Sermon: Easter 4 - Galatians 1:12-24, April 26, 2026

Scripture: Galatians 1.12-24

Preacher: Ryan Slifka

Sermon: Easter 4

This morning we’re continuing our sermon series on Paul’s letter to the Galatians, a group of churches in modern day Turkey that he helped get off the ground. Paul’s found to his dismay that there are now teachers in these congregation who have convinced the Galatians to abandon the gospel he preached in favour of another one. One that requires Gentile–meaning non-Jewish–converts to adopt certain practices from the law of Moses such as circumcision. For Paul, this gospel is a distortion. Because, to require such a thing to become one of God’s people negates the very heart of the Christian message: the free gift of God’s grace in Jesus Christ. For Jew and non-Jew alike.

This week’s part of the letter is here to help re-establish Paul’s credibility and reassert his authority as a teacher. His hope is that these wayward congregations might turn away from these false teachers once again. And re-embrace the truth of his message.

Now, in terms of re-establishing his credibility, he starts off pretty well:

“I want you to know, brothers and sisters,” he says. “I want you to know that the gospel proclaimed by me is not of human origin; for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.”

One of the criticisms of Paul is that he either made up his gospel or got it from someone else. But according to Paul, he didn’t plagiarize the message he’s preaching. He got it directly from God! If you’re familiar with Paul’s biography from the book of Acts, Paul was knocked over by a vision on the road to Damascus–”a sudden light and flash from heaven.” Not just any vision, lightning or flash–but Paul was knocked over by Jesus himself, Jesus who had risen from the dead. And it’s Jesus who commissioned him to preach to the gentiles. Jesus directly.

Paul derives his authority and credibility to preach the message not as somebody who was instructed by other apostles, or a great teacher, but somebody who got his commission straight from God! Cuz who needs permission or instruction when you’ve been instructed and co-missioned by the Lord himself?

In terms of establishing his credibility, he starts out pretty well. Because God’s about as authoritative as you get!

3. He starts out well. But then he says something weird. Something that might move his credibility in the opposite direction, we might say:

“You have heard,” he says. “You have heard no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors.”

Again, if you’re familiar with the book of Acts, you’ll be familiar with Paul’s biography. Jesus found him in a flash of light on the road to Damascus, yes. But he was on that road because he was on his way to deliver some letters that would help him smoke out some pesky Christians. Paul had already heard plenty about Jesus, because he was a persecutor of the people who were spreading Jesus all over the place–the church. Did he directly kill anyone? Likely not. Tortured? Probably, yes. Had them arrested, maligned, beaten to set them straight? Almost certainly.

Now, we sometimes get the sense that when Paul saw Jesus he converted from one religion–Judaism–to another–Christianity. What Paul here means by being “advanced in Judaism,” though, means something different. One scholar Richard Hays says that Judaism here designates “not so much a set of beliefs or doctrines as to a culture.”1 You could say that Paul was a culture warrior. He was willing to go the extra mile, to stop at nothing to keep his culture pure of an outside pollutant–the message of Jesus. He may not have killed anybody, but Paul certainly wanted them dead.

Paul’s as bad a guy as it gets! God revealed his gospel to you, Paul? A zealous persecutor of the church, the author of countless evil deeds, an enemy of the Lord Jesus himself, even! A vicious, bloodthirsty hater! If anything, Paul, this degrades your authority! If anything it actually spoils your credibility. It’s like the Ayatollah trading in his robes for a pinstripe suit and office on Wall-Street. What’s your angle? No wonder the Galatians question whether this guy knows what he’s talking about.

And this is how we generally think, isn’t it?

For us, the prerequisite for authority and credibility is the virtue of the speaker. That truth is dependent on the character of the person saying it. Good things come from good people, bad things come from bad people. Or from a spiritual standpoint, the prerequisite for God’s activity, God’s presence in our lives is our goodness. Or our spiritual achievements. That a purpose and a calling in life is we’ve gotta earn.

But in Paul’s case–not so at all. For him, his seedy past somehow adds points to his credibility column in his argument against the false teachers in Galatia, rather than subtracts. Why?

Of course, Paul’s not saying this: he’s not saying all the stuff he’s done, the wounds he’s inflicted are good. They aren’t OK, not a big deal. He doesn’t even say something like “I’m earning back forgiveness.” No, he makes no excuses. He was. the. worst.

Here’s where Paul gets to the radical heart of the Christian message. He himself has zero credibility based on anything about himself, or anything he’s done. But Paul’s authority, his credibility, the power of his message doesn’t come from himself at all.

I was a persecutor of the church, he says, an enemy of God. But then “God,” he says. “God who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the gentiles.” There’s that word again–that word we love: grace. God chose him, set him apart from the beginning. Not based on anything he did, by grace. A grace that was there since the womb. One that turned his life upside-down by conscripting him to be the world’s biggest cheerleader for the very cause, the very person he once despised. Even before he was sorry, even before he could even make any kind of amends.

That’s what we call, on one hand, “poetic justice.” But it’s also a perfect example of grace. The one-way, unconditional, unmerited love of God. Paul doesn’t get his credibility from his own virtue or goodness. But from the power and goodness of God. God searched him out, and chose him by grace. God’s grace that changes enemies into friends, and calls them into his service. In him, Jesus’ own words are fulfilled: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” This God is so good–how do I know? Paul says. Because look what he did with a sinner like me. Paul’s credibility comes not from himself. But from God. And how God changed somebody like him.

About a year ago, Christianity Today published a testimony by a pastor named Herman Mendoza. It’s a very Pauline conversion story, though with one major difference: unlike Paul he was not a virtuous protector of religion. But he was a different kind of enemy of God’s reign: Mendoza was, at one point, wealthy and powerful drug dealer. One who worked his way up from the age of thirteen to managing a crime syndicate’s eastern seaboard operations. Sex, money, wealth, and violence, all at his command.

One day, though, his high-flyin’ days came crashing down. Handcuffs clicked while police seized $3.8 million dollars of cocaine. It took a few more arrests, but eventually he was sentenced to 18-25 years in prison.

And that’s where his Paul-like moment happened. Not on the road to Damascus, but in a penitentiary. At his lowest moment of depression and suicidal ideation, he took an invitation to the prison chapel. Though he’d grown up with a strong Roman Catholic background, he’d never actually heard the message that was delivered to him. The prison preacher gave a rather simple message about Jesus, and his forgiveness, that there was a way out for people like him. Even if that way didn’t lead out of the actual prison.

“God wants you to know that he can fill that void,” the preacher said. “Christ can make you a new person.” Just then, writes Mendoza “The fog cleared in my mind. When the preacher invited us to come and pray, I walked to the front of the chapel and fell to my knees, sobbing.

The weight of my sins and their far-reaching consequences hit me. I thought about all the people I had wronged, the lives wrecked by addiction, my broken family. I said, “God, forgive me.” As the words tumbled out, a warmth enveloped me. It felt as if God had physically reached inside me, taking out all the guilt and shame, all the dark deeds, and filled that space with light. He… saved me,” writes Medosa. He saved me “when I least deserved it.”

Eventually, Mendoza did make it out of prison, and became an author, speaker and pastor. “Christ has shown me that the hands that were once used to destroy people’s lives are now being used to restore and build up others in Jesus. My life is Christ and Christ alone! This is who I am now.”

Not just who he is now, but who he’s always been. Like Paul, he finally received the call he was given before he was born. Not when he was at his high point, but his low point. When he least deserved it. It was there God was pleased to reveal himself to him through his Son, and call him into his service. Not the kind of person you and I would probably consider to take over the youth group at St. George’s would we? But the kind of person who God seems to call into his service. And it all happened through sheer grace.

Now, my guess is that few of us here have been active, zealous persecutors of a religious minority like Paul, let alone spent much hard time on account of our substantial drug empires, like Herman Mendoza. My guess is that few of us, if any, have committed such flagrant offenses in such a dramatic and violent way. Our omissions and com-missions are way less spectacular, and far more ordinary.

But the point is this: if God does this sort of thing with religious zealots like Paul, why not you? If God does this sort of thing with self-serving dealers like Herman Mendoza, why not you, too? They call grace “amazing” for a reason. And the reason is that the only people God works with are sinners, because sinners are the only people to work with. Sinners like Paul, sinners like Herman, sinners like you and me, even the worst kind. And through grace God does amazing things.

God is not waiting for you to get good or virtuous, spiritual or right. But like Paul, Jesus has come to you where you are, to conscript you into service as you are, for the purpose that he set out for you since you were in your momma’s belly. Even before the beginning of time. He may not be calling you to be a preacher or a pastor, but though his grace, he’s calling you all the same. Right here, right now through his Word. Whether you’re a zealous rule following religious over-achiever like Paul, or a no-good criminal he’s had designs for you since before you were even born. If you’re way past retirement, or a hard-workin’ suburban mom, or an alienated young man with few prospects. Young or old, successful or destitute, he’s come for you, not based on who you are, but on who he is–the Good Shepherd is gathering all his wayward sheep together in one flock. To reveal his grace to you, so he can—reveal his grace in you. This is not only who you are now… but who you’ve always been. A child of the living God, created, chosen, redeemed… to glorify and enjoy God forever.

Let us pray.

Gracious God,
in our Lord Jesus Christ, you have revealed to us the infinite depths of your grace.
You have come that we might have life, and life in the full,
not because we deserve it, but because you are gracious.
Like our dear brother Paul, we pray that you would reveal yourself to us again.
Call us, claim us, and use us, just as we are, so that your Son might be revealed in us for the sake of the world you love.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.