I am afraid of you, lest indeed I have laboured in vain as to you.
Paul has just reminded the Galatians that they are sons of God, not slaves. Now he watches them count days, months, and seasons, as if God's favour ran on a calendar. His reaction is not mild disappointment. It is fear that his whole work among them may have come to nothing.
The fear is not about some future collapse. It is about work already done, and whether that work ever had any real substance. One writer draws this out from the grammar of the sentence itself:
Galatians 4:11 means: as a present fact, the labour may be in vain. There is no future purpose in view. He fears about the character of the labour he has already spent on them.
A close rendering of the Greek keeps the same edge, and shows how deliberate the Galatians' calendar-keeping was:
Days you are scrupulously observing, and months, and seasons, and years. I am frightened about you, lest perhaps I have toiled without reason for you.
Keeping special days looks harmless. One writer names what lies underneath it, and where it leads:
They were keeping days and months, seasons and years, as if an outward ritual could secure blessing. Anyone in his natural state, Jew or pagan, could carry out such a ritual. True, in his letter to the Romans the Apostle tells Gentile believers to bear with a Jewish believer. That believer might still cling to special days and refuse certain foods. But here he shows what happens if a Gentile goes back to a system of set days and ceremonies. He returns not only to Judaism, but to the idolatry of paganism.
Paul also wrote to a church at Corinth that was full of open moral failure. He never spoke to them like this. One writer draws out the comparison, quoting an older translation that reads "I am afraid of you":
"I am afraid of you, in case I have spent my labour on you in vain." Whatever the evil among the Corinthians was, he never says of them, "I am afraid of you." Is that not very solemn? Suppose we had known a church with so much open moral evil in it, and some of them even trying to overthrow the resurrection. Would we not have said that nothing was more pitiable than their state? Yet the apostle writes to them in confidence that they would come out of their evil.
A person can keep the whole calendar without any change of heart. That is why their new habit raised a hard question:
If the Apostle looked at these Galatians only by what they were doing, he might well doubt whether they were true Christians. You do not have to be converted to keep days and seasons.
Setting some times apart as holy says something about all the other times:
"You observe days and months and seasons and years" (v.10). This was formalism, designed to draw attention to themselves. It assumed they owed God more righteousness at some times than at others. Such actions quietly approve unrighteousness on "ordinary" days.
Legalism looks good, and that is why it deceives. One writer sets out what actually produces holiness:
Legalism is a deceptive thing, because it looks good. Where it takes hold, people imagine they are becoming more holy. The opposite is true. Real holiness does not come from the name of a day, or an hour, or a season, or a place. It comes from God working in the soul, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. This is so because the believer is "sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ." God brings the believer into His own presence, and puts him there as a child.
Paul's alarm did not make him give them up. He held two views of the Galatians at once. It depended on whether he looked at their behaviour or at their place in Christ. The words quoted here come from later in the same letter:
When Paul looked at them in their confusion, away from Christ, he could only say, "I stand in doubt of you." But when he looked at them as in Christ, he could say, "I have confidence in you through the Lord."
His remedy is not stricter rules. It is a fresh start in grace, right back at the first lessons:
Legalism had so twisted the truth in their souls that they needed to be rooted and grounded in the first lessons of grace all over again. They had lost their hold of the cross, and the apostle stood in doubt of them. They might look very zealous. But as for any witness to Christ, or any enjoyment of Him in their souls, all was gone.
- Labour. Paul fears for work already done, not work still ahead. Did his toil among them have any real substance?
- Alarm. Open sin at Corinth never drew this word from him. A religious calendar in Galatia did. That shows where the deeper danger lay.
- Cause. Keeping days treats ritual as the way to win blessing, and makes ordinary days count for less.
- Test. Anyone can keep a season without new life, so the practice left Paul unsure whether they were converted.
- Hope. Their behaviour made him doubt; their place in Christ gave him confidence. He set out to ground them in grace again, since real holiness comes from God working in the soul, not from marked days.
Be as *I* [am], for *I* also [am] as *ye*, brethren, I beseech you ye have not at all wronged me.
Paul stops arguing here and points at himself: become what I am. Three questions follow. What was Paul that they should copy him? How was he already like them? And what wrong did they think they had done him?
The command is short and open-ended, so what does Paul mean? One commentator answers from the argument of the letter. (The writers quote an older translation, which reads "Be as I am.")
"Be as I am." By this he plainly means — free from law. "For I am as you are." They were, after all, Gentiles, and as such ought to have had nothing to do with the law. So he calls on them to be as free of the law as himself. For he, though a Jew, had completely done with the law, and all that goes with it. Others despised his freedom, but he does not treat it as a fair reproach. He glories in it. There was no insult to him, and no injury done, in saying that he did not hold the law to be binding on a Christian.
The second half of the sentence is the more startling one. A Jew with every religious advantage steps onto Gentile ground, and will not count it a loss.
"Be as I am," he says. Once he had been a specialist in the Jewish religion, now he was free from it. Christ had made him free. "I am as you are." The once proud Jew was on the same footing of grace as a Gentile Galatian. Grace had made them one in Christ. Paul would not allow that it was an injury for a Gentile to claim him as on the same ground. Peter had winced at it, and refused to live as a Gentile when certain men arrived from James. How hard it is for poor flesh to be nothing in the presence of grace!
Why mention injury at all? One commentator hears Paul take up the accusation against him and answer it: I am free — be free too.
They were ready, as we have seen, to despise the apostle. So he says to them, with cutting irony that still came from the depths of a wounded heart, "Be as I am." The Galatians wanted to live under Jewish law. They accused the apostle of being no better than the Gentiles he ate with. They said he refused to circumcise their children, had freed himself from the Jewish yoke, and lived as a Gentile. Be then as I am, he says, free from this yoke, for I, like you Gentiles, am free from the law. You have not wronged me at all — I am free; be free also.
Another writer hears reassurance in the words, not irony. He draws a lesson for anyone who has to correct someone.
Perhaps this was to reassure the Galatians that, as he said later on, he was not their enemy. Some of them might have thought they had attacked Paul, and that he would be angry at them. No, he said, "you have not at all wronged me." What can we learn from this? Where there was a doctrinal disagreement he did not take things personally. This is also a lesson for us.
Paul has just been sharp with them. Correction often pushes people away.
He had written with angry astonishment and injured love. He scolded them for deserting him, and for being ashamed of him and of his teaching, because a stranger and destroyer had talked them into it. But reproach, though welcome to the truly wise, too often has an alienating effect on flesh and blood. The blamer stands, or seems to stand, on a different and higher platform than the blamed. Nobody understood this better than the apostle. He does not take back his sharp words. Instead he pours the healing balm of a full and complete sympathy into the wounds they made.
The tenderness shows in how he addresses them and how he ends.
How tender the apostle becomes towards his dear brothers, his children in the faith! Once more he uses that sweet name "brothers." Then at the end he adds that sweet little word, "I beseech you!" Can we not see these words flowing out from a heart that is ready to break with love and sorrow! What earnestness, what severity, what fervour, what tenderness, what love — all combined. Surely it tells us of the heart of Christ toward us, when we turn away from Himself.
- Free. "Become as I am" means one thing in this letter: free from the law. Paul had finished with the law, and he gloried in that freedom instead of apologising for it.
- Level. "I am as you are" is a Jew stepping onto Gentile ground. Grace put them on one footing, and Peter's shrinking from that same step shows how hard it is for flesh to be nothing.
- Unoffended. Their charge that he no longer kept the law did him no injury at all. He would not carry a personal grievance out of a doctrinal quarrel.
- Entreated. He does not withdraw the sharp words; he adds sympathy to them. "I beseech you" is the appeal of a breaking heart, and it mirrors Christ's heart toward those who drift from Him.
But ye know that in weakness of the flesh I announced the glad tidings to you at the first;
The Galatians first heard the gospel from Paul because something was wrong with his body. That detail becomes an argument in Paul's hands, and it raises two questions: what was this weakness, and why did God work through it?
Paul had been heading somewhere else. Sickness held him in Galatia, and one writer sees more than bad timing in it:
We do not know what this weakness was. But it clearly hindered the Apostle in his journey and kept him in the place where he "happened" to be. This was one of those interruptions to our plans that annoy us so much. But let us remember: God orders these interruptions. Paul, no doubt, was pressing on to some field of work for the Lord ahead. Instead, he falls sick.
Scripture does not say. One writer leaves the gap open and looks instead at how Paul came to them:
So far from coming in anything that suggested confidence in the flesh, or authority, he came as a suffering man. He only touches on it here; 2 Corinthians 12 says much more. We are not told what it was. It might have been some peculiarity in his speech, or his appearance. We know it was something to do with his body: it was "in his flesh." But one thing is clear, and moving. The more God led the apostle on and blessed him, the deeper the marks of suffering, weakness and shame he wore in his person. The thorn in the flesh followed his being caught up into the third heaven.
Commentators differ on the cause. One writer traces it back to an earlier attack on Paul:
The stoning of Paul, even to the point of death, took place near the end of his first journey, as recorded in Acts 14:19. It is more than likely that there is a connection between the two events, and that this "temptation … in my flesh" resulted from the ill-treatment that he received, and is the same as the "thorn in the flesh," of which he writes in 2 Corinthians 12:7.
Paul says the gospel came to them because of his weakness. One writer weighs what that small word carries:
The force seems to be the moral source of the character of what is produced. So in Galatians 4:13, "in weakness." Weakness of the flesh was the moral source of the character of his preaching. In Philippians 1:15, envy was the moral source of the character of the preaching for some, and goodwill was for others.
The Galatians' own memory of how Paul arrived answers the question of flesh and status:
How had he appeared among them when he first came as an ambassador of Christ? Was there anything in his teaching, or in his presence and condition, to suggest — much less enforce — differences between one person's flesh and another's? He preached God's gospel to them. But in his own presence and manner he was to them, as he was also to the Corinthians, a spectacle of personal weakness — more likely to stir contempt than admiration. But they had thought only of his words, which fell like the dew of God upon their souls.
The weakness was not an obstacle God worked around. It showed whose power was at work:
What was the apostle Paul's subject of glory? Not what he was, nor what he had done, but his weaknesses. In fellowship with God he had learned that his strength was in God. If, in weakness of the flesh (Gal. 4:13), he had been the means of many conversions, it was because the power of God was with him. So for Christ's sake he took pleasure in weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and calamities.
- Weakness detained him. An illness stopped Paul's journey and kept him in Galatia. God ordered that interruption, and the Galatians heard the gospel.
- Weakness stayed hidden. Scripture never names the illness. Some link it to the stoning in Acts 14:19 and to the thorn in the flesh, but commentators differ.
- Weakness shaped the preaching. His weakness was the moral source of the character of the preaching he brought them.
- Weakness silenced boasting. He came as a spectacle of weakness, more likely to stir contempt than admiration. Nothing in the messenger suggested differences between one person's flesh and another's.
- Weakness carried the power. The deeper the marks of suffering, the clearer it was that God's power did the work. That is why Paul made his weaknesses his glory.
and my temptation, which [was] in my flesh, ye did not slight nor reject with contempt; but ye received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus.
Paul reminds the Galatians how he first came to them: sick, weak, and unimpressive — and they welcomed him anyway. The question behind the verse is why people who once received him as heaven's own messenger later turned against him.
Older Bibles call this trial a "temptation," but the word means a test. It points to a real physical affliction that Paul carried.
"God did tempt Abraham" when He told him to offer up Isaac. Gen. 22:1. God tried him, putting his faith to the test. Paul speaks of his thorn in the flesh as his 'temptation': it was a trial or test. Gal. 4:14.
What is clear is not what it was, but when it came and why.
Far from arriving with any air of self-confidence and authority, he came as a suffering man... We are not told what it was. We know it was something connected with his bodily state: it was "in his flesh." But this is clear, and moving: the more God led him on and blessed him, the deeper the marks of suffering, weakness and shame he wore in his person. The thorn in the flesh came after God took him up into the third heaven. This messenger of Satan struck him, and God turned it to excellent account: it kept the apostle low in his own eyes, and even in the eyes of others.
The weakness may well have been the reason he stopped in Galatia at all. It also put the people who took him in to the test.
It seems Paul had not intended to preach the good news to the Galatians. But sickness of some kind kept him among them... We do not know what this weakness was. But it clearly hindered the apostle in his journey, and kept him in the place where he "happened" to be. It was one of those interruptions to our plans which often make us so cross. But let us remember that God orders these interruptions... It was a trial to them — "your trial in my flesh," he calls it — but that made no difference to their love and their welcome.
His condition gave them every excuse to look down on him. They did not, and that points to what held their attention.
His thorn in the flesh was a real trouble to the devoted apostle, and made some people look down on him as a speaker. But when the Spirit is at work, souls are occupied with the message, not with the messenger. So it had been in Galatia. Had he been an angel straight from heaven, or even Christ Himself, they could not have welcomed him more warmly or with more thanks.
Nothing in his appearance drew them. What drew them was the love that reached them through a frail man.
No show of personal strength or ability had attracted them. Yet they received him as an angel of God, and more, "as Christ Jesus" (v.14). He came to them in grace, as Christ had come to the world. They received him, not because of power, but because of love and grace. The energy and warmth of the love of God only shone the more brightly in the weakness of the vessel.
Writers have wondered what his trouble was. The Galatians looked past it to the One who sent him.
Paul ended the letter with some words in his own hand, which may suggest a problem with his eyesight, but Scripture gives us no further word on this. There are also signs that he may have had a speech difficulty, and that people would naturally tend to despise him for it, but we cannot be sure about this either. When Paul came to Galatia, they did not reproach him. They did not reject or despise him. They received him "as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus." Paul was truly there as Christ's representative.
Paul brings up this memory because the welcome had collapsed. That collapse was more serious than a broken friendship.
The apostle starts by expressing his amazement at the inconsistency of the Galatians. There was a time when they had received him "as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus" (Gal. 4:14). Now their attitude had changed completely. They were questioning his authority. But something even more serious was happening. In rejecting him they were also rejecting the gospel he preached — the only true gospel.
- Trial. The word translated "trial" means a test. Abraham faced the same kind of testing. Paul's was physical, real, and never named for us.
- Timing. The thorn came after the greatest revelation of his life. The more God blessed him, the deeper the marks he carried — and they kept him low in his own eyes.
- Interruption. Sickness, not planning, seems to have kept him in Galatia. God orders the interruptions that wreck our plans.
- Reception. His condition tested them, yet they welcomed him. Strength and ability never drew them; love did. God's love shone brighter, not dimmer, through a weak man.
- Reversal. A welcome fit for Christ's own representative turned into suspicion. In turning against the messenger, they turned against his gospel.
What then [was] your blessedness? for I bear you witness that, if possible, plucking out your own eyes ye would have given [them] to me.
Paul is not scolding the Galatians. He is reminding them of what they have lost: a gladness they once talked about, and a love for him so warm that no sacrifice seemed too great. His question asks them to compare what they were with what they have become, and to name what caused the change.
The word is not vague happiness. One commentator ties it to Paul's own use of the same term in Romans:
That had been a happy situation, "blessedness." This is the same word Paul used in Romans 4:8, where he spoke of the blessedness of the believer: "blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin." That is the blessedness the Galatians had when they believed the gospel.
Another writer points to what produced it:
What then was this blessedness of which their hearts and lips were once so full?… With grateful and joyful gladness these Galatians gave voice to the peace and happiness that filled their hearts. It was the effect of the righteousness that Paul had preached.
Paul asks where it went. Something took its place.
"What then has become of your blessedness?" Paul asked his Galatian converts. Ah, where has it gone? They had bartered the blessedness of grace for the blight of legal observances. They traded liberty for bondage, joy for sorrow, and Christianity for Judaism — a sad exchange indeed. How easily the power of life is frittered away, and the Spirit of God slighted.
Paul points to how they once treated him. He arrived weak and unimpressive:
He then reminds them of their love to him when he first came among them preaching the gospel. In those days they received him as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus. They did so even though he was among them in weakness, without "lofty speech or wisdom" to appeal to the natural man (1 Corinthians 2:4)… Their love for him was so great that, if possible, they would have given him their own eyes to meet his bodily weakness.
Did that weakness involve his eyes? One writer leaves the question open and hears the words first as strong feeling:
The apostle's strong, unusual words fit the very expressive and excitable character of the Gaulish people. There may or may not be a reference to eye disease in them, as a feature of the "weakness of the flesh" he had mentioned. People speak like this in ordinary life when they feel deep gratitude and personal attachment. Outbursts of real feeling are seldom limited to literal truth, and the more eager the speaker's nature, the more extravagant the words.
So where did the gladness go? One writer names what they exchanged, and what it cost:
The cause was all too clear. They had exchanged God for man in turning back from grace to law, and the natural consequences followed. Love is of God, and it lasts only while we know and enjoy Him. In other words, only faith can produce it or keep it alive. And the law is not of faith… They spoke of blessedness no longer, because the dew of God's blessing was no longer on their souls.
The question is not an accusation but a summons back. It belongs with other places in Scripture where God recalls His people to what they once knew:
He makes us know that as we cannot do without His love, so neither can He do without ours. It is truly wonderful; yet so it is. He will keep the soul up to the old terms. Listen to those touching appeals of the Spirit of Christ to His people in earlier days. "You have abandoned the love you had at first." "Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first" (Revelation 2). "Recall the former days" (Hebrews 10:32). "What then has become of your blessedness?" (Galatians 4:15).
What they lost was no small thing:
We do not know the power of the thought that God's favour is toward us — the greatest lever that can be put under the soul. The Galatians knew it at the time the apostle looked back to.
- Received. The blessedness is the one Romans describes: the gladness of a person whose sin God does not count against him. It came from the righteousness Paul preached.
- Spoken. It was so real that their hearts and lips were full of it — a joy they talked about, not just held.
- Given. It overflowed into love for the messenger. They welcomed a weak, unimpressive preacher as an angel of God, and would have handed him their own eyes.
- Bartered. Nothing stole it; they traded it. Grace went for law, liberty for bondage, joy for sorrow — and love does not last once we stop knowing and enjoying God.
- Recalled. God holds the soul to the old terms. His question wins wandering hearts back to His favour — the greatest lever under the soul.