As a writer, I always try to read the Bible through my
writer’s lens. I look for the tension, the characters, the voice, the
development, and the structure. As an English professor, I tell my students
that when they read, they must also listen—to what is said, what is not said,
and how it is said. The same applies to Scripture.
Galatians? Whew. They were wilding out.
This book was short, sharp, and in some places, a little
shady—in the best way. Paul did not come to play. He was frustrated, fired up,
and completely focused on one thing: getting these believers back in line. And
as a writer, that tension made it an excellent read.
Let us talk structure. The book of Galatians does not have a
slow build. There is no warm-up or greeting that softens the message. Paul
starts swinging by verse six. “I am amazed…” he says. In other words, “Y’all
cannot be serious.” The tone is firm. There is urgency. He is clearly upset—but
not petty. He is protective. He is passionate. He is correcting. That is what
gives this book its emotional edge.
From a storytelling standpoint, Galatians has a different
kind of arc. There is no traveling. No miracles. No dramatic escapes. It is all
correction, all internal, all theological. And yet? It is just as intense. You
feel the emotion in every word. You can almost hear Paul’s sighs between the
sentences. This is a man defending freedom with fire in his pen.
There is a lot of rhetorical strategy going on here. Paul
uses sarcasm. He uses questions. He appeals to their logic and their memory. He
brings receipts—from his own life and from Scripture. The way he weaves his
personal testimony into his argument is brilliant. He is not just teaching
doctrine—he is telling his story as evidence. As a writer, that was a
masterclass in persuasion.
The conflict in this book is thick. Paul is not just
addressing people who are wrong—he is confronting a mindset that threatens the
very core of Christian freedom. The tension is between Law and Grace. Between
faith and performance. Between old systems and new covenant living. And it is
not just a theological debate—it is personal. These were people Paul had poured
into. And now, they are acting like they do not even know the basics of the
gospel.
The characters are not deeply fleshed out in this book, but
their presence is still felt. We get Peter (again), and once again, Paul calls
him out. This time, it is over hypocrisy—again. The moment is brief, but
powerful. Paul does not care who you are. If you mess with grace, he is going
to say something. This added another layer to Paul’s voice: he was bold, but
consistent.
There is not much dialogue in this book—it is mostly
monologue. But it never drags. Paul’s writing is dense, but not boring. He
packs truth into every line. As a reader, you have to pause and re-read. As a
writer, you appreciate the structure. Every line builds on the last. He uses
contrast. He uses repetition. He uses tone. This is not a rant—it is rhetoric.
And it is solid.
The theme is clear: Freedom through faith in Christ
alone. That is the drum Paul beats from beginning to end. He is not here to
debate. He is not here to entertain. He is here to defend the truth of the
gospel, and he does it with fire.
From a writer’s point of view, Galatians is a letter of
rebuke that reads like a sermon. It is an epistle with energy. It is short, but
fierce. It is tight, but thorough. It is honest, theological, emotional, and
literary. It teaches, but it also pulls you in.
If Acts was a dramatic narrative, Galatians is a fiery
op-ed. And I loved it.
I did not have a favorite character this time—because Paul
stole the show. His voice carried the entire book. But I did have a favorite
line: “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?” That line was cinematic.
You can almost see him looking at them with that side-eye of spiritual
disappointment.
The ending was strong. It was not wrapped in a neat bow, but
it left you with a charge. Paul basically said, “Walk in the Spirit. Stay free.
And do not let these folks put you in bondage again.”
This book had bite. But it also had beauty. It reminded me
that sometimes love does not always sound sweet. Sometimes it sounds stern.
Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is tell the truth—plain, bold, and
without apology.
Reading Galatians as a writer helped me see how powerful a
well-structured letter can be. It was a reminder that clarity, conviction, and
courage are sometimes all you need to write something that still speaks
centuries later.