This is a lightly edited transcript of what I actually said when I delivered this message at Spring Creek Bible Church on February 26, 2017. It differs from what I planned to say; for the prepared text, see the manuscript.
It’s an honor to speak tonight about Paul. After Jesus, he’s my favorite human character in the Bible; his life and writings have profoundly shaped me, and it was largely through Paul that I came to love the gospel and the study of theology. Major figures in church history came to faith through his writings—Augustine through Romans 13, Luther through Romans 1—and millions of ordinary people have come to know Jesus through the Romans Road and his teaching. But it’s a daunting task: Paul’s life has been the subject of hundreds of books (I have more than a hundred on his life alone in my Logos library), and his teaching and letters have generated tens of thousands of volumes. After Jesus, Paul is the most prominent person in the New Testament—referenced more than anyone else except Jesus (some 3,259 times), even more than God the Father. He wrote thirteen letters, half the books of the New Testament, and is the second most prolific New Testament author by word count (after Luke). Acts might well be called the Acts of the Apostle Paul—he’s referenced there over 1,100 times—since it largely tells the story of God saving Paul and taking the gospel to the Gentiles through him.
(As I have far too much material, I thought of taking on the character of Paul’s all-night talk in Acts 20, where he preached until midnight, a young man named Eutychus fell asleep and dropped from the window to his death, Paul raised him, and then kept preaching until daylight—but many of you have work in the morning, so I’ll spare you. And in God’s providence, our pastor covered much of my material this morning, better than I could, so I’ll skip some.)
How to Study a Man of God
There’s a way to talk about a person’s life that glorifies the person and robs God of his rightful glory—treating them as the one responsible for their greatness and therefore worthy of praise. The answer isn’t to avoid speaking of great men of God, but to see God behind and through and in the lives of his people: as the one who created them and gave their natural gifts, redeemed them and gave their spiritual gifts, and by grace sustains them and makes them fruitful. With Paul especially, we must approach this faithfully to his own teaching. It would be an ironic tragedy if our amazement went no deeper than his brilliant mind, his heart for God, his zeal, and his sufferings—using his life as merely a good example without lifting our eyes to God. So let me start with two principles from Paul’s own writings on how to turn our thoughts about Paul into praise of God.
First, God works, therefore we work, and he gets the glory. “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10). Paul knew he was gifted and excelled, but he takes none of the credit—and doesn’t even split it fifty-fifty; he gives all the credit to God’s grace working within him. So we “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in [us]” (Philippians 2:12–13)—our working is the overflow of God’s working—and though one plants and another waters, “God gives the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:6–7). Second, God is the giver and we are the receiver, so all boasting is removed. “What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not?” (1 Corinthians 4:7). Try to name one thing you didn’t receive—you can’t. God chose the lowly and despised “so that no human being might boast” (1 Corinthians 1:28–31), “so that…let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” As Romans 11:36 sums it up: “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever.” So as we look at Paul’s extraordinary life, let’s honor it as the gracious gift of the sovereign Lord who worked in and through him, removing every ounce of boasting and ensuring that all the glory belongs to God alone.
I’m tempted to skip Paul’s life and jump to his teaching, but that would be a mistake—we’d miss the deep connection between doctrine and life that Paul embodied. Many of his emphases seem rooted in his experience: his strong stress on God’s absolute sovereignty likely flows from his dramatic conversion, where God irresistibly turned him; and his focus on union with Christ was probably impressed on him on the Damascus road, when Jesus—whom Paul had never met—asked, “Why are you persecuting me?” as Paul was persecuting the church. In that moment Paul understood the deep union between Christ and his people, a theme that permeates his writings. So we’ll understand his theology better by viewing it through the lens of his life.
Who Was Paul?
The Bible tells us a great deal about him. His Hebrew name was Saul, his Roman name Paul (he’s called Paul not long after his conversion). Born and raised in Tarsus, and partly in Jerusalem, he was a Jew—“a Hebrew of Hebrews,” circumcised the eighth day, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee of the strictest sect, trained under Gamaliel, zealous for God, evidently brilliant, speaking at least four languages (Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin), and a Roman citizen by birth. He was a murderer, a persecutor, and a blasphemer—yet set apart from his mother’s womb, converted on the Damascus road, and called to be the apostle to the Gentiles. He was a servant, minister, ambassador, missionary, evangelist, church planter, mentor, friend, and brother; bold yet weak; a preacher, teacher, theologian, and author of a quarter of the New Testament; the “chief of sinners” and a saint; a worker of miracles; and, finally, a martyr.
In the openings of his thirteen letters, Paul calls himself a “servant of Christ Jesus” and, most often, an “apostle”—“one who is sent”—sent to take the gospel to the Gentiles, as well as “a prisoner of Christ Jesus.” But there’s something not in those openings that’s vital to understanding him: Paul was a sinner. “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But…for this reason I received mercy, that in me…Christ Jesus might display his perfect patience” (1 Timothy 1:15–16). He calls himself “the least of the apostles,” not worthy to be called one because he persecuted the church (1 Corinthians 15:9); he says he is “nothing” (2 Corinthians 12:11) and “the very least of all the saints” (Ephesians 3:8). This wasn’t false humility—Paul truly grasped his sinfulness, because he grasped God’s holiness and the gospel of grace, and so saw his sin more clearly than most. Fittingly, nearly forty percent of the New Testament’s mentions of sin occur in Paul—but he speaks even more of grace, the gospel, and the glory of God (about seventy percent of “grace,” over eighty percent of “gospel,” and much of “glory” occur in his writings)—the flip side of a great sinner needing a great Savior. He bookends every letter with grace: all thirteen open with “grace to you and peace” and close with “the grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.” Paul was a theologian of grace.
A few relationships: Scripture mentions a sister and a nephew (Acts 23:16); he was “a son of Pharisees” (23:6); and he tells us he was unmarried (1 Corinthians 7)—though since nearly all Pharisees married young, it’s possible he had been married, and we’re simply left uncertain. He had a host of co-workers—Sopater, Aristarchus, Secundus, Gaius, Timothy, Tychicus, and Trophimus (Acts 20:4)—and appears most often with Timothy, then Silas, Luke, Barnabas, Titus, and others. Interestingly, Peter and Paul are seldom mentioned together—only at the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15; Paul stayed with Peter fifteen days (Galatians 1:18) and once opposed him for not walking in step with the gospel; and in 2 Peter, Peter calls him “our beloved brother Paul,” whose letters contain “some things that are hard to understand.” Paul also had many friends—when you read the closings of his letters, slow down and notice all whom he greets warmly by name; counting those he traveled with, it comes to nearly a hundred people.
His life breaks into roughly eleven stages: birth; training under Gamaliel; his years as a Pharisee and persecutor; his conversion and calling; his early service; his first, second, and third missionary journeys; his arrest, trial, and first imprisonment; his second imprisonment; and his death. His conversion is recounted in Acts 9, retold in Acts 22 and 26, and reflected on in Galatians 1 and 1 Timothy 1. On the road to Damascus, “breathing threats and murder,” a light from heaven flashed and he heard, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?…I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting” (Acts 9). The Lord called him “a chosen instrument” to carry his name before the Gentiles, and “the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (1 Timothy 1:14)—God stepping in sovereignly, pouring out grace that brought faith and love welling up in Paul’s heart, converting him in an instant. He then labored through many missionary journeys, was eventually imprisoned in Rome, released, and arrested again as he wrote his final letter, 2 Timothy: “I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith….The Lord will…bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom.” Tradition says he was beheaded in Rome under Nero, likely in the mid-to-late 60s, at about age sixty—a very full life for his time, given all he suffered.
Lesson 1: What the Gospel Is and Who It’s For
The gospel is rich, multifaceted, and worthy of a lifetime of study. Many first meet it through John 3:16 or the Romans Road—beautiful, simple truths that are indeed the essence of the message—but the doctrinal portions of Paul’s letters spend most of their time unpacking its fullness: God’s foreknowledge, election, predestination, effectual calling, regeneration, conversion, repentance, faith, the indwelling and baptism of the Spirit, justification, adoption, reconciliation, union with Christ, substitutionary atonement, redemption, sanctification, perseverance, and glorification. The more we grasp all God has done for us in Christ, the better we’ll worship him and share the gospel with others. So Paul calls us to embrace the full gospel, not some narrow, simplistic version, and to give ourselves to studying it deeply. And second, the gospel is for Christians. That may sound obvious, but it wasn’t to me—I grew up thinking of the gospel primarily as a message to take to the lost. Yet it’s the central message of all Paul’s letters, written to believers; he doesn’t skip it because his audience is saved and move on to “here’s how to live”—he begins with the gospel and roots everything in it. Those two discoveries countered two errors: shrinking the gospel to a few steps for getting saved, and relegating it to a message only for the lost. The gospel is rich, never something to move beyond, and the truth we as Christians need every single day.
Lesson 2: Holding Truths in Balance
Paul beautifully holds together truths that many see as being in tension, without letting one overshadow the other—and not merely gripping opposing forces, but bringing them together to complement one another. First, theology and practice. Some Christians (and whole traditions) gravitate to the mind, to theology and debate, neglecting the commands to love and serve; others downplay doctrine as divisive and focus only on how we live—at the extremes, liberalism’s social gospel or a fundamentalism fixated on externals. Most of us lean one way. But in Paul we see that sound theology is the necessary basis for right living (or it becomes moralism), and right living is the necessary overflow of a mind and heart captivated by truth—the two brought together by a heart awakened to the beauty of God and his grace. Romans lays out eleven chapters of rich doctrine, then in chapter 12 turns: “therefore…present your bodies.” Ephesians does the same—three chapters of doctrine undergirding three of application. Even where his other letters don’t follow that pattern, Paul always weaves doctrine and application together.
Second, God’s sovereignty and human responsibility. Some so stress sovereignty that they grow passive; others so stress our calling that they deny God could be sovereign. Paul—of all people, having met God’s sovereignty head-on at Damascus—refuses to give one precedence in a way that destroys the other. Take missions: the most common objection to election is that it destroys the need for evangelism—if God has already chosen whom he’ll save, why go and tell? Yet no one defended election more than Paul, and no one was a greater missionary; for him they weren’t at odds but harmonized. Election was no excuse to stay home but a powerful compulsion to go. When the Lord told him in Corinth, “I have many in this city who are my people” (Acts 18:10), it gave Paul confidence to call sinners to repentance—and he stayed a year and a half so that, through his preaching, those God had chosen would come to faith. Predestination implied successful evangelism. He “endured everything for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory” (2 Timothy 2:10). Remember, it’s Paul who wrote, “How are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?…And how are they to preach unless they are sent?” (Romans 10). Election doesn’t undercut missions; it provides the very basis for confident evangelism. (The same balance holds for prayer and God’s sovereignty.)
Third in this balance, justification and sanctification—God’s grace for us and God’s grace in us. Those who emphasize justification can drift toward antinomianism, taking sin and holiness less seriously than Scripture does; those who emphasize sanctification can drift toward legalism, imagining their efforts contribute to their acceptance and casting a shadow over Christ’s all-sufficient work. Paul holds both in beautiful balance. No one defends free grace—justification by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone—more forcefully than Paul (Romans 3–4; Galatians 2); he won’t allow even a finger of our works to touch the ground of our acceptance. Yet he is unflinching about the necessity of holiness and perseverance: he tells Timothy to “take hold of the eternal life to which you were called”; that we are reconciled “if indeed [we] continue in the faith…not shifting from the hope of the gospel” (Colossians 1:23); that we stand in God’s kindness “provided [we] continue…otherwise you too will be cut off” (Romans 11:22); and that “you are being saved…if you hold fast” (1 Corinthians 15:2). Paul holds together the promise of preservation, the requirement of perseverance, and the warnings against falling away—a life that not only understands God’s grace for us but overflows with God’s grace in us.
Lesson 3: Real About Sin Without Being Okay with It
Finally, Paul shows us how to be honest about our sin without being comfortable with it. Some put on a show, pretending they aren’t sinners or covering it up; others under-define sin and imagine they can reach sinless perfection in this life; still others acknowledge their sin openly but don’t feel bad about it. In Paul we see the balance: a full grasp of the depth and pervasiveness of sin, even in regenerate believers who will battle it until glorification, taking sin seriously as something to confess, repent of, and put to death—yet resting in the sufficiency of Christ’s atoning work to cover it and empower real progress against it. Paul helps us take sin seriously, be transparent about our struggles, and still have hope of victory, with final victory awaiting our glorification.
As we close: in Paul’s life and writings we see that God’s grace is responsible for the good we do as believers. Looking at his incredible intellect, his grasp of theology, his dramatic conversion, his gifted teaching, his boldness under suffering, his love for the gospel and the church, and his self-sacrificial service, it would be easy to stop at an exceptional man—but then we’d miss the point. We’d be discouraged that we don’t measure up, and we’d fail to honor Paul’s own teaching, which points us to God’s grace working in and through us. His high view of God’s sovereignty and grace should lead us not to discouragement but to worship—to thank God for the grace he’s poured out in our own lives, even if it doesn’t look exactly like Paul’s. Second, embrace the centrality of the full gospel for Christians; we’ll never plumb its depths, but we’re called never to stop trying. Third, embrace mystery and tension, holding truth in balance without letting one truth overshadow another. And fourth, keep the right perspective on sin—serious about it, never casual, yet confident in the fullness of God’s grace to wash it away and give us victory. God has given us a great gift in the life and teaching of Paul—not only as an example to follow, but even more because they reveal the glory of God’s grace through the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Let’s pray. Father, thank you for the chance to look at the life and teaching of Paul, and for what they teach us about you and your grace—that you are abundant in grace and sovereign in grace. Thank you that, just as you stepped into Paul’s life and rescued him from sin, so you’ve done for us who know you, and can still do for those who don’t. Help us to worship you for your grace, to be overwhelmed by it, and to live in daily dependence on you. Thank you for the gospel and its fullness; help us to study and meditate on it, that our hearts would overflow with gratitude, that we would live it out and share it in joyful gratitude. Equip us this week with some nugget from Paul’s life and teaching, to be strong and to live for you. In Jesus’ name, amen.