I, Paul, and my companions in faith here, send greetings to the Galatian churches.
My authority for writing to you does not come from any popular vote of the people, nor does it come through the appointment of some human higher-up. It comes directly from Jesus the Messiah and God the Father, who raised him from the dead. I’m God-commissioned. So I greet you with the great words, grace and peace!
We know the meaning of those words because Jesus Christ rescued us from this evil world we’re in by offering himself as a sacrifice for our sins. God’s plan is that we all experience that rescue.
Glory to God forever! Oh yes!
Galatians 1:1-5 MSG
Born Dead
as believers in Christ's life, death, burial, and resurrection, the words “life” and “death” are not mortal; they are eternal.
My dear sisters, we were born dead. Such a morbid thought matches this gray cloudy day on which I write to you. I should draw the shades and play some minor chords. However, sunshine is beyond the clouds, so not all hope is lost.
It’s how this Journey of freedom feels. The path down the hill was perfect, sunlit gold bursting with decadent color. So smooth, so perfect, all the while lulling us into a false sense of “I am on my way! Look at me go!!” Revelation hits hard—-the realization that I am not free. I am on my own path with my will at the center. Although seemingly good, even wanting to do just what God has for me is still me at the epicenter of my life. The choice to make His will and God Himself the center is to turn and walk back up that path. The way back up to freedom is dark and treacherous and flat-out hurts. We turn from death to life.
Death makes its way into our story in Genesis 3. God, the author of life, created life. Two pages later, man and woman choose death. The rest of the narration follows—-God’s will to “life” and the human will to “death.” Even if we were objectors of the faith, we could attest that we were born to die. The story of humanity is a story of death.
Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, refers to us as dead through trespasses and sins (Ephesians 2:1). And his seemingly dramatic cry in his letter to the Roman churches, “who will rescue me from this body of death?” is the cry of all of us who are born dead. If the story of humanity is death, we are left to realize there is no freedom.
However! Yes, the big, however, our (as believers in Christ’s life, death, burial, and resurrection) words “life” and “death” are not mortal; they are eternal.
Our freedom cannot begin with an analysis of the humans. If we search there, we can only determine that there is no freedom. If a story of freedom is to be told, it can only begin with God.
Our freedom cannot begin with an analysis of the humans. If we search there, we can only determine that there is no freedom. If a story of freedom is to be told, it can only begin with God. Our free God, freely created, not out of necessity but out of a desire to partner with us to rule and reign. It is only in Him we have freedom. Free to die and free to live.
God took the first action. He initiated freedom. In the journey of “freedom,” God is always the subject. (In a grammatical sense, if God is always the subject, then we are always the object receiving!)
In the opening lines of his letter to the Galatians, Paul writes of “Grace” and “Peace,” two words that death cannot touch because “Jesus Christ rescued us from the present mess we are in by offering himself as a sacrifice for our sins.” A sacrifice as a remedy because we were born dead. Apart from Christ, we have no life. God’s plan is life. Not life in our mortal context, but the eternal kind. God planned for all of us to experience that rescue. Glory to God, indeed!! Our freedom is a gift. One we must accept.
Sisters, our death is not mortal. Our death is what we do on the way to life. We accept His gift and the challenge to grow into our freedom. Once we denounce “me at the epicenter” and make the decision to turn around, death has occurred. “Who will rescue me from this literal body of death?” One foot in front of the other on the road back uphill. Uphill with one another, that is, growing in freedom together.