Galatians 4:21-31 · Hagar and Sarah
Exit and Entrance
Galatians 4:21-31
Sermon
by Maxie Dunnam
Loading...

It was in the newspaper back in the late 1950’s, at the height of the civil rights movement - an unforgettable picture which captured not only the emotion of one man, but the deep sense of freedom and joy and release and affirmation of a whole people. A black man, who must have been over 100 years old, was being carried on the shoulders of a group of young men. They were taking him up the steps of a courthouse in a Southern town to register to vote. The caption beneath the picture said he was born a slave.

To a marked degree, he had remained a slave, even after the Emancipation Proclamation. Unable to vote, subjected to the rigid discriminatory demands and tests of others, he was kept in subjection, but now he was free; and the look on his face showed his joy. He was going to express his freedom, his release from the humiliation of being a second—class citizen by registering to vote. That man could have understood Paul’s word in our scripture lesson today. In fact, he and others like him, sang often during those days: “Free at last, free at last! Thank God Almighty I’m free at last.”

In our scripture lesson Paul was pleading with the Galatians to accept the freedom that was theirs, and not be reshackled in the bondage of law.

Verse 1 of Chapter 5 is the text of our message today: “Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty with which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”

This verse is really the conclusion of the last eleven verses of chapter 4, which we read as our scripture lesson. Let’s look at those verses in order to get the full impact of our text.

To grasp allegorical meaning, we need to rehearse the story from Genesis 16, 17, and 21. Sarah and Abraham were without children. They were getting old; Sarah far too old to bear children. She did what any wife would have done in that social/cultural context. She had Abraham go to her slave girl, Hagar, in order for Hagar to bear a child for her. Hagar bore a son named Ishmael. Then the unbelievable happened. God came to Sarah and promised her a child. Though apparently impossible, Sarah, then over ninety years old, bore the promised son and he was named Isaac.

Paul emphasizes the point that Ishmael was born of the ordinary human impulses – of the flesh – while Isaac was a result of God’s intervention.

An allegory is much more than an illustration. It is a spiritual truth embodied in historical events. Paul, uses this bit of significant history to teach a great lesson. He pleads with his “dear children” to “hear the law” and let the law teach them that the true children of Abraham, the true inheritors of the Promise, are not those whose bond of union is the law, but those who have been set spiritually free by the grace of Jesus Christ.

This is the point Paul makes throughout this Galatian letter. Salvation is the Grace-Gift of God. We are not worthy of it. We cannot earn it. We’re justified with God by God’s Grace, and our faith-response to that grace. In the cross, Jesus has purchased our pardon, doing for us what we could never do ourselves.

From this point on in the Galatian letter, Paul enunciates the practical implications of the Gospel. Christian liberty is not a license to keep on sinning. To receive salvation is to begin a process of working out that salvation in our lives. Thus this pivotal verse on which we concentrate this morning:

“Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty with which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.

Dramatic contrasts shine through the allegory. Hagar is a slave, Sarah is free. Two covenants flow from them. Hagar represents the Covenant of Law and corresponds to the present Jerusalem. Sarah represents the Covenant of Promise and corresponds to the Jerusalem on high.

Paul saw the present (earthly) Jerusalem as the center of a religion and of bondage where God was shut up in the Temple. Worship of God had ceased to be spiritual worship and had become scrupulous observance of legal enactments.

So, today, we look at the nature of that freedom which is given us by Christ in order to understand, appropriate, and celebrate what it is all about. Those two perspectives are “exit” and “entrance.”

II

Let’s look first from the perspective of exit.

If you’re taking notes, put down two words that capture what we see and experience when we look at freedom from the exit perspective: release and reconciliation.

The freedom Paul is talking about, the freedom given by Christ, is first the freedom of release. We will never understand the full impact of this meaning of Christian freedom unless we understand the encompassing nature of sin and evil. Paul knew that sin had not alone affected human nature, reducing us to slaves of our passions, but it also affected the whole universe. The whole “creation groaneth in travail”, he said the Romans (8:22). God had to do something of cosmic significance. What He did — the gift of Himself in His Son on the cross - revealed the suffering heart of God. From Adam on, sin has inflicted pain in the heart of God because sin had the whole universe in its grip.

Humans, and all creation, are in bondage to sin until God’s gift of grace, His crucified Son, is received in faith to release us.

It is expressed poignantly by Saul Kane in John Masefield’s incomparable poem, The Everlasting Mercy. The poem tells the story of Saul Kane’s conversion. Reflecting on it, Kane says,

I did not think, I did not strive
the deep peace burnt my me alive;
The bolted door had broke in,
I knew that I had done with sin.
I knew that Christ had given me birth
to brother all the souls on earth.
(John Masefield, Poems by John Masefield McMillan Company, New York, 1962, p. 118)

The freedom Paul is talking about, the freedom given by Christ is a glorious release from the enslaving power of sin, but not only the freedom of release, it is the freedom of reconciliation.

Is there a greater bondage than being shut up in one’s self, being shut off from another, or being estranged from God? Above all else, Paul sees the work of Christ as a work of reconciliation.

Do you remember that powerful word in I Corinthians 5:19? “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.” That’s what we see as the core of freedom when we look from the exit perspective – reconciliation. We were made for friendship and fellowship with God. By disobedience and rebellion we ended up alienated with God. Through Christ’s death, the severed relationship between persons and God is restored.

Then we become ministers of reconciliation. What reconciliation means and how we are ministers of reconciliation is dramatically shared in a story by Don Shelby. He said it happened 25 years ago, but was as new this morning as the waves that washed the beach where he wrote about it. A young mother of two children had been shopping, and a drunken driver lost control of his car. The car jumped the curb and pinned this woman against the wall of a building, crushing her legs so completely that they finally had to be amputated. Her husband was insane with anger, and wanted, with his bare hands, to even that score with the driver who had been jailed. During those months when the driver was in jail, the young woman lay in the hospital, enduring untold suffering. When the driver was finally released from prison, he came to the hospital and asked to see the woman. Outside the door, he met the husband. Had Don Shelby, not been there, the tragedy would have been compounded.

Don was in the room with the woman when the man arrived, and they heard the encounter that was taking place outside, and knew that violence was at hand. The woman insisted that Don go and convince her husband to come in when he did, the hospitalized woman begged her husband to allow the driver to enter.

The husband finally agreed, and the man slowly approached her bed. He hesitated, but she beckoned him to come nearer. As he reached her bed, he broke down with uncontrolled sobbing: “Oh, my God, can you ever forgive me?” he cried. “Please forgive me. I would give anything to change places with you. Oh, can you forgive me?”

The woman extended her hand to touch his arm, and said, “I forgave you long ago, and one day my husband will find it in his heart to forgive you. Please don’t torture your soul. God has forgiven you. He promised us that in Jesus Christ. He will help you as He has helped me. Let’s pray together.”

Describing what happened, Don Shelby said, “A great silence followed, out of which real prayer often arises. God drew near in the choking plea of the driver, and in the loving benediction from the woman who lay without her legs in the bed. A glorious reconciliation took place – a reconciliation of an anguished soul with God – and a soul ravaged with guilt and shame with the person responsible.

Our Lord said, “Forgive and you will be forgiven.” When we forgive in that fashion, the Kingdom breaks open with a peace that passes all human understanding. That’s what reconciliation is all about. That’s the ultimate meaning of the freedom Christ gives: To be reconciled.

Listen friends, if there is anyone from whom you feel estranged, if you are burdened by the awful feeling that you are separated from God or some other person, if you are holding a grudge, or bearing a great burden of guild for some sin or failure, you have not yet claimed the full grave available to you through Christ and his cross.

Release and reconciliation is what we see from the exit perspective of freedom and that release and reconciliation can be claimed by all of you.

III

Again, if you are taking notes, put down two words that capture what we see and experience when we look at freedom from the perspective of: birthright and belonging.

Not only is Christ’s freedom that of release and reconciliation gives us a new vision. That new vision enables us to see our true birthright, and to experience belonging.

Freedom is birthright. Later on in verse 13 of the 5th chapter, Paul said, “For you have been called to liberty”. There is a freedom that belongs to all persons because they’re human beings.

The Declaration of Independence says that freedom is from God and endows us with certain inalienable rights. The United Nations has made a “declaration of human rights” that expresses a basic ideal of freedom for all people. So, there is a liberty that is our birthright, but there is also a level of freedom that is uniquely Christian – the internal freedom of the spirit that enables us to live with dignity and meaning even in the midst of suppression and oppression.

I never will forget an evening in 1979 I spent with three Christian couples, in a hotel room in China. They had not had any Christian literature or Bible for over fifteen years. The Red Guard had searched their homes and had burned their Bibles and books. Corporate worship had been outlawed, churches were turned into factories, warehouses, schools, museums and shops. The depression in the couples was obvious, but it took only minutes to realize that deep within them there flowed a quiet stream of strength. Their spirits were quickened and light and joy came into their eyes as we shared Scripture together, sang, and prayed. Tears came freely to their eyes and to ours as they shared their faith with us. I felt as though I were back in the first century. The hotel room became a catacomb for me, and I knew that these precious people, despite the bondage of their circumstance, had retained the freedom with which Christ had set them free. They knew their birthright.

Belonging is the next word, the next dimension of freedom as entrance.

Alistar MacLean tells of a lady in the West Highlands who lived a hard life, yet a life of perpetual serenity. When she was asked the secret of it, she answered: “My secret is to stay awake and always to keep my heart in port.” That’s the secret of Christian serenity and freedom, to stay aware of the fact that wherever we are, whatever circumstance, we belong to Christ. In our sea of life, we have a home port which is God’s love. And, because we belong to Christ, we belong to each other.

There are many memorable scenes in Alex Haley’s book, Roots. One of the most memorable is the night when Kunta Kinte drove his master to a ball at a big plantation house. Kunta Kinte, you will remember, was the great, great, great, great grandfather of Alex Haley who had been brought here on a slave ship. Kunta Kinte heard the music from inside the house, music from the white folk’s dance. He parked the buggy and settled down to wait out the long night of his master’s revelry. As he sat in the buggy, he heard music coming from the slave’s quarters — the little cabins behind the big house. It was a different music, a music with a different rhythm. Without thinking about what he was doing, he found himself almost running down the path toward those cabins. There he found a man playing African music, his music, which he remembered hearing in Africa as a child —the music he’d almost forgotten. Kunta Kinte found that the man was from his section of Africa. They talked excitedly, in his native language, of home and the things of home.

That night, after returning from the dance, Kunta Kinte went home changed. He lay upon the dirt floor of his little cabin and in sadness that he had almost forgotten, weeping in joy that he had at last remembered. The terrifying, degrading experience of slavery had almost obliterated his memory of who he was. But the music had helped him remember. I pray that there’s enough music left in your soul to help you remember who you are as Christians, and if you’re not a Christian, that the music will be a call to you — a call to freedom, which means release and reconciliation, which means a birthright, a birth right that can never be taken away from you a sense of belonging that will carry you through life with confidence and hope.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Sermons, by Maxie Dunnam