The Heir: Stop Trying to Earn What’s Already Yours

Imagine waking up one morning to discover that your name is written in a will. A life-changing inheritance is already yours. You didn’t compete for it. You didn’t fill out an application. Someone simply chose to include you.

Now imagine walking into a courtroom and demanding to prove you deserve it. You start listing your qualifications, your track record, your résumé of good behavior. Everyone in the room looks at you like you’ve lost your mind, because the inheritance was never based on your performance. It was based on a promise.

That’s essentially what was happening in the churches of Galatia, and it’s the situation Paul addresses with striking clarity in Galatians 3:15–29. Believers who had already received forgiveness, the Holy Spirit, and the gift of salvation were now being told they needed to perform works of the law to secure what God had already freely given them. Paul’s response is as direct as it gets: stop trying to earn what you can only receive.

A Promise That Predates the Law

Paul opens this section by appealing to something everyone can understand. He says, “Brethren, I speak in terms of human relations.” Forget the theological complexity for a moment. Think about how contracts work. When two parties ratify an agreement, a third party can’t come along afterward and rewrite the terms.

That’s the foundation of Paul’s argument. God made a promise to Abraham and to his seed. That covenant was ratified. And 430 years later, when the law arrived through Moses, it didn’t amend, invalidate, or overwrite what God had already established. The law had a different purpose entirely. The promise remained intact.

To put that timeline in perspective, 430 years is nearly twice the entire history of the United States. That’s how long the promise stood before the law ever entered the picture. And Paul’s point is unmistakable: if Abraham could believe God and have righteousness credited to his account before the law existed, then the law was never the means of securing salvation.

One Seed, One Heir

Paul makes a grammatical argument here that some scholars have debated for centuries. God’s promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed, singular, not seeds, plural. Paul identifies that singular seed as Christ.

As the Old Testament unfolds, we watch God narrow the line of promise with precision. Not Ishmael but Isaac. Not Esau but Jacob. Not Levi but Judah. Not just any descendant of David, but one specific King. Every step of the way, God was bottlenecking the promise down to a single person.

But here’s the beauty of it: that narrowing was never meant to exclude. It was meant to overflow. The promise rested on one so that it could be shared with many. Christ is the heir, and everyone who is joined to him shares in the inheritance.

The Law’s True Purpose

So if the promise was already in place, why give the law at all? Paul asks the question directly in verse 19: “Why the law then?”

His answer is straightforward. The law was added because of transgressions. It was given to reveal sin, to show humanity the weight of its rebellion against God. Think of the daily rhythm of life under the law: the first thing you’d see each morning was smoke ascending from the altar, a sacrifice for sin. The last thing you’d see before sleep was that same smoke rising. Every moment was saturated with the reminder that sin requires death.

The law wasn’t bad. It was essential. But it was also temporary. Paul compares it to a pedagogue, a custodian in the Greco-Roman world who had authority over a child until they reached adulthood. The custodian’s job wasn’t permanent. It had an expiration date. And that date arrived when the promised seed finally came.

Training Wheels and the Grown-Up Faith

Paul’s logic leads to an illustration that cuts right to the heart of the issue. Going back to the law after Christ has come is like putting training wheels back on a bicycle you’ve already learned to ride. Training wheels serve a genuine purpose for a season. But once you’ve crossed that threshold, returning to them isn’t humility. It’s regression.

Every time we live as though our performance could earn salvation, we’re acting as if what Jesus did was a waste of time. Paul had already made this point to Peter when Peter started pulling away from Gentile believers in Antioch. If righteousness could come through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

That’s a statement that should stop us in our tracks.

An Inheritance Without Class Distinctions

Paul then makes one of the most radical declarations in all of his letters: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

This verse is frequently misused in modern discussions, pulled out of context to erase distinctions that Paul himself upholds elsewhere. He’s not saying that identity and roles no longer exist. He’s saying something far more explosive for his original audience: the inheritance is identical for every child of God.

A Gentile slave girl receives the same inheritance as a Jewish free man. The thief on the cross, who spent most of his final hours mocking Jesus before turning in faith, receives the same inheritance as the apostle Paul, who spent decades suffering for the gospel. That’s either deeply offensive or deeply glorious, and your reaction reveals whether you believe salvation is based on performance or promise.

Heirs Who Live Like It

But Paul doesn’t leave us with a comfortable ending. Being an heir carries weight. The inheritance wasn’t given to finance an old way of living. A good heir doesn’t squander what’s been entrusted to them.

Paul’s language throughout this passage is rich with identity. You’ve been baptized into Christ. You’ve been clothed with Christ. You’ve been made a son or daughter of God. That’s not just theological language. That’s a new identity that demands a new way of life.

We’re not auditioning for the family of God. If you’re in Christ, you’re already in. But being in the family means bearing the family name well. It means stepping into the fullness of what you’ve been given rather than coasting on grace while living like the world around you.

How Does This Challenge You?

Are you still trying to earn what God has freely given?

Whether it’s religious checklists, spiritual accomplishments, or a vague sense that you need to “do more” to be accepted by God, Paul’s message is clear: rest in the promise.

Does the equality of the inheritance offend you?

If the idea that a deathbed convert receives the same inheritance as a lifelong believer bothers you, it may be worth examining whether you’ve subtly shifted from trusting the promise to trusting your own performance.

Are you living like an heir, or squandering the inheritance?

Grace is free, but it’s not cheap. God has given you a new identity in Christ. Are you stepping into it, or are you still living as though nothing has changed?

The gospel is an inheritance, not a paycheck. You don’t clock in and earn it. You receive it because someone wrote your name in the will. What the law could never secure, Christ has already inherited, and he shares it with every single person who believes. Rest in that today. And then rise up and live like the heir you are.

Listen to the full sermon here: The Heir — Galatians 3:15–29

Preached March 15, 2026 at Howell Bible Church