Introduction: The Story We Have Been Telling
The entire Bible tells a single, unified story—a story that begins in Genesis and finds its fulfillment in Revelation. It opens with God creating the world and placing two trees in the garden: the tree of life, from which Adam and Eve were free to eat, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which God, in His loving wisdom, commanded them to avoid. Tragically, instead of trusting God’s goodness and choosing life, Adam and Eve reached for what was forbidden. In that moment, they embraced curse rather than blessing by taking from the tree God had graciously withheld for their good.
The pinnacle of creation came when God declared, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, according to Our likeness…” (Gen. 1:26). Unlike any other creature in Eden or on earth, Adam and Eve were uniquely formed to reflect God’s image. God then blessed them and commissioned them: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it…” (Gen. 1:28). Humanity was created to live under God’s rule and to extend His reign throughout the world.
I began this sermon series by reading a quote from Owen Strachan’s book The Warrior Savior:
“It was a tree that damned us. It was a tree that redeemed us. And it will be a tree that heals us in the age to come—time beyond all time.”[1]
Today, we turn our attention to the tree that ultimately redeemed us—the tree upon which Another was cursed in our place. As Strachan observes, “Adam, the first man, was a priest and a king unto God. He lived and ruled under the divine regency of his Maker.”[2] Yet Adam failed. Through his disobedience, sin entered the world, and with it came death. As Paul explains, “Through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind… death reigned from Adam until Moses… Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come” (Rom. 5:12–14).
Humanity rebelled against God, the curse entered creation, and death became an ever-present reality. But the story does not end there. God promised that the curse would not have the final word. From the very beginning, Scripture reveals not a collection of disconnected stories, but one unfolding story—a story of how God moves toward a cursed people and a broken creation with redemption.
This morning, we come to a passage where the apostle Paul explains—explicitly and unmistakably—what that story has always been about. Galatians 3:10–14 is not a detour from the story we have been tracing; it is Paul putting words to it. Here, the curse is named, the problem is clarified, and the solution is revealed with stunning clarity.
Paul tells us plainly, “All who rely on works of the law are under a curse” (3:10; BSB). That statement may sound severe. But it is the biblical diagnosis of the human condition. The origin of that curse is ancient. It reaches back to Eden, where God created humanity for life, fellowship, obedience, and worship. When Adam and Eve disobeyed God, sin entered the world, the curse followed, and spiritual and physical death became the inevitable outcome.
The curse did not merely affect humanity inwardly; it affected creation itself. The ground was cursed. Thorns and thistles appeared. Pain, toil, suffering, and death became woven into the fabric of life. From that moment forward, every human has been born under the weight of that curse—inclined toward sin, separated from God, and unable to restore what was lost.
Paul’s point in Galatians is not that the law created the curse, but that the law exposes it. God’s commandments reveal the depth of our problem. They show us that no amount of effort, obedience, or religious devotion can undo what was broken in the garden. As Scripture says, “Cursed is everyone who does not abide by all the things written in the book of the Law, to do them” (Gal. 3:10). And none of us has.
Our Need Is a Righteousness We Cannot Produce
To be under the curse is not to suffer from bad luck, karma, or chance; it is to stand under God’s righteous judgment. Our greatest problem is not circumstance or ignorance—it is that God is holy, and we are not. The law demands perfect righteousness—and we are incapable of producing it. That is why Paul insists, “No one is justified before God by works of the law. The righteous live by faith” (Gal. 3:11).
Think about the people we have looked at throughout this series. Reflect on the gravity of their sins. Adam let Eve eat the forbidden fruit, even though he had been told that doing so would bring death and curse. But as the priest and king appointed by God in Eden, he didn’t protest or intervene—he stood by, silent and passive—and then joined her. For what? Because both of them bought into the lie of the dragon that they could be just like God. In that moment, they tore apart the sacred boundary between creature and Creator, unleashing the curse that would plague every generation to come.
Consider the violence of Cain and his descendants—how they perverted the sacred institution of marriage and showed no regard for the sanctity of life. Reflect on Noah and his family: even after the flood, even after God’s rainbow appeared in the sky, sin still found its way into their lives. After Noah became drunk, his son Ham committed such a shameful act related to his father’s nakedness that Scripture does not even specify what it was. Think also about the Tower of Babel, where people sought to build an empire not for God’s glory, but for their own. All these accounts serve as a mirror, revealing just how broken and corrupted by sin humanity truly is.
Consider Abraham, weighed down by his own failures as a husband and father. Picture Isaac—his love for Esau burning brighter than his love for Jacob—splintering their family and sowing seeds of rivalry that tore through generations. Consider Jacob’s twelve sons, born to two wives. Their family was marked by jealousy, betrayal, and constant conflict, with discord replacing the harmony that should have filled their home. See Judah—drawn toward idols, taking a Canaanite wife, wandering far from the ways of God, his heart tangled in spiritual darkness.
And then Tamar, Judah’s daughter-in-law—driven to the brink by desperation and grief. Her life battered by the wickedness of Judah’s sons, she cloaked herself in the garments of a prostitute, her face veiled, her dignity hanging by a thread. She knew Judah’s moral weakness. When he passed by, she sold herself for silver—pain disguised as survival—his own lust blinding him to her true identity. This is not a sanitized tale; it is the raw, exposed reality of sin’s grip—brokenness that bleeds through families, hearts shattered and lives twisted by deceit and desire.
Shall I continue? I must—because it’s essential for you to grasp the full gravity of the word “cursed.”
Look at David: the mighty king, the poet, the man after God’s own heart—yet swept away by desire, stealing Bathsheba and orchestrating the death of her husband to cover his shame. Blood stained his hands, guilt gnawed his soul, and tragedy ravaged his house. Yet out of this relationship—marked by betrayal and sorrow—God, in His mercy, brought forth a way for hope to emerge. Their surviving son, Solomon, would rise from the ashes of their brokenness. Through Solomon’s line would come Joseph, the husband of Mary and stepfather of Jesus; and from David’s son Nathan would descend Mary herself, the mother who would cradle the Savior. Out of scandal and sorrow, God wove together the lineage through which the true and better David would come—a King crowned not by conquest, but by grace.
What connects all of these individuals is twofold—listen carefully. First, none could escape the curse of sin, a problem rooted in the heart. Second, nearly all of them stand in the lineage of Jesus. The Law given to Moses revealed to them—and to us—that their struggle was one only God could solve: “For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, abound to the many” (Rom. 5:15; BSB). As Paul explains, “Before faith came, we were held captive under the law… So then, the law was our guardian until Christ came, in order that we might be justified by faith” (Gal. 3:23–24).
This is where the story presses us toward hope. If the curse cannot be undone by our obedience, then liberation must come from outside of us. What we need is redemption; what we need is rescue. And that rescue must address the curse at its root.
Our Only Hope Is That Christ Became Our Curse
What is our hope? Our hope is that there is One who is able to save us from our sins by providing a righteousness that we could never produce on our own. Oh, my dear friends, this is exactly what we learn from Galatians 3:13–14. God has provided the righteousness we need—not through our obedience, but through Jesus Christ. Look at verse 13—you have to see this: “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.’”
How is it that a person is cursed on a tree? The answer is found in Deuteronomy 21:22–23. Under the Law of Moses, if a man committed a crime punishable by death and was executed, his body could be displayed on a tree or wooden post. This was not merely a method of disposal; it was a public declaration. To be hung on a tree was to be marked as one who stood under God’s judgment. Scripture says plainly, “Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse” (Deut. 22:23; BSB). In other words, to be hung on a tree was to be identified as extraordinarily cursed.
Now, look directly at the cross—see it for what it is. The very wood upon which Jesus hung was shaped by Roman hands, but in God's eyes, it was a tree. And according to the Scriptures Paul cites, anyone nailed to a tree is branded as cursed, set apart for divine judgment. But here is the shocking, undeniable truth—Jesus was wholly innocent. He was blameless, completely undeserving of any punishment or condemnation. And yet He was treated as the cursed one. Jesus did not become sinful—He became the embodiment of the curse itself, willingly standing in the place of those doomed by sin. The full weight of God's wrath, the judgment that should have crushed us, was hurled upon the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!
And because Christ took the curse upon Himself, the day He hung on the cross became the moment when God gave undeniable, visible signs that Jesus alone was truly qualified to bear our sin. By fully enduring the wrath of God the Father, Christ the Son broke the power of the curse over sinful humanity. As He hung on the cross, He wore a crown of thorns; when He took His final breath and declared, “It is finished,” the ground shook; and at that very moment, the curtain in the temple was torn in two.
The Crown of Thorns
Why does Scripture bother to tell us about the crown of thorns? Because thorns were the visible sign of the curse pronounced in Eden: “Cursed is the ground because of you… thorns and thistles it shall bring forth” (Gen. 3:17–18). At the cross, Jesus—the Redeemer of a cursed people and a cursed creation—was nailed to a tree wearing a crown made from the very symbol of that curse. The One who knew no sin bore upon His head what sin had produced. The curse that began in Eden was placed upon Christ.
The Quaking Ground
When Jesus cried out, “It is finished,” and breathed His last, Matthew tells us that “the earth shook, and the rocks were split” (Matt. 27:51). Why did the ground quake? Because the ground once cursed in Eden was being redeemed. Creation itself responded as its Redeemer purchased it with His blood. The curse that brought death into the world no longer held uncontested power.
The Torn Curtain
When Adam and Eve sinned, they were driven from the presence of God. That separation stood visibly in the curtain of the temple, a reminder that sinful people could not freely dwell with a holy God. But when Jesus died, the curtain was torn in two from top to bottom. The meaning is unmistakable: because Jesus bore the curse, the barrier has been removed. Through His death, we are no longer exiles—we are invited back into the presence of the God we were created to know.
Paul tells us why Christ bore the curse: “So that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles.” The blessing promised in Genesis—that through Abraham’s seed all nations would be blessed—comes only through the curse-bearing work of Christ. What began in a garden, moved through a family, a nation, and a kingdom, now reaches the nations through the cross.
Conclusion
The curse is real, but it is no longer final. Forgiveness is secured. Righteousness is given. The Spirit is poured out. New life has begun—and yet, the story is not finished. The cross does not merely explain the past; it guarantees the future. Because Jesus bore the curse, the curse itself is living on borrowed time. Because Jesus rose from the dead, death has been defeated. And because God has always kept His promises, Scripture assures us that what Christ accomplished at the cross will one day be completed in full.
The Bible ends where it began—not with exile, but with restoration; not with thorns, but with a tree of life standing once again; not with humanity driven from God’s presence, but with God dwelling forever among His redeemed people. And the promise is clear: “No longer will there be any curse.”
And he showed me a river of the water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne of God and of the Lamb, in the middle of its street. On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. There will no longer be any curse; and the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and His bond-servants will serve Him; they will see His face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illuminate them; and they will reign forever and ever.
As we turn next to the book of Revelation, we are not beginning a new story. We are finally ready to see how the story we have been tracing from the beginning comes to its appointed end.
[1] Owen Strachan, The Warrior Savior (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing; 2024), 1.
