Our passage, Galatians 2:11-21, is one of the most nuanced, dense, and difficult passages in all of the New Testament. For a point of comparison, there is a book written by a New Testament scholar on vss. 15-18 that’s slightly over 300 pages long. And while I appreciate your faith in me to deal justly with the Scriptures I will confess to you that there is a lot of difficult material here and I felt overwhelmed by dealing adequately with it. I was sharing that problem with James Heyen who said, “Let me tell you what one of my mentors told me. ‘In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.’” So today I’m preaching with one eye open – that’s all I got. We won’t be able to talk about everything and trust me when I say that I don’t see perfectly – and no, I don’t think I’m king – but I can spy with my little eye three things that are worth pondering together and I welcome to hear what you think: (Don’t) Be sinner like Peter., Gal. 2:11-14; (Don’t) Have faith. Jesus has faith!, Gal. 2:15-18; (Don’t) Play dead., Gal. 2:19-21. [The parenthetical “don’t” is my sneaky way of capturing the Bible’s often wily way of presenting the both/and reality of important truths.]
(Don’t) Be a sinner like Peter., vss. 2:11-14
Peter was a Christian – a solid one, a writer of Scripture, picked by Jesus himself. He was also not immune to making mistakes or even outright wrong-doing. In fact Paul says, he stood “condemned.” One of Jesus’ best buddies, one of his inner circle – called out. Why? What had he done? We are told that he “drew back” and “separated himself” from non-Jewish believers “because he was afraid.” Notice that it doesn’t say he believed that “righteousness could be gained through the law” but that he acted in such a way that suggested he did which hurt people through anti-gospel behavior. He was bowing to peer pressure and behaving, Paul notes, like a “hypocrite.” A hypocrite is not someone who fails to practice those virtues that she preaches. It’s not necessarily a failure to do or say what one believes. Paul, using a sort of ironic hyperbole in vs. 15 will note that everyone is a sinner – everyone fails. That reality binds us all together. Jesus himself preached that forgetting our sinfulness makes us blind (Matt. 7:1-6). So a better understanding of the term, “hypocrite” comes from the world of theater and translates as “play-acting;” it involves active deception by pretending to do or believe something that you knowingly do not. Breaking fellowship with Gentile believers over Torah food restrictions wasn’t a simple sin on Peter’s part but an intentional act of fraudulence. His play-acting told others that they were “less than” in God’s kingdom. Feel that trauma for a moment – being overlooked, considered less-than, or ignored by a “Christian” leader and friend. Don’t be like that. Don’t do that to others. Don’t be a sinner like Peter. Such behavior must be condemned because it undermines the very center of the gospel. But I also invite you to feel another trauma for a moment – Peter’s – being called out for personally and hypocritically harming the faith of others. How does that feel? What does that make you want to do?
When you feel that trauma – BE a sinner like Peter. It’s incredibly significant to acknowledge that Peter, who has all the power and privilege, receives Paul’s very public correction. He doesn’t get mad, storm off, cancel Paul, or even defend himself; but rather, appears to listen and change. So the most significant means of identifying Peter as a mature believer, despite his hypocrisy, was his ability to receive correction. Friends, maturity reveals itself less by whether we sin or not and more by how we respond when we do (to listen, acknowledge, and change). Peter sinned, he was corrected, and did not take offense. When it comes to conversations about sin and personal responsibility, our level of offendability often reveals the level of our maturity. Are we capable of being a church like Peter? Are we able to have our hypocrisies questioned and repent? Will we slide into the easy response of offense at being called out for our sins or will we endure proper healing? Are we willing to be a Proverb 15:31 community: “Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise.” How do we know Peter is a sinner worth emulating? Well, he will later praise Paul as a wise and “dear brother” (2 Peter 3:16). Friends, be a sinner like Peter.
(Don’t) Have faith. Jesus has faith!, vss. 15-18
I want to begin this point with a warning to all the men in order to spare you any public correction. Nothing ticks my wife off more than when a man, no matter how innocently, speaks about having a baby, by saying, “We’re pregnant.” Yes, she’s aware of the male contribution but hardly thinks that constitutes a “we-ness” when it comes to a woman’s experience of making room in her body for a baby, carrying a baby in her body for 9 mos., feeding a baby with her body, enduring the weight gain, weird cravings, strange nesting behavior, and painful birth from her body. I’m telling you now, she will stop you and say publicly, “There is no ‘we.’” That’s sort-of what Paul is also saying here about justification and Jesus. There’s no “we-ness” when it comes to new birth. This uneven partnership, however, has been obscured by the difficulties of the Greek language. All of the places in our passage that speak about our justification by “faith in Jesus Christ” or “in Christ” could be and should be translated as “faith of Jesus Christ.” That doesn’t change our need for faith but certainly places the emphasis, the direct action, the end result of our justification squarely on the faith of Jesus himself and what he has done in order that the world might be saved. Is our participation necessary for salvation? Yes. Does God woo us with an ever-giving, uncoerced love that ask for a decision? Of course. Do we need to submit intimately and personally in order to experience new birth? Absolutely. But like pregnancy there is no “we.”
Our justification, which means God making right what has gone wrong (rescuing us from Satan, sin, and death), is fundamentally determined and ultimately won by the faith of Jesus himself. We experience that reality through our personal response of faith but the accent, the point of the gospel, is that Jesus has accomplished for us what we cannot do for ourselves and that includes our own faith. Through his faith Jesus has changed the fabric of reality and order of our world. The kingdom is breaking in regardless of your decision. And that also means that even when I can’t seem to muster faith, care about faith, or even act faithfully – Jesus did, Jesus is, Jesus will. No one will faithfully stand before Jesus in all his glory and say, “My decision saved me.” No, we will all faithfully declare, “Thanks be to God. Jesus is Lord.”
(Don’t) Play dead!, vss. 19-21
That emphasis upon Jesus gets further fleshed out for Paul in vss. 19-21 which involve us thinking about our death mystically, metaphorically, and morally.
First, there is a mystical tension at work. Paul says that our transformation is Jesus living through us – NOT saving us simply for when we die but freeing us in the present. Our transformation is a real yet mysterious uniting with the faith of the Son of the God. In fact, we are given his righteousness through his death. Let me offer a possible analogy from climbing. Mystically – Jesus is our lead climber. When climbing something really high, the lead climber is the one who goes first and takes all of the risk. They will at times even have nothing that will stop them if they fall. But the second climber who must follow the same path is in an entirely different context. He cannot fall – he’s on rope or on belay and can hang on the rope, when necessary. In the spiritual journey of faith, Jesus has already climbed what I am incapable of climbing and sometimes must even pull me up by the rope. I am not a strong enough climber to climb without falling and even when I do, Jesus who is above me and has me on rope keeps me secure. So “play dead” - a main work of discipleship (not the only work, of course) is the surrender of my own will and faith to Jesus who will transform me from the inside out. He has already ensured that I will make it to the end because his climb has guaranteed my climb. And that sounds like a cop-out but it’s one of the hardest things to do. Following the rules, no matter how well I follow them, will not get me up this mountain. And, it turns out, I don’t need them. Jesus has already climbed it and has me on belay. So you need to “play dead” to the idea that you are not your own transformation, that you are not the lead climber, that you can even fall. You’re not that powerful. It’s okay. You don’t have to be.
But I also believe that Paul is making a metaphorical point about death. My death is not merely a reference to a mystical union in which Jesus does for me what I cannot do for myself but a metaphor for following Jesus’ way which demands my death. I need to consciously give up (or die to) my will in the same way that Jesus gave up his own will to do the will of the Father. I must not merely "play dead" but choose to die, in other words, because I realize that the only truly way to live is to live as God intended, to live as Jesus did, which is not always the way I want to. I seek to “play dead” by setting aside my will because my will, my desires, my choices, often lead me to places where I actually don’t want to go or to behave in ways I don’t wish to be. So I must learn to die to my desire to be in charge, die to my hope to kill my enemies, die to my belief in my own self-righteousness. It’s a metaphor – always true even when not literal.
Third, we must “play dead” morally. It’s so easy to imagine the life of being a disciple to the life of being a law-abiding citizen – follow the rules, don’t lie, don’t steal, show respect, and then your life will be a success, God will bless you. And while I know that that’s not exactly what Paul means by the “law” or “works of the law” the premise holds. According to the law and its understanding of sin, Jesus was a sinner who ate with, touched, and connected with uncircumcised, unkosher, folk. And if that’s true – then, according to the law, Paul ironically asks, “Did Jesus promote sin?” His response Is literally, “No way!” And yet Paul also wants us to remember is that Jesus died condemned, as a criminal - not simply by Roman standards but Jewish ones as well. He will remind us, later in Galatians 3, what he hints at here about dying to the law. That, according to Deuteronomy 21:22-23, Jesus was under the curse of God because he was “put to death” and his “body was exposed on a pole.” According to the gospel story, we must recognize that a certain morality judged Jesus’ ministry as wicked, unbiblical and subsequently put him to death. We must “play dead,” in other words, to such morality and, in response, ask ourselves, “Is this the way of Jesus? Is this the path of suffering love, even if it breaks the law?” Friends, this is the only way to live – to be a sinner like Peter and take correction; to remember that Jesus’ faith saves us and not our own. This is how we join ourselves to one who “loved us and gave himself for us.” To lean into playing dead so that we can be free and allow Jesus to transform us in the present. Christ did not die for nothing. He is the center. Amen.