Picture a young man sitting alone in a cold stone monastery in Germany.
He fasts until he nearly collapses. He confesses his sins for hours at a time — literally until his confessor grows tired of listening. He crawls up the stairs of a church in Rome on his knees, praying at each step. By every outward measure, he is one of the most religious men in all of Europe. And yet, he has no peace.
His name was Martin Luther.
His superiors, concerned about his restless conscience, eventually told him to go teach the Bible — to lecture on the Psalms, on Romans, on Galatians. And that’s where everything changed. Because somewhere in that cold stone monastery, Luther began to understand that the righteousness God requires is not something a man produces. It’s something God gives — as a gift, through faith, by grace, and through Christ alone.
Luther later said it felt like the gates of paradise had swung open.
He went on to preach through Galatians — the very book we’re beginning today — and he never could get away from it. Because Galatians said out loud what he had discovered in his own soul: there is a gospel of grace, it comes from God, it is accomplished by Christ alone, and if anyone tries to add to it, corrupt it, or replace it, let them be cursed.
That conviction eventually cost Luther everything. He was called before the most powerful men in Europe, told to recant, and yet he said: “Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me.” Out of that moment — out of one monk’s rediscovery of grace in the letter of Galatians — the Protestant Reformation was born.
But here’s where it gets personal: the exact same temptation that tormented Luther’s soul in that monastery is still alive right now. In our culture. In our churches. And if we’re honest, in our own hearts. That’s exactly why Paul wrote this letter.
One Gospel, One Source
Paul opens Galatians by making clear that his authority as an apostle didn’t come from men — it came through Jesus Christ and God the Father who raised Him from the dead. This matters because false teachers had crept into the churches of Galatia and were calling Paul a “second-rate apostle,” suggesting that both the messenger and the message were inferior. Paul’s response is immediate and unambiguous: what I am teaching is not from men, nor through men, but through Jesus Christ.
And then, almost without pausing, he gives them the Gospel in two verses: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age.” Grace is the source of our salvation. Peace is the result. And the one who secured both is Jesus, who gave Himself completely and sufficiently for our sins.
No Additions Needed
The problem in Galatia was that false teachers — called Judaizers — were telling believers that faith in Christ was not enough. You also needed to be circumcised, keep the law, follow the traditions of Moses. Jesus, yes — but Jesus plus.
Paul is astonished. “I am astonished,” he writes, “that you are so quickly deserting him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel.” And then he says something that stops every one of us cold: if anyone — even an angel from heaven — preaches a gospel contrary to the one you received, let him be cursed. He’s so serious about it, he says it twice.
This isn’t Paul being harsh. This is Paul being a shepherd. A shepherd carries a staff with two purposes: to pull the sheep away from danger, and to drive off the wolves. Paul is doing both at once.
Who Are You Trying to Please?
Paul closes this opening section with a question that cuts through every era of church history straight into our own chests: “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”
Before Damascus, Paul was a Pharisee seeking the approval of men. After Damascus, everything changed. He became a slave of Jesus Christ — and that is the only authority he answers to now.
The same question lands in front of us today. It is genuinely hard to follow Jesus when it goes against the crowd — in the workplace, in the school, in the family. But Paul’s answer is clear: if you are a servant of Christ, you are not in the business of pleasing people. You are in the business of proclaiming what is true.
The Gospel Is Enough
Here is what the whole of Galatians 1:1–10 is building toward: There is one Gospel, given by God, accomplished by Christ alone, and it is enough.
Jesus didn’t begin a work that you finish. He didn’t pay a down payment that you supplement with moral effort. He said from the cross, “It is finished.” His merit is all-sufficient. Your standing before God does not go up when you have a good week, and it does not go down when you have a bad one. If you are in Christ, your righteousness is His — credited to your account by grace, through faith, for the glory of God alone.
Luther discovered that five hundred years ago. The Galatians were in danger of forgetting it. And so are we.
Don’t run from the thing that saved you. Don’t get over it. Go deeper into it.
This post is part of an ongoing sermon series through the book of Galatians at Harvey Baptist Church in Stephenville, TX.
