Galatians 1:1

Berean Standard Bible

Paul, an apostle—sent not from men nor by man, but by Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised Him from the dead—

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This opening verse of Paul’s letter to the Galatians is both deeply personal and theologically loaded. It immediately establishes the tone and urgency of the letter. Unlike many of his other epistles, which begin with a warm tone of thanksgiving or commendation, Galatians opens with a sharp assertion of authority and divine origin. Paul’s very introduction is a defense of his apostleship, and it carries within it the seeds of the gospel message that he will unfold and fiercely defend throughout the letter.

Paul begins by identifying himself as “an apostle.” This is not merely a title of religious office; it is a theological statement. The Greek word apostolos means “one who is sent.” In the early Church, an apostle was more than a missionary or a church planter. Apostles were foundational figures, appointed directly by Christ, entrusted with proclaiming the gospel and laying the groundwork for the Church (Eph. 2:20). Paul’s apostleship is particularly significant because, unlike the original Twelve, he did not walk with Jesus during His earthly ministry. Therefore, his authority had been contested by some, especially among Judaizing opponents who sought to discredit his message and his mission.

In asserting, “not from men nor through man,” Paul is doing more than clarifying an administrative detail—he is defending the very foundation of his gospel proclamation. This is a deliberate twofold negation. His apostleship is “not from men,” that is, not conferred by any collective human group or ecclesiastical body. Nor is it “through man,” indicating that no human intermediary—no mentor, elder, or bishop—appointed him to his role. His calling did not originate horizontally, but vertically. It did not emerge from religious tradition, nor was it bestowed by institutional recognition. This sets Paul’s message apart from anything driven by human invention or authority. It is not a secondhand gospel.

Rather, Paul states his apostleship came “through Jesus Christ and God the Father.” This is a stunning claim. He is not merely aligning himself with a divine message; he is declaring that the risen Christ Himself commissioned him. This points back to the account in Acts 9, where the glorified Jesus confronted Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus and called him to be His chosen instrument to carry the gospel to the Gentiles. Paul did not seek this role. He was, at that time, a zealous persecutor of the Church. It was the sheer mercy of God that transformed him from an enemy of the gospel into its chief ambassador.

His naming of “Jesus Christ and God the Father” places the Son and the Father together in divine unity as the source of his calling. There is no subordination or distinction of authority between them here; both are the origin of Paul’s commission. Moreover, the phrase “who raised him from the dead” adds significant theological weight. Paul’s apostleship is rooted not only in Christ’s historical resurrection, but in the power and affirmation of that resurrection by God the Father. The resurrection was God’s public declaration that Jesus is the Messiah, the Lord, the Judge, and the Redeemer. It was the great vindication of the cross and the seal of divine approval on Christ’s work.

This resurrection-centered phrase is not incidental. It signals the central theme of Paul’s message: that justification comes through faith in the risen Christ, not through adherence to the law. From the very first sentence, Paul begins to counter the false gospel that was taking root in Galatia—a gospel that added human effort to divine grace. By reminding the Galatians that his apostleship rests on the authority of the risen Lord, Paul is reminding them that the message he brings is not subject to negotiation, nor can it be adjusted to accommodate human traditions.

This introduction also reflects the urgency and the stakes of the epistle. Paul is writing to churches that are being swayed by a different gospel, which is really no gospel at all (Gal. 1:6–7). They are in danger of trading the freedom of Christ for the slavery of legalism. Thus, Paul does not begin with pleasantries. He begins with battle lines. His apostleship is not up for debate because the gospel is not up for debate. To reject his message is to reject the One who sent him.

There is also a broader pastoral implication here. Paul is modeling for the Church what it means to stand firm in one’s calling. He is not swayed by popularity or by pressure. He does not adjust the truth to appease others or to preserve his reputation. His confidence is not in himself but in the One who called him. And for every believer, this is a critical reminder: our identity, our calling, our message—none of these rest on the shifting sands of human approval. They rest on the unchanging will of God.

Furthermore, Paul’s phrase reminds us that the Church’s foundation is supernatural. The Church is not a human institution created by visionary leaders; it is the blood-bought community of those called by God through the gospel of Jesus Christ. Apostles, pastors, teachers, and all members of the body serve not by human credential but by divine appointment and grace. When the Church forgets this—when it begins to measure authority by human standards rather than by fidelity to the gospel—it loses its power and its purity.

In this single verse, then, Paul offers more than a greeting. He asserts the divine origin of his mission, the resurrection power of Christ as its basis, and the absolute authority of the gospel he proclaims. This introduction serves as a theological anchor for the letter and an enduring declaration to the Church: that the gospel of grace is not a human idea, and those who proclaim it do so under the authority of the risen King. To hear Paul is to hear Christ—not because Paul is infallible, but because Christ, by His will and His Word, sent Paul to preach not himself, but Christ crucified and risen.

Galatians 1:1 is not an introduction to be skimmed. It is a theological lightning bolt, striking the ground with clarity and conviction. It summons the Church to remember the origin of its faith, the authority of its message, and the exclusivity of the gospel that saves. It is a call to listen—not to Paul the man, but to Christ the Lord who speaks through him.

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Grace and peace to you, beloved of God, saints purchased by the blood of Christ, heirs of promise, temples of the Holy Spirit. Today we turn to a verse that many would glance over, a verse that to the hurried reader seems like the dusty threshold of a grand cathedral—important to cross, but rarely admired. Yet this verse, the first breath of Paul’s letter to the Galatians, carries the weight of heaven, the fire of divine authority, and the trembling urgency of a soul burning with the truth of the gospel.

“Paul, an apostle—not from men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead.” These are not idle words. They are not polite greetings. They are the sound of a trumpet in a battlefield. They are a line drawn in the sand, dividing what is of God and what is of man, what is eternal and what is passing, what is gospel and what is no gospel at all.

Paul identifies himself first not by experience, not by academic accolades, not even by spiritual gifts—but by calling. “Paul, an apostle.” A man sent. A man commissioned. A man under orders. Not a spiritual entrepreneur. Not a religious philosopher. An apostle. He is one who carries a message not his own. One who bears a mission given by another. And that other is none less than the risen Christ and the Father who raised Him from the dead.

But notice what Paul says next: “Not from men nor through man.” He is not an apostle by human origin. He was not voted into his role. He was not trained into it by rabbinical succession. He did not inherit it by bloodline. His apostleship did not arise horizontally—it descended vertically. It did not bloom in the soil of human approval—it was forged in the fire of divine election. His call came on a dusty road, in the brilliance of uncreated light, when the glorified Christ laid hold of a violent persecutor and transformed him into a chosen instrument.

And why does Paul open this way? Why begin the letter not with warmth or gratitude, but with the thunder of apostolic authority? Because the gospel is under attack. Because the churches of Galatia—churches he planted through suffering and tears—are turning to a different gospel, which is no gospel at all. Because false teachers have crept in, not denying Christ outright, but distorting His work, adding law to grace, mixing the purity of the cross with the polluted waters of human effort. And Paul knows: to alter the gospel is to abandon it. To tamper with grace is to trample on Christ.

So he stakes his ground. He raises the banner of heaven's authority. “This message I preach—I did not receive it from men. It was not taught to me by human wisdom. It came through revelation of Jesus Christ.” His authority is not derivative. His message is not negotiable. His gospel is not man-made, and therefore it cannot be man-altered. What God has spoken, let no man edit. What Christ has accomplished, let no flesh try to supplement.

And how does Paul ground this authority? In Jesus Christ and God the Father, “who raised him from the dead.” That phrase is not decorative. It is declarative. It is the anchor of everything Paul believes, everything Paul preaches, everything Paul is. The resurrection is not a peripheral truth—it is the foundation of the gospel. For if Christ is not raised, then Paul is no apostle. Then there is no cross that saves, no Spirit that indwells, no Church that endures, no hope that lasts. But Christ is raised. And therefore, the One who raised Him has the right to call, to commission, to send, and to speak.

Brothers and sisters, this is not just Paul’s story. This is our foundation too. We must ask ourselves: What is the source of our faith? From where does our confidence come? Is it from men? From tradition? From reputation? From cultural validation? Or is it, like Paul’s apostleship, through Jesus Christ and God the Father? For we live in a generation that loves to listen to voices, but rarely discerns their origin. We are inundated with messages about self-empowerment, moral performance, religious blending, and gospel distortions wrapped in eloquence and charisma. But hear this: if it is not from Christ, it has no life. If it is not through Christ, it has no authority. If it does not exalt Christ, it has no power.

Let us be like Paul—firm, clear, unapologetic about the origin of our hope. Let us stand not on the shifting sands of man’s approval, but on the granite of divine truth. Let us remember that every believer, while not an apostle in office, is a sent one in mission. You are not your own. You were bought with a price. Your life is not random. Your call is not conditional. Your identity is not found in your career, your performance, or your failures—it is found in the One who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.

And if you have been called through Jesus Christ, then you can stand in the face of rejection. You can endure in the face of accusation. You can rejoice in the midst of weakness. For the same One who raised Christ from the dead is the One who holds your life. The gospel does not call us to perform. It calls us to rest in what has already been done. And from that rest, it calls us to rise—sent by grace, clothed in power, anchored in truth.

So let us hold fast to the gospel—not a gospel of human origin, not a gospel polluted by law, not a gospel altered by culture—but the gospel of God. The gospel of the crucified and risen Christ. The gospel that calls, saves, sends, and sustains. And let us echo Paul’s words, not as mere recitation, but as a battle cry for our generation: “Not from men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised Him from the dead.”

To Him be all glory, all power, all dominion, now and forever.

Amen.

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O Lord our God, eternal in majesty, unchanging in purpose, and sovereign in power, we come before You with holy awe, humbled by the weight of Your calling and the glory of Your gospel. We bless You, Father of lights, for You have not left us to wander in darkness or to grope for truth among the rubble of human invention. You have spoken—not through the wisdom of men, nor through the traditions of our making, but through the voice of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who reigns forever and who rose triumphant from the grave. You, O Father, raised Him from the dead and enthroned Him at Your right hand, and from that exalted place He now calls and commissions whom You have chosen.

We thank You, Lord, for Your servant Paul, not made by man, not sent by men, but raised up by Your will, made an apostle through the risen Christ and God the Father. We see in him not a man who climbed to spiritual heights, but a man laid low by mercy, arrested by grace, and raised up by Your divine purpose. His voice, though once filled with threats, now speaks the gospel of peace. His hands, once stained with zealotry, now labor in chains for Christ. His life, once claimed by law, is now yielded to the power of the cross. And we rejoice, O God, for this is not Paul's story alone—it is ours as well. You take rebels and make them sons. You take persecutors and make them preachers. You take the foolish and confound the wise. You choose what is low and despised so that no flesh might boast before You.

O Lord Jesus Christ, risen and glorified, You are the source and substance of our hope. You are not dead in a tomb but alive, exalted, and reigning. You are the one who called Paul, and You are the One who calls us. You did not consult man to send Your servants. You did not require human endorsement to assign divine mission. You speak, and the earth trembles. You call, and dead men rise. You send, and no one can hinder. Let our hearts never forget that our salvation, our calling, our very identity as Your people, does not spring from the will of flesh, nor from the approval of others, but from the will of God, established before time began.

Forgive us, Father, for how quickly we seek validation from men. How prone we are to measure worth by applause, to chase after recognition, to rest our assurance on the opinions of others. But You, O God, have declared us justified in Christ. You have sealed us with the Holy Spirit. You have written our names in the Lamb’s Book of Life. Shall we now look to man for approval? Shall we now dilute the gospel to avoid offense? Shall we reshape the message to preserve comfort? O Lord, let it never be. Grant us the holy boldness of Paul—not rooted in pride, but in the certainty of our calling. Let us speak not to please man, but to glorify God. Let us serve not to gain position, but to proclaim Christ.

Raise up among us a generation of men and women who know they are not sent by men nor through man, but through Jesus Christ. Raise up pastors who fear God more than crowds. Raise up missionaries who are unmoved by rejection. Raise up parents who disciple their children with gospel courage. Raise up workers and servants and elders and evangelists who, like Paul, can say: “I did not receive this from man, but by revelation of Jesus Christ.” And in our daily lives, O Lord, may we walk as those who are sent. May we live with purpose, not as those aimless in the world, but as ambassadors for Christ—declaring not our opinions, but the Word of the living God.

O Father, cause us to remember the power of the resurrection—that the same God who raised Jesus from the dead is the One who sends His people in the power of that victory. Let us never forget that the gospel we carry is anchored not in philosophy but in history—not in ideas, but in the empty tomb. And let that resurrection power strengthen our weary hearts, embolden our trembling voices, and steady our steps when the path grows hard. For if You, O God, have called us, then no rejection can cancel us, no opposition can overthrow us, and no weakness can disqualify us.

So we yield ourselves afresh today. Not to the judgment of man. Not to the systems of this world. Not to the opinions of the crowd. But to the will of God, revealed in Jesus Christ, raised by Your power, and reigning forevermore. May we speak as those sent. May we serve as those called. May we suffer, if You so ordain, as those who bear witness to the cross. And when we are tempted to shrink back, to compromise, to seek comfort rather than faithfulness—remind us again that we were not sent by men, but by the living Christ, and that He who began a good work in us will bring it to completion at the day of His appearing.

To You, O Triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—be all glory, honor, power, and praise, both now and forever.

Amen.