Where Did This Gospel Come From?

Galatians 1:11-12

“For I neither received it from man, nor was I taught it, but it came through the revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:12).

In 49 AD a delegation of Judean religious teachers came to the predominately Gentile church at Syrian Antioch and started teaching the Christians that those who were not circumcised as followers of the law of Moses could not be saved from their sin by simple belief in Jesus (Acts 15:1). They were part of a conspiracy to undermine the Gospel of grace sending emissaries of the lie to the daughter churches planted by the church at Antioch (Acts 15:23).

The most vulnerable to the lie were the fledgling assemblies of the Roman province of Galatia. Paul and Barnabas had planted these churches on their first missionary journey (Acts 13-14). One historian describes the inhabitants of Galatia: “Fickleness is the term used to express their temperament. Their religious tendencies were marked by passion, ritualism, and mysticism.” (Lightfoot, The Epistle of Paul to the Galatians)

Paul’s response is swift and strong. He will not tolerate this false gospel—that works are essential to salvation—to take root in the lives of these new Christians and churches. On the eve of the Jerusalem Council, Paul writes his most passionate letter, reminding the church of the real basis of our salvation.

In the first section of the epistle proper (1:11-2:21) Paul defends his apostleship. He begins by vindicating his gospel. The source of the gospel he taught was divine, not human. Paul received his gospel and the commission to preach it directly from the Lord Jesus Christ on road to Damascus (1:11-12):

Like the sweetest water from a high mountain spring, the gospel Paul taught refreshes because of its divine source—direct revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Jesus told Paul to offer deliverance from darkness, Satan and guilt by faith in Him!

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Ever had one of those days that you suddenly lost control of?

If your days are like Judy’s, and mine, it doesn’t take much to send them into a tailspin. Like you, we get up every morning with a lot more on our schedule than we could possibly accomplish—even if everything went just right, just as we planned it. Our days are so packed there isn’t much margin for error.

And then…

• As you’re speeding to work or your first task, late already, you decide to chance the Starbucks drive through window. The line’s too long, six cars in front of you, but you need your caffeine jolt. As you (more…)

There must be some way for Christian marketers to track down my twitter account because I get these “Christian T’s” messages in my tweets.

I’m not techy enough to block them.

But I couldn’t help wondering why the Christian community is so desperate to wear their faith on their sleeve.

I have to tell you that from the perspective of someone who came out of darkness (by that, I mean I wasn’t a church kid), a lot of these t-shirt messages would just flat turn me off.

So, I’m just saying. If you’re going to wear your faith on your sleeve, please don’t wear a mean faith.

And think about what the people reading your t-shirt message are reading from your life.

Where did the term Jesus Freak come from?

Jesus freak was a slanderous term they called us in the Jesus Movement of the 60s and 70s. It came from two sources. First, the secular culture we came out of–the radical counterculture of the 60s–called us Jesus Freaks. Second, the institutional church–the religious hall monitors who rejected us because of our long hair and rock music–called us Jesus Freaks.

And guess what? We didn’t care. If a freak is someone who is radically different from all others, we wanted to be freaks for Jesus.

So we embraced it.

Who were the first Jesus Freaks?

We weren’t the first Jesus Freaks. It all began with Twelve Jesus Freaks that Jesus called His disciples. They were freakishly committed to Him and abandoned themselves to His care.

Oh yeah, and one more thing, they turned the world upside down for Jesus!

Are You One?

A Jesus Freak, I mean. If you’re a Christian, you should be. When people talk about your life they should be talking about your freakish devotion to Him and your freakish faith in Him.

Ted and Jo Stone

Paul introduced himself to the Romans with these words, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ….”

The Apostle of grace wanted to get one thing straight with the sophisticated, dominating Roman mindset: In all of his years of studying the Scriptures, conversations about Jesus, leading the church and planting churches, debating with doubters and enemies of the faith, writing epistles and delivering sermons, he remained focused on the central truth of Christianity—the Good News that Jesus gives eternal life freely to all who believe (Romans 1:16-17).

A few days ago I spoke at my Jesus Movement pastor, Ted Stone’s memorial service.

The temptation at such an event is always the same. “Everyone here’s not only a Christian, but in this case, mostly mature believers with thorough knowledge of the Bible,” I thought to myself. “Maybe I should go deep and do something from the Psalms that would comfort them something new and different about the grieving process.”

I’m so thankful that I decided, as always, that there’s just no better news than the gospel of Christ.

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After I finished my book, When God Breaks Your Heart, detailing my journey of faith living with a deadly disease, I thought I had said it all.

I’m discovering that there are days I just have to tell you one more thing. Today is one of those days.

It was April in 2000 when I wrote this desperate prayer and accompanying plea from Scripture in my journal:

Father, please give me ministry in my grandchildren’s lives. “Let Your work appear to Your servants, and Your glory to their children” (Psalm 90:16).

If you knew me back then or you’ve read the book, you know how bold that request was. I had nearly died in March and had not improved much since. The doctors were suspecting lymphoma, and following test after test, what they called my “numbers” refused to turn around.

I remember the day I wrote those sentences in my blood-stained journal vividly. Tears flowed as I begged God to let me have some influence in my grandchildren’s lives. Back then I was only thinking of two–Jackson and Megan.

I’m writing these words from my son’s home in Atlanta, where we just greeted Amelia Joy,who joins Jackson, Megan, Camryn, Mary, and Wyatt. Grandchild number 7–Zachary James–is now 10 months old.

I’m thinking of Saturday, the 10th of January 2009, when I spent the day with Amelia’s older sister and brother, Mary and Wyatt. I watched Mary’s skating lessons and Wyatt’s hockey practice. I was vaguely aware of some other children on the ice, but my heart glued my attention to one little twirling princess and one little bruiser in pads.

On the way home, Wyatt put his little arms around my neck and shouted, “We’re best pals!”

The Spirit reminded me one more time of the power of prayer and the comfort of being loved by a God who is perfectly reliable and strong.

I don’t know what’s breaking your heart today, but I suspect something is.

God knows, and He loves it when you ask Him for big things. You never know, He might just say yes.

Just like He did for me.

Thank you, Father, for hearing my desperate prayer. And for that almost-nine-years-later reminder from a blue-eyed little hockey star that You, not my doctors, number my days.