Is The Church Still Good News For Everyone?

Have you ever been so frustrated with someone you just had to say, “What in the world are you doing?” That’s the vibe Paul gives off in the second chapter of Galatians. He’s not just disappointed—he’s outright furious. His frustration wasn’t over a minor misunderstanding. It was about something core to the faith. Something he believed was being deeply compromised.

Paul, the passionate apostle who traveled relentlessly to spread the message of Jesus, finds himself confronting none other than Peter— the apostle Peter. The one who walked on water. The one who preached at Pentecost. Paul confronts him to his face, publicly. Why? Because Peter, in a moment of fear and self-protection, compromised the Good News—what we often call the gospel.

And Paul wasn’t having it.

In those early days of the church, Christianity was spreading beyond the Jewish community. That in itself was incredible. Jesus was Jewish. His disciples were Jewish. The story of redemption had flowed through Jewish history and tradition. But now, something unprecedented was happening: non-Jewish people—referred to in Scripture as the nations or Gentiles—were embracing the message of Jesus. This was more than an expansion. It was a transformation.

But as these Gentile believers joined the movement, questions emerged. Important ones. Did they need to adopt Jewish customs in order to follow Jesus? Should they observe the festivals, the traditions, even circumcision? It was a genuine theological puzzle for many.

Eventually, key leaders like Peter and Paul came to a shared conclusion: No. People didn’t need to become Jewish to follow Jesus. Faith in Him was enough. That declaration was not only revolutionary but also liberating.

And it worked—until it didn’t.

In the city of Antioch, a diverse and vibrant church had formed. Jews and Gentiles worshiped and shared meals together. And in a culture shaped by hierarchy—where Romans ate with Romans, men with men, the rich with the rich—this was radical. The act of sharing a meal wasn’t just about food. It was a statement: We are equal here.

But then some religious traditionalists from Jerusalem arrived. They were skeptical about all this inclusivity. And Peter, perhaps out of fear or insecurity, pulled back. He stopped eating with Gentile believers. Maybe he thought it wasn’t worth the controversy. Maybe he wanted to avoid criticism.

Paul saw it and exploded. In Galatians, Paul recounts it boldly: “I opposed him to his face.” Paul was done with the subtle hints and behind-the-scenes conversations. He called Peter out publicly because the integrity of the gospel was at stake. He wasn’t just angry at Peter—he was heartbroken over the damage being done.

This wasn’t just about food. This was about access, acceptance, and what it meant to belong to the family of God.

Paul’s language in Galatians is strong. He accuses the church of turning away from the gospel to “another gospel, which is no gospel at all.”

Here’s where many of us miss something essential. We’ve made “gospel” into a religious term, a theological concept, or a type of music. But Paul wasn’t talking in abstractions. The Greek word euangelion literally means good news.

If your message excludes people who are different, that’s not good news. If your community demands that people conform before they’re loved, that’s not good news. If your religion makes people feel like they’re not enough until they jump through your hoops, that is not good news. That’s bad news. And Paul wasn’t about to let the early church fall into that trap.

We tend to like systems. We like to know who’s in and who’s out. Who’s earned it and who hasn’t. Grace messes with that. Real grace is uncomfortable because it gives the same welcome to the insider and the outsider, the rule-follower and the rebel, the long-timer and the newcomer.

Paul understood that grace was the heart of the gospel. And he also knew that grace doesn’t thrive in fenced-in communities with rigid borders. Grace belongs in centered communities—places where people are drawn toward Jesus, not pressured to perform.

The church Paul envisioned was one with no gates or velvet ropes. It was a place with Jesus at the center and people moving toward Him, together. And when we turn grace into a prize for the worthy instead of a gift for all, we’ve created a new gospel. One that isn’t gospel at all.

This all sounds beautiful in theory. But if we're honest, it makes us nervous. What if including everyone feels like we’re endorsing everything? What if people take advantage of grace? What if some people aren’t “ready” to be welcomed?

But grace isn’t about readiness. It’s about recognition. Recognition that none of us were ready. None of us cleaned ourselves up first. God met us in our mess.

Yes, transformation matters. But transformation doesn’t happen by exclusion. It happens when people experience love, truth, and belonging over time. The church isn’t a gated neighborhood. It’s a well in the middle of a field, and everyone’s invited to drink.

Consider this: Fred Rogers, the soft-spoken children's television host, was once accused by a pundit of being “evil.” Why? Because he told children they were valuable and loved before they accomplished anything.

Think about that. In a society that measures worth by productivity, Mr. Rogers became controversial for affirming intrinsic value. And that moment tells us something chilling: we’re deeply uncomfortable with unconditional love.

Paul would agree. That’s the same discomfort he confronted in Peter.

Unconditional love—grace—is radical. It's disruptive. But it’s also the only thing that truly heals. And it’s the defining feature of the gospel.

Being a church for anyone isn’t a branding move. It’s a declaration- everyone is welcome at the start, no matter where they are on the journey. We’re not perfect, but we’re moving toward Jesus together.

We’re not trying to blur boundaries or avoid truth. We’re choosing to center everything around Jesus and trust that if we keep moving toward Him, transformation will follow.

And yes, we’ll stumble. We’ll get it wrong. Like Peter, we’ll need to be called out sometimes. But we’ll keep moving. We’ll keep realigning our lives with the good news.

Because this gospel? It’s still good news. For everyone.