Galatians, chapter 4

“But I say that as long as the heir is a child, he is no different from a slave, though he is lord of all. He is under guardians and stewards until the time set by the father. So we too, when we were children, were held in slavery under the elements of the world.” [a]

The word “child” here refers not to age but to understanding. He means that God had planned these gifts for us from the beginning, but since we were still childish, he let us be under the elements of the world — that is, new moons and Sabbaths, for these days are regulated by the course of the sun and moon. So if they are now bringing you under the law as well, they are doing nothing but leading you backward, and that now, in the time of your full age and maturity.

And see what follows from observing days: the lord, the master of the house, the sovereign ruler, is brought down by it to the rank of a slave.

Verses 4 and 5: “But when the fullness of the time came, God sent forth his Son, born of a woman, under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive the adoption as sons.”

Here he states two purposes of his becoming man, two things it accomplished: rescue from evil, and the gift of good things — things no one but Christ could bring about. They are these: rescue from the curse of the law, and promotion to sonship. [b]

He rightly says “that we might receive,” in the sense of receiving what is paid, which implies that it was owed. For the promise of these very things had been made long ago to Abraham, as the apostle himself has shown at great length. And how is it clear that we have become sons? He has already told us one way: we have put on Christ, who is the Son. Now he mentions another: we have received the Spirit of adoption.

Verses 6 and 7: “And because you are sons, God sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, ‘Abba, Father!’ So you are no longer a slave, but a son; and if a son, then an heir through God.” If we had not first been made sons, we could not have called him Father. So if grace has made us free people instead of slaves, grown men instead of children, heirs and sons instead of strangers, is it not utter absurdity and stupidity to desert this grace and turn back again?

Verses 8 and 9: “However, at that time, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those that by nature are not gods. But now that you have come to know God — or rather, to be known by God — how can you turn back again to the weak and beggarly elements, to which you want to be enslaved all over again?” [d]

Here he turns to the believers from among the Gentiles and tells them that this strict observance of days is idolatry, and now brings a severe punishment with it. To press this home and make them more anxious, he calls the elements “not gods by nature.” His meaning is this: “Back then, when you were in darkness and had lost your way, you lay groveling on the earth. But now that you have come to know God, or rather are known by him, how great and how bitter will be the punishment you bring on yourselves if, after such treatment, you fall back into the same disease! It was not by your own efforts that you found God. While you were still wandering, he drew you to himself.” He says “weak and beggarly elements” because they do nothing to bring us the good things held out to us.

Verse 10: “You observe days, and months, and seasons, and years.”

From this it is plain that their teachers were preaching to them not only circumcision, but also the feast days and new moons.

Verse 11: “I am afraid for you, lest somehow I have spent my labor on you in vain.”

Notice the tender compassion of the apostle. They were shaken, and he trembles and is afraid. That is why he has put it in a way that shames them thoroughly — “I have spent my labor on you” — as though saying: “Do not make worthless the labors that have cost me sweat and pain.” By saying “I am afraid” and adding the word “lest,” he both alarms them and encourages good hope. He does not say, “I have labored in vain,” but “lest,” which amounts to saying: “The wreck has not happened yet, but I see the storm heavy with it. So I am afraid, but I do not despair. You have the power to set everything right and to return to your former calm.” Then, as though stretching out a hand to them in their storm, he puts himself in the middle, saying, Verse 12: “I beg you, brothers and sisters, be as I am, for I am as you are.”

This is addressed to his disciples from among the Jews. He brings forward his own example, to persuade them by it to give up their old customs. He says: “Even if you had no one else as a pattern, looking at me alone would have been enough to bring about such a change and to give you courage. So look at me. I too was once of your mind — more than anyone. I had a burning zeal for the law. Yet afterward I was not afraid to give up the law and withdraw from that way of life. And you know very well how stubbornly I clung to Judaism, and with how much greater force I let it go.” He does well to put this argument last. Most people, even when they are given a thousand reasons, and good ones, are more readily swayed by a case like their own, and hold more firmly to what they see others doing. [e]

Verse 12: “You did me no wrong.”

Notice how he again addresses them by a title of honor, one that also reminded them of the teaching of grace. He has rebuked them seriously, gathered arguments from every quarter, shown how they have broken the law, and struck at them from many sides. Now he gives way and wins them over, speaking more tenderly. For just as nothing but soothing breeds carelessness, so being spoken to sharply all the time embitters a person. So it is right to keep a due balance in everything.

See, then, how he excuses to them what he has said, and shows that it did not come simply from dislike of them, but from anxiety for them. After cutting deep, he pours in this encouragement like oil. And to show that his words were not words of hatred or hostility, he reminds them of the love they had shown him, mixing praise with his defense of himself. That is why he says, “You did me no wrong.”

Verses 13 and 14: “But you know that it was because of a weakness of the flesh that I preached the good news to you the first time. And what was a trial in my flesh you did not despise or reject.” [f]

He means: “Not to have wronged someone is certainly no great thing. No one at all would choose to hurt, wantonly and for no purpose, a man who had never wronged him, just to annoy him. But as for you, not only have you not wronged me; you have shown me great kindness, more than words can say. And it is impossible that someone who has been treated with such care would speak as I have from any ill will. So my words cannot come from ill will. It follows that they come from affection and concern.”

“You did me no wrong; you know that it was because of a weakness of the flesh that I preached the good news to you.” What could be gentler than this holy soul — what sweeter, what more loving? The words he had used before did not come from unreasoning anger or a burst of passion, but from deep concern. “And why do I say, ‘You did me no wrong’? Rather, you showed me great and sincere regard.” For “you know,” he says, “that it was because of a weakness of the flesh that I preached the good news to you; and what was a trial to you in my flesh you did not despise or reject.” What does he mean? “While I was preaching to you, I was driven from place to place, I was flogged, I suffered a thousand deaths; and yet you did not look down on me.” That is the meaning of “what was a trial to you in my flesh you did not despise or reject.” Notice his spiritual skill: in the middle of defending himself, he again appeals to their feelings by showing what he had suffered for their sake. He says: “None of this offended you in the least, and you did not reject me because of my sufferings and persecutions” — or, as he calls them here, his weakness and his trial.

Verse 14: “But you received me as an angel of God.” [g]

Was it not absurd of them, then, to receive him as an angel of God when he was being persecuted and driven about, and then not to receive him when he was pressing on them what was right?

Verses 15 and 16: “Where, then, is that blessedness you claimed for yourselves? For I bear you witness that, if it had been possible, you would have plucked out your eyes and given them to me. So have I become your enemy because I tell you the truth?”

Here he shows his bewilderment and amazement, and wants to learn from them the reason for their change. He says: “Who has deceived you and changed your feelings toward me? Are you not the same people who looked after me and served me, and counted me more precious than your own eyes? What has happened, then? Where does this dislike come from? Where does this suspicion come from? Is it because I have told you the truth? For that very reason you ought to have honored me and cared for me all the more. Instead, ‘I have become your enemy because I tell you the truth’ — for I can find no other reason but this.” Notice too the humility that shows in his defense of himself. He proves that his words could not possibly have come from unkind feeling, not by his conduct toward them, but by theirs toward him. For he does not say, “How can anyone suppose that a man who has been flogged and driven about and mistreated in a thousand ways for your sake would now be plotting against you?” Instead he argues from what was to their own credit, saying, “How could someone you have honored, and received as an angel, repay you by conduct that is the very opposite?”

Verse 17: “They zealously seek you, but not for good; no, they want to shut you out, so that you will seek them.” [h]

There is a healthy zeal, which leads to the imitation of virtue; and there is an evil one, which lures away from virtue someone who is on the right path. And this is what these people are after. They want to rob you of the complete knowledge and hand you one that is mutilated and false — and for no other purpose than to take the rank of teachers themselves, and to bring you, who now stand higher than they do, down to the place of disciples. That is the meaning of the words “so that you will seek them.”

He says: “But I want the opposite: for you to become a model for them, and a pattern of a higher perfection — which is exactly what happened when I was with you.” That is why he adds, Verse 18: “But it is good to be zealously sought in a good cause at all times, and not only when I am present with you.”

Here he hints that his absence had caused this, and that the real blessing is for disciples to hold right beliefs not only when their teacher is present, but also when he is away. But since they had not reached this point of perfection, he makes every effort to bring them there.

Verse 19: “My little children, with whom I am again in labor until Christ is formed in you.” [i]

Notice his bewilderment and distress: “Brothers and sisters, I beg you”; “My little children, with whom I am again in labor.” He is like a mother trembling for her children. “Until Christ is formed in you.” See his fatherly tenderness! See this dejection, worthy of an apostle!

Notice what a cry of grief he utters, far more piercing than a woman’s in labor: “You have defaced the likeness, you have destroyed the family bond, you have changed the form. You need another new birth and another remaking. Still, I call you children — miscarriages and monstrous births though you are.”

He does not express himself this way, however. He spares them, unwilling to strike them and inflict wound upon wound. Wise physicians do not cure people who have fallen into a long illness all at once, but little by little, so that they will not faint and die. So it is with this blessed man. These labor pains were all the sharper as the force of his affection was the stronger. And the offense was no trivial one. As I have always said and always will say, even a slight fault spoils the appearance and distorts the shape of the whole.

Verse 20: “I could wish to be present with you now, and to change my voice.” [j]

Notice his warmth, and how he cannot hold himself back or hide these feelings of his. Such is the nature of love. He is not satisfied with words; he wants to be with them in person and so, as he says, to change his voice — that is, to change it to lamentation, to shed tears, to turn everything into mourning. He could not show his tears or his cries of grief in a letter, and that is why he longs so ardently to be with them.

Verse 20: “For I am perplexed about you.”

He says: “I do not know what to say, or what to think. How is it that you — who by the dangers you endured for the faith, and by the miracles you performed through faith, had risen to the highest heaven — have suddenly been brought down to such a depth of degradation that you are drawn aside to circumcision or Sabbaths, and rely wholly on Judaizers?” That is why at the beginning he says, “I marvel that you are so quickly moving away,” and here, “I am perplexed about you,” as if to say, “What am I to say? What am I to utter? What am I to think? I am bitterly perplexed.”

And so he has to weep, as the prophets do when they are at a loss; for concern often shows itself not only in warning but also in mourning. What he said in his speech to those at Miletus — “For three years I did not stop warning everyone … with tears” — he says here too: “and to change my voice” (Acts 20, verse 31). When we find ourselves overcome by bewilderment and helplessness that come against all expectation, we are driven to tears. So Paul rebuked them sharply and tried to shame them, then in turn soothed them, and last of all he wept.

This weeping is not only a rebuke but a way of winning them over. It does not exasperate like a rebuke, nor make them slack like indulgence; it is a mixed remedy, and a very powerful one for urging them on. Having softened their hearts in this way and taken strong hold of them by his tears, he goes back into the contest and sets out a larger argument, proving that the law itself was against their keeping it. Earlier he produced the example of Abraham; now — and this is more compelling — he brings forward the law itself, telling them not to keep it, but to leave it behind. In effect he says: “So you must give up the law if you want to obey it, for that is what the law itself wants.” He does not say this in so many words, however, but presses it in another way, weaving an account of events into it.

Verse 21: “Tell me,” he says, “you who want to be under the law, do you not hear the law?” [k]

He rightly says “you who want,” for the matter did not come from a proper and orderly succession of things, but from their own ill-timed love of quarreling. It is the Book of Creation that he calls the law here; he often gives this name to the whole Old Testament.

Verse 22: “For it is written (Genesis 16, verse 15) that Abraham had two sons, one by the slave woman and the other by the free woman.”

He comes back to Abraham again, not to repeat himself, but — since the patriarch’s fame was great among the Jews — to show that the types had their origin there, and that present events had been pictured long before in him. He had already shown that the Galatians were sons of Abraham. Now, since the patriarch’s sons were not of equal standing, one being born of a slave woman and the other of a free woman, he shows that they were not only his sons, but sons in the same sense as the one who was freeborn and noble. Such is the power of faith.

Verse 23: “However, the son by the slave woman is born according to the flesh, but the son by the free woman is born through promise.”

What does “according to the flesh” mean? He had said that faith joined us to Abraham, and it had seemed incredible to his hearers that people not descended from Abraham should be called his sons. So he proves that this paradox had actually happened long ago. Isaac was born not by the order of nature, nor by the law of marriage, nor by the power of the flesh, and yet he was truly Abraham’s own son. He came from bodies that were dead and from a womb that was dead. His conception was not by the flesh, nor his birth by seed, for the womb was dead through both age and barrenness; the word of God formed him. It was not so with the slave woman’s son. He came by the laws of nature and in the ordinary way of marriage. And yet the son who was not born according to the flesh was more honorable than the one who was.

So do not let it trouble you that you were not born according to the flesh. For the very reason that you were not born so, you are Abraham’s kin more than anyone. Being born according to the flesh makes a person not more honorable but less, for a birth not according to the flesh is more wonderful and more spiritual. This is plain from those born long ago. Ishmael, for instance, who was born according to the flesh, was not only a slave but was driven out of his father’s house; while Isaac, who was born according to the promise, being a true son and free, was lord of all.

Verse 24: “These things contain an allegory.” [m]

He calls a type an allegory, which is not the usual way of speaking. His meaning is this: the history not only declares what appears on its surface, but announces something further, and that is why it is called an allegory. And what has it announced? Nothing less than all the things now present.

Verse 24: “For these women,” he says, “are two covenants: one from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery, which is Hagar.”

“These” — who? The mothers of those children, Sarah and Hagar. And what are they? Two covenants, two laws. Since the women’s names were given in the history, he keeps to these names for the two peoples, showing how much follows from the very names. How from the names?

Verse 25: “Now this Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia.”

The slave woman was called Hagar, and “Hagar” is the name for Mount Sinai in the language of that country. So all who are born of the old covenant must be slaves, since the mountain where the old covenant was given has a name in common with the slave woman. And it takes in Jerusalem too, for this is the meaning of Verse 25: “And answers to the Jerusalem that now is.”

That is, it borders on it and lies next to it. [n]

Verse 25: “For she is in slavery with her children.”

What follows from this? Not only that she was a slave and bore slaves, but that this covenant, of which the slave woman was a type, is in slavery too. For Jerusalem lies next to the mountain that shares its name with the slave woman, and on this mountain the covenant was given.

Now where is the type of Sarah? Verse 26: “But the Jerusalem above is free.”

So those who are born of her are not slaves. The type of the Jerusalem below, then, was Hagar, as is plain from the mountain being called by her name; but the type of the Jerusalem above is the church. Yet he is not content with these types. He adds the testimony of Isaiah to what he has said. Having said that the Jerusalem above “is our mother,” and having given that name to the church, he calls on the prophet to cast his vote on his side: Verse 27: “Rejoice, you barren woman who does not bear; break forth and cry out, you who are not in labor; for the children of the desolate woman are more than those of the woman who has the husband” (Isaiah 54, verse 1).

Who is this woman who before was “barren” and “desolate”? Clearly it is the church from among the Gentiles, which before had been without the knowledge of God. And who is “the woman who has the husband”? Plainly the synagogue. Yet the barren woman surpassed her in the number of her children. The one takes in a single nation, but the children of the church have filled the lands of the Greeks and of the barbarians, the earth and the sea, the whole inhabited world. [o]

See how Sarah by her actions, and the prophet by his words, described what was going to happen to us. Notice, too, that the woman Isaiah called barren, Paul has proved to have many children — and this also happened, as a type, in Sarah’s case. For she too, though barren, became the mother of a great many descendants. But this is not enough for Paul. He carefully traces the way in which the barren woman became a mother, so that in this point too the type might agree with the truth. That is why he adds, Verse 28: “Now we, brothers and sisters, like Isaac, are children of promise.”

It is not only that the church was barren like Sarah, or became the mother of many children like her; she bore them in the same way Sarah did. It was not nature but the promise of God that made Sarah a mother — for the word of God that said, “At the appointed time I will return to you, and Sarah will have a son” (Genesis 18, verse 14), entered the womb and formed the child. So too in our new birth, it is not nature but the words of God spoken by the priest — the faithful know them — that form the one being baptized and give him new birth, in the bath of water as in a kind of womb.

So if we are sons of the barren woman, then we are free. But someone might object: “What kind of freedom is this, when the Jews seize and flog the believers, and those who claim this freedom are persecuted?” For these things were happening then, in the persecution of the faithful. He replies: “Do not let this trouble you either. This too was foreshadowed in the type, for Isaac, who was free, was persecuted by Ishmael the slave.” That is why he adds, Verses 29 and 30: “But just as then the one born according to the flesh persecuted the one born according to the Spirit, so it is now. But what does the Scripture say (Genesis 21, verse 10)? ‘Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman will not inherit with the son of the free woman.’” [q]

“What! Does all this comfort amount to showing that free people are persecuted by slaves?” He says: “Far from it. I do not stop here. Listen to what follows, and then, if you are not faint-hearted under persecution, you will be comforted enough.”

And what is it that follows? “Cast out the son of the slave woman, for he will not inherit with the son of the free woman.” See the reward of lording it over another for a season, and of recklessness out of season! The son is driven out of his father’s house, and with his mother becomes an exile and a wanderer. Consider, too, the wisdom of the remark. He does not say that he was driven out merely because he persecuted, but so that he would not be heir. This punishment was not exacted from him for his short-lived persecution — that would have been a small matter, and beside the point. Rather, he was not allowed to share in the inheritance provided for the son.

And this proves that, persecution aside, this very thing had been foreshadowed from the beginning, and that it arose not from the persecution but from the purpose of God. Nor does he say, “The son of Abraham will not be heir,” but “the son of the slave woman,” marking him out by his lower birth. [r]

Now Sarah was barren, and so is the church of the Gentiles. Notice how the type is kept in every detail. The one conceived nothing through all the years gone by, and in extreme old age became a mother; so the other gives birth when the fullness of time has come. And the prophets proclaimed this, saying, “Rejoice, you barren woman who does not bear; break forth and cry out, you who are not in labor; for the children of the desolate woman are more than those of the woman who has the husband.” By this they mean the church. She did not know God; but as soon as she knew him, she surpassed the fruitful synagogue.

Verse 31: “So then, brothers and sisters, we are not children of a slave woman, but of the free woman.”

He turns this over and discusses it from every side, wanting to prove that what had happened was nothing new, but had been foreshadowed many ages before. How, then, can it be anything but absurd for those who had been set apart so long, and who had gained their freedom, to put themselves willingly under the yoke of slavery?

Next he gives them another reason to hold fast to his teaching.