ means an inevitable conflict, and that means being offensive. We should not shirk the opportunity; it is not we who are actually being rejected (Matt. 10:40–42). Through the experience of being opposed, however, comes the confirmation that we are simply being treated the way all of our faithful brothers and sisters have been taught. Since Day One, God’s people have been opposed. “It is the same now,” wrote Paul (Gal. 4:29).