The Gospel That Comes From God, Not Man

The Gospel That Comes From God, Not Man
In our world of self-help gurus, motivational speakers, and endless strategies for self-improvement, there's something radically different about the Christian gospel. It's not a message that originated in the mind of humanity. It's not a philosophy we crafted to make ourselves feel better. The gospel is something entirely different—it comes from God himself.
This distinction matters more than we might initially realize.
The Origin of Truth
When we examine the letter to the Galatians, we encounter the apostle Paul defending something crucial: the divine origin of the gospel message. He wasn't sharing his personal opinions or religious theories. He was proclaiming a revelation that came directly from Jesus Christ.
Consider how unusual this is. Every human religion and philosophical system centers on what we must do. They're filled with lists, requirements, and steps to achieve enlightenment, righteousness, or divine favor. The common thread? Human effort. Human achievement. Human works.
But the Christian gospel turns this completely upside down.
The gospel declares that God does for us what we could never do for ourselves. It announces that Jesus Christ died in our place, paying the penalty we deserved. He lived the perfect life we've never lived, and offers us His righteousness as a gift. When we believe this—truly believe it, not just acknowledge it intellectually—we are justified before God.
This is not a message humanity would ever invent. It offends our pride. It strips away our self-sufficiency. It tells us that our fig leaves—those things we use to cover our shame and inadequacy—are utterly worthless.
A Dramatic Encounter
The story of Paul's conversion on the Damascus Road illustrates this powerfully. Here was a man zealously devoted to his religious tradition, convinced he was serving God by persecuting Christians. He was advancing in his religion beyond many of his peers, extremely committed to the traditions he'd inherited.
Then Jesus interrupted his life.
A light from heaven. A voice asking, "Why are you persecuting me?" Paul, struck blind, led by the hand into Damascus, where he spent three days without sight, neither eating nor drinking.
This wasn't a gentle invitation. It was a divine confrontation. Jesus wasn't asking Paul for permission or seeking his approval. He was commanding, directing, transforming.
And notice something profound: when Jesus addressed Paul, He identified so closely with His church that He said, "Why are you persecuting me?" The suffering of Christians was personal to Christ. It's as if it were happening to Him directly.
This should comfort every believer who faces opposition, misrepresentation, or persecution for their faith. Jesus is not distant or indifferent. He is near in our suffering. He identifies with us that closely.
Filled With the Spirit for a Purpose
After Paul's conversion, something significant happened: he was filled with the Holy Spirit. This wasn't merely about the Spirit's presence in his life—it was about being filled for a specific purpose: to proclaim the Word of God.
Throughout the book of Acts, this phrase "filled with the Spirit" consistently precedes someone speaking God's Word. It's a technical phrase signaling that divine proclamation is about to occur.
Paul, once the persecutor, became the proclaimer. The man who tried to destroy the faith now preached it. And the churches that once feared him began to glorify God because of him.
This is the transformative power of the gospel. It doesn't just modify behavior or improve character—it completely redirects lives. It takes enemies of God and makes them ambassadors of His grace.
Wrestling With Residual Self-Righteousness
Here's where things get uncomfortable for many of us: even after we've embraced the gospel intellectually, we can still harbor works-based, self-righteous tendencies.
We know the gospel. We can articulate it. We might even defend it theologically. But when we actually sin, where do we run? Do we immediately flee to Jesus and the cross, trusting in His finished work? Or do we reach for our drawer of fig leaves, trying to cover our own shame through better behavior, religious activity, or self-improvement projects?
This is subtle but spiritually deadly. We put a "Jesus sticker" on our self-salvation efforts and deceive ourselves into thinking we're trusting the gospel when we're actually trusting ourselves.
The gospel requires us to burn those fig leaves. All of them. We cannot cover our own shame. Only Christ can do that.
Who Are You Living to Please?
This brings us to a critical question: In your daily decisions, your conversations, your choices—who are you trying to please? God or people?
In a culture where we have unprecedented comfort and freedom, we often worry more about what's awkward than about what's eternal. We're concerned about social acceptance while people around us are dying in their sins.
The fear of man is a powerful snare. It keeps us silent when we should speak. It makes us compromise when we should stand firm. It causes us to blend in when we're called to be distinct.
Paul wasn't concerned with pleasing people. He knew that if he were trying to please people, he wouldn't be a servant of Christ. The two are often mutually exclusive.
This doesn't mean we're intentionally offensive or unnecessarily provocative. It means that when the gospel and popular opinion conflict, we choose the gospel—every single time.
The Reward of Faithfulness
If you've ever had your integrity questioned because you're a Christian, if you've faced accusations or injustice because of your faith, you're in good company. The apostle Paul experienced the same thing. So did Jesus. So have countless believers throughout history.
Great is your reward in heaven.
This isn't empty religious platitude. It's eternal reality. God sees. God knows. He is not indifferent to what His children endure for His name's sake.
The call is to remain faithful. To keep believing the gospel. To keep proclaiming it. To keep living in light of it, regardless of the cost.
Because this gospel—the one that comes from God and not from man—is the only message that can save. It's the only power that can transform. It's the only hope for a world drowning in self-righteousness and works-based religion.
May we cling to it, proclaim it, and live in the freedom it provides.