The El Camino Gospel
"…if you accept circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you.” – Galatians 5:2
Think of things that were perfect in their original form, only to be ruined by additions. The El Camino, a strange hybrid of car and truck, appeals to neither car nor truck enthusiasts. The futon, a thinner, less comfortable couch that doubles as a terrible bed, seems designed to discourage houseguests. And then there's the chocolate chip cookie, a culinary masterpiece tragically flawed by the addition of walnuts. Even the humble gas station "burger dog," perpetually rotating on its warming treadmill, seems like an unnecessary fusion – why combine a burger and a hotdog when both are perfectly enjoyable on their own?
This comedic rant illustrates a crucial point: sometimes, combining two things doesn't create something better; it ruins both. "Fusion" might work in the realm of Asian cuisine, but often, simplicity is best.
The church in Galatia faced a similar "fusion theology," and the Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, doesn't mince words in addressing this dangerous trend.
The Galatian church, founded by Paul himself, had initially embraced the pure gospel: salvation comes by grace through faith in Christ alone. This message, divinely revealed to Paul, was clear and unambiguous. Yet, within a short time, the Galatians began to modify it, adding "faith + circumcision," insisting that Gentile converts must be circumcised to be true followers of Christ. This seemingly minor addition was, in fact, a fundamental rejection of Christ's sufficiency and a denial of the gospel Paul preached.
This is why Paul's language is so strong: "If you accept circumcision, Christ will be of no advantage to you" (Galatians 5:2). Adding anything to the gospel nullifies the gospel itself. As Paul later states, "A little leaven leavens the whole lump" (Galatians 5:9). The gospel is grace alone, through faith alone – Sola Gratia, Sola Fide – as the Reformers later articulated.
While the specific issue of circumcision might seem distant to us today, the underlying problem remains relevant. We must ask ourselves: what are the modern-day "circumcisions" that we add to the gospel?
These additions can take many forms. They might be theological fusions (Jesus + a particular theological system, Jesus + a specific mode of baptism, Jesus + a certain prayer language), moral fusions (Jesus + a specific set of ethical standards, Jesus + humility, Jesus + never getting angry), or even pop-culture fusions (Jesus + therapy, Jesus + leadership strategies, Jesus + self-help). They could also be life-experience fusions (Jesus + full-time ministry, Jesus + suffering, Jesus + financial success).
Paul's message is clear: these additions are all distractions from the core truth of the gospel. Even if we don't consciously believe these additions are necessary for salvation, they can still define a church community. When belonging hinges on possessing "this thing" or achieving "that status," we've created a fusion gospel. When the community seems to value certain experiences, success, or behaviors and champion them next to the Gospel, we are in the realm of gospel fusion.
This is why the Christian life is a constant struggle against our innate desire to add to the equation – the temptation to think "Jesus + (something)” is necessary or will make us better, or holier, or more acceptable. But faith alone in Christ alone reminds us to continually reject this urge and clinging to the simplicity and sufficiency of the gospel.
The beauty of the gospel is that our salvation doesn't depend on our perfect doctrine or flawless living. It rests on Jesus and His unwavering grip on us. He has promised never to let go. Therefore, we can lift our weary heads, repent of our fusion theology, and receive anew what has always been ours: Jesus Christ alone. Risen, crowned, and seated at the right hand of the Father, He is sufficient in and of Himself. Nothing more is needed. Hallelujah. Amen.
