Galatians 3:23-29 | Proper 7, Year C
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
What are the events that changed your life? The big ones. The ones where nothing was ever quite the same afterward. A wedding day. A graduation. A baby placed into your arms for the first time. Or maybe—your first car. (You remember that moment. The keys jingling in your hand like freedom itself.) These are the kind of events that divide your life into before and after. You don’t go back to the old way. You’ve grown up. You’ve moved on.
Some events change your status overnight. You go from single to married, student to graduate, dependent to parent. One moment you’re waiting, the next your name is called, the keys are handed over, the baby is placed in your arms—and life is no longer what it was. You’ve crossed a line. Something new has begun. Paul, in our reading from Galatians 3 today, talks about just such a moment—only bigger. A cosmic turning point. A change so complete, so final, that nothing about your relationship with God is ever the same again.
I. Our time under the Law (3:23-24)
Paul didn’t write his letter to Galatians because everything was fine. He wrote because some were saying, “Jesus isn’t enough.” Sure, He died for you—but now you’ve got some work to do. Circumcision, Sabbath-keeping, kosher food, all of Moses’s 613 commands. Salvation included a to-do list. You had to keep the Law. What is the Law? The Law is God’s will in command form. God gave the Law to Moses for Israel. Gentiles weren’t under the Mosaic Law—but that didn’t let them off the hook. They still had the Law written on their hearts, etched into conscience, whispering (or shouting) right and wrong.
Paul begins with what life was under the Law. “Now before faith came, we were held captive under the law, imprisoned until the coming faith would be revealed. So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith” (Galatians 3:23–24). He uses two sharp metaphors: First, the Law is like a prison warden.
It tells us what to do and what not to do. And it doesn’t just inform—it accuses. It holds up a mirror and says, “This is who you are.” And that’s the problem. Because we all fall short. Every one of us has disobeyed. And the Law doesn’t overlook guilt. It sentences. It condemns. It locks the door.
Paul says we were “held captive under the Law.” That’s courtroom and prison language. You are under arrest. The Law has done its job—and you are the guilty one. And there’s no appeal, no loophole, no early release for good behavior. The Law has you dead to rights.
And Paul’s words are severe on purpose. Being “held captive” under the Law is like being hemmed in by guards. You’re not just stuck—you’re sealed in. There’s no way out. Like fish caught in a net or a city under siege, you’re trapped with no escape route. That’s what the Law does. It doesn’t let you wiggle your way out with good intentions or spiritual creativity.
Second, the Law is like a harsh guardian or tutor—what we might call today a strict nanny or overbearing babysitter. This isn’t your grandma tucking you in at night. This is a disciplinarian—a slave assigned to keep you in line. Rod in hand, ready to swat. You weren’t being tutored; you were being tamed. That’s what life under the Law is like. It leads with fear. It disciplines with severity. It’s not supposed to be cozy. It’s supposed to wear you down until you cry out for rescue.
But here’s the surprise: That’s not a flaw in the system. That’s the purpose of the Law. To stop our excuses. To leave our mouths silent. To strip away all hope in ourselves. To make us desperate for Jesus. That’s why Paul adds that key time reference: “Before faith came …” In other words, the Law was doing its work until Christ came to do His. It’s temporary. It’s preparatory. It’s the darkness before dawn. The prison before the pardon. The babysitter before the Father comes home.
This isn’t just some ancient heresy—it’s a modern temptation. And it doesn’t always show up wearing a Pharisee’s robe. Sometimes it looks like your spiritual checklist. We call this legalism. It’s the belief—and the habit—of thinking we can make ourselves acceptable to God by keeping the rules. Salvation involves a to-do list. Sometimes those rules are man-made—no dancing, no drinking, no cards, no jeans in church. But even when the rules come from Scripture, we can twist them when we think obeying them is what makes God love us.
And let’s be honest: we’re all prone to it. Maybe you think God’s happy with you today because you read your Bible and said your prayers. Maybe you feel like you’ve lost His favor because you missed a few Sundays or snapped at your spouse. That’s legalism creeping in. It’s not just a theology—it’s a posture of the heart. It says keeping God’s rules is the main thing in your life. That what God wants most from you is obedience, rule-following, behavior management.
Don’t mistake this for a knock on sanctification—growing in holiness, striving to love your neighbor, putting sin to death—that’s not legalism; that’s life in Christ, flowing from the freedom you already have. So be on guard. Legalism isn’t just out there—it’s in here, in us. And it always sounds so holy. But it leads away from Jesus because it’s Salvation plus a to-do list. The Law tells you what to do. The Gospel tells you what’s already been done—for you. And that’s the difference between slavery and freedom.
II. God’s action through Christ (3:25-29)
But Christ has come. And everything has changed. “But now that faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian, for in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith” (Galatians 3:25–26). The Law had a job. It was meant to guard us, restrain us, convict us. But it was always temporary—meant to end in Christ. And that’s exactly what happened. “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son.”
This is the life-changing event. The event to end all others. The Son of God took on flesh. Born of a woman. Born under the Law. Born into the prison so He could bust us out. Jesus kept the Law perfectly. Yes, we are saved by good works—but not our own. We are saved by Christ’s good works. He fulfilled every demand. He dotted every “i” and crossed every “t.” Then He was cursed by it. He didn’t deserve it—but He took it. All the condemnation, all the guilt, all the judgment you and I had earned—He bore it in our place. And by His death, He set us free. And then He gave that perfect record to you.
That’s your redemption. The price has been paid. The shackles are broken. The door is open. But God didn’t stop there. He didn’t just set the slaves free. He adopted them. You’re not just forgiven—you’re family. You don’t stand before God as a criminal begging for a pardon. You stand as a child climbing into your Father’s arms.
That’s how Paul puts it: “Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” The Son redeems you. The Spirit assures you. The Father embraces you.
So don’t act like you’re still on probation. Don’t live like the Law still has a hold on you. The heart of the Christian life isn’t Law—it’s Christ. Salvation does not include to-do list because Jesus already did it all. It’s all about Christ for you. Christ in you. Christ working through you. The babysitter has gone home. The jailer has no authority. You are free. Grown. Adopted. Loved. You are “in Christ.” That’s Paul’s favorite phrase. It means you’re united to Jesus—so closely, so intimately, that what belongs to Him now belongs to you. His righteousness is your clothing. His inheritance is your birthright. His life is your life.
And how did you come to be “in Christ”? Paul says it plainly: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” (Galatians 3:27). Baptism is no empty ritual. It is God’s act of adoption. It’s where the robe was placed on you. It’s where the name was given. It’s where the family line was drawn around you in water and Word. And that’s what the Baptism does. It roots you. Anchors you. Gives you identity. You are not a drifter. You are not a cosmic orphan. In Christ, you’ve come home.
And that means no one gets to claim superiority—not by race, not by status, not by gender. “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). That’s not erasing distinctions—it’s removing walls. You’re still male or female, still from your family, your culture, your background. But those things no longer divide you. There’s no caste system in the Body of Christ. No spiritual pecking order.
We don’t come in on our own merit—we come as beggars. And we leave as heirs. That’s the point Paul makes next: “And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise” (Galatians 3:29). Think about that. You’re not an outsider. You belong to the story of God’s people. The promise given to Abraham—that through his seed the nations would be blessed—that promise is yours. You are among those nations who are blessed. In Christ, you are the spiritual descendants of Abraham.
What are the events that changed your life? The big ones. The ones where nothing was ever quite the same afterward. Under the Law there was custody, condemnation, childhood. But now, Christ has come, and with him there is freedom, adoption, maturity. And you—dearly baptized—you have crossed that great turning point. The old life under the Law is behind you. The sentence has been served. The guardian has stepped aside. You are not who you once were. So don’t go back. Don’t chain yourself up again. Don’t trade sonship for slavery. The Law has done its work. It brought you to Jesus. Now cling to Him. Salvation is in Christ alone. In Christ, the Father sees you not as guilty, but as righteous. Not as a prisoner, but as an heir. Not as a child under a guardian, but as a grown son in the household of God. You wear Christ like a robe. He covers you completely. And the Father is well pleased.
May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
"If God is for us, who is against us?" 