In the first-century Mediterranean, language drew a sharp line through the empire. Those who spoke Greek stood on one side; those who did not were commonly labeled barbarians. What began as a nickname that mimicked how foreign speech sounded hardened into a cultural judgment that painted whole peoples as crude or lesser. Into that stratified world came the gospel of Jesus Christ—a message that broke down dividing walls and announced one Lord over all, rich to all who call on His name (Romans 10:12–13). In Christ, labels that once kept people at arm’s length lost their power, for “here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free,” because “Christ is all, and is in all” (Colossians 3:11).
The New Testament does not treat barbarians as curiosities at the edge of the map but as people included within the scope of the Great Commission. Paul counted himself a debtor “both to Greeks and non-Greeks, both to the wise and the foolish,” and so was eager to preach Christ where He had not yet been named (Romans 1:14–15; Romans 15:20). Their presence in Scripture exposes the poverty of cultural pride and magnifies the grace of God, who “made from one man all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth,” appointing their seasons and boundaries so that they might seek Him and find Him (Acts 17:26–27).
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Historical and Cultural Background
The word barbarian comes from the Greek word barbaros, an imitation of how foreign speech sounded to Greek ears. Over time the term shifted from a neutral descriptor to a verdict on worth. In the Greek way of thinking, polished language matched a polished way of life; to be outside that world was to be outside civilization. Rome inherited the label even as it absorbed and ruled many of the peoples it once despised. The empire bound diverse nations by roads, law, and force, yet its cultural ideals still privileged Greek and Latin speech, Roman dress, and Roman customs. The gospel would run along those very roads while refusing those prejudices, for the power of God for salvation does not bow to such hierarchies (Romans 1:16).
To the west, Celtic societies produced intricate art and maintained warrior cultures that classical writers rarely tried to understand on their own terms. To the north, Germanic tribes pressed the frontier with a mix of trading, raiding, and migration. To the southeast, Scythians ranged the steppe—famed for horsemanship and feared for ferocity—so that Paul’s mention of “Scythian” alongside “barbarian” signals the outer edge of cultural distance in his day (Colossians 3:11). Across North Africa, Berber communities preserved ancient traditions that predated Rome. The empire might call them all barbarians, but God had appointed their times and places so that in every land the testimony of creation might stir a longing for the Creator, for “the heavens declare the glory of God” and “day after day they pour forth speech” (Psalm 19:1–2).
Language functioned like a passport. Greek unified east and west in commerce and ideas; Latin governed administration and law. Those who lacked either tongue often bore the mark of outsider when they entered imperial cities. Yet at Pentecost the Spirit staged a public contradiction: men from “every nation under heaven” heard the wonders of God in their native languages (Acts 2:5–11). That moment displayed that access to God does not require adoption of a particular culture, for the promise is “for all whom the Lord our God will call,” both near and far (Acts 2:39).
The Roman peace provided practical advantages to mission. Ships shuttled between ports; milestones marked roads; magistrates enforced a recognizably common law. Paul drew on his Roman citizenship to secure lawful treatment and to appeal to Caesar when local opposition threatened the work, showing that God can incline even worldly structures to serve the advance of His word (Acts 22:25–29; Acts 25:10–12). The empire that crucified the Lord unwittingly built the network by which the message of His resurrection would outrun its contempt, for “the word of God is not chained” (2 Timothy 2:9).
Even where Scripture never names specific barbarian tribes, its geography and promises reach them. The Servant song foretells a light to the Gentiles, salvation reaching “to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). The psalmist anticipates kings of distant shores bringing tribute to the Messiah (Psalm 72:10–11). When Jesus promised power from the Spirit to bear witness in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth, He aimed His disciples at that horizon (Acts 1:8). The phrases that formed Israel’s worship defined the map that shaped apostolic mission.
Biblical Narrative
Paul’s self-description in Romans sets the tone. He writes that he is obligated “both to Greeks and non-Greeks, both to the wise and the foolish,” replacing cultural ladders with the economy of grace (Romans 1:14). He is not ashamed of the gospel because it is God’s power for salvation to everyone who believes, first to the Jew and then to the Gentile, a formula that honors Israel’s place in redemptive history while opening a door that no one may shut (Romans 1:16–17). His eagerness to preach in Rome and beyond flows from this conviction, for he intends to proclaim Christ where He has not been named, “so that those who were not told about him will see, and those who have not heard will understand” (Romans 15:20–21; Isaiah 52:15).
Colossians presses the truth that cultural category does not define kingdom standing. In the new humanity being renewed in knowledge after the image of the Creator, there is no advantage left for Greek over barbarian, circumcised over uncircumcised, slave over free, because Christ Himself is the all-sufficient center and indwelling life of His people (Colossians 3:10–11). This is not a denial of difference but a gospel announcement that every identity bows before the Lord Jesus and every believer stands complete in Him, for “in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness” (Colossians 2:9–10).
Acts supplies a living picture on Malta after the shipwreck that scattered passengers along the shore. Luke records that the islanders—non-Greek speakers—showed “unusual kindness” by building a fire and welcoming the soaked survivors (Acts 28:2). When a viper fastened on Paul’s hand and he suffered no harm, the crowd swung from superstition to wonder; later, Paul laid hands on the father of Publius, and the man was healed, after which others came and were cured (Acts 28:3–9). Hospitality met apostolic ministry, and the grace of God overcame barriers of language and expectation, so that people with no place inside Greco-Roman pride became honored hosts to the gospel. The scene illustrates how “a gift opens the way and ushers the giver into the presence of the great,” and here the gift is the gospel itself (Proverbs 18:16).
Paul’s preaching strategy anticipated hearers beyond cultured centers. City after city, he began in the synagogue, reasoning from the Scriptures that the Messiah had to suffer and rise, and then he turned to the marketplace, where many tongues and trades gathered, urging idol worshipers to turn from worthless things to the living Creator who “has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons” (Acts 17:2–3; Acts 17:17; Acts 14:15–17). His Mars Hill address models the same dynamic in a learned environment: he commends the Maker whom the Athenians did not yet know and calls for repentance because God has set a day to judge the world by the Man He raised from the dead (Acts 17:22–31). Whether in synagogues, streets, or by the sea, the apostle treated all hearers as image-bearers who needed the same Savior.
The epistles extend the narrative by instruction. Paul urges believers to live in a way that makes the gospel clear across difference: “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:5–6). He reminds the church that its unity comes from the cross, where Christ “destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility” and created “one new humanity” in Himself, reconciling both Jew and Gentile to God in one body (Ephesians 2:14–16). That reconciliation applies along every axis where sin erects false hierarchies—ethnic, social, or cultural—for the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on Him (Romans 10:12).
Theological Significance
From a dispensational perspective, the New Testament’s inclusion of barbarians showcases the present administration of grace in which God is calling out a people for His name from all nations while preserving His covenant commitments to Israel. The promise to Abraham that “all peoples on earth will be blessed” in his seed stretches from the patriarch’s tent to the apostles’ journeys, and its present expression is the gospel preached among the nations, bringing Gentiles into spiritual blessing through faith (Genesis 12:3; Galatians 3:8–9). The church is not a nation but a body, not a replacement for Israel but a mystery now revealed, formed by the Spirit as Jews and Gentiles are baptized into one new man in Christ (Ephesians 3:4–6; 1 Corinthians 12:12–13).
Paul’s insistence that he owed the gospel to Greeks and barbarians undercuts pride that measures worth by language and custom. In the church, standing comes by union with Christ, not pedigree, and fullness comes from the Head, not initiation into a favored culture (Colossians 2:10; Colossians 2:19). The labels that once kept people apart lose their power where Christ is all—not because culture vanishes but because Christ’s lordship puts all lesser identities in their place and binds diverse members into one body by love (Colossians 3:11–14).
The presence of barbarians in Scripture also signals the outward movement of God’s saving plan. The Servant’s mission to be a light to the nations, reaching to the ends of the earth, was not a metaphor but a mandate the apostles obeyed with their feet, trusting that the God who ordained times and boundaries also opens hearts when His Son is named (Isaiah 49:6; Acts 16:14). That movement will reach its final fulfillment not in the church’s triumph over culture but in the Lord’s return, when He restores Israel according to the covenants and rules the nations from Jerusalem, and “the knowledge of the Lord will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea” (Romans 11:26–29; Isaiah 11:9). In that day, “all nations will come and worship” before Him, and those once deemed outsiders will be among the worshipers because grace has written their names in the Lamb’s book of life (Revelation 15:4; Revelation 21:27).
The Malta episode offers a doctrinal note worth drawing out. The islanders’ kindness reflects common grace—the Creator’s goodness that restrains evil and prompts good even among those who have not yet heard the gospel, for God “has not left himself without testimony” in doing good, giving rain and fruitful seasons (Acts 14:17). The healings that follow show saving grace’s arrival, attesting the message and messenger, so that what began as hospitality becomes a stage for the kingdom. God’s providence and gospel work often run together; the Lord prepares the soil by mercy before He sows the seed of the word.
Colossians 3 also shapes a way of life for the church. If Christ is all and in all, the church must replace suspicion with sympathy and contempt with compassion, clothing itself with kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience as evidence that the new self is being renewed after its Maker (Colossians 3:10–13). The peace of Christ must referee hearts in which old rivalries still want to play, and the message of Christ must live richly among us as believers teach and admonish one another with wisdom, singing to God with gratitude because grace has made us one (Colossians 3:15–16). Doctrine that dismantles proud labels must lead to practices that defuse proud hearts.
Spiritual Lessons and Application
The first lesson is missionary and immediate: the church owes the gospel to those far from its language and near to its doorstep. Paul’s sense of debt to Greeks and barbarians exposes our tendency to select audiences that already look like us. The Spirit presses us outward and across, reminding us that “faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ,” whether the hearer speaks the city’s common language or a tongue the church must learn to love (Romans 10:17). The Great Commission commands discipling all nations, and the Pentecost gift equips the church to make the message plain in languages of the heart (Matthew 28:19–20; Acts 2:6–8).
The second lesson is pastoral and persistent: congregations must grow habits that match their confession. If Christ is all and in all, partiality becomes intolerable within the body, for to favor the polished over the plain is to deny the Lord who became poor for our sake so we might become rich in Him (James 2:1–4; 2 Corinthians 8:9). The alternative is not shallow sameness but deeply Christian hospitality that welcomes the stranger, shares burdens, and honors members the world overlooks, for “practice hospitality” and “carry each other’s burdens” are commands of the same Lord (Romans 12:13; Galatians 6:2).
The third lesson is about how we speak to those who disagree—be gentle and clear. Paul calls believers to answer each person with grace seasoned with salt, counsel that assumes careful listening, patient clarity, and a refusal to return insult for insult when cultural friction arises (Colossians 4:5–6; 1 Peter 3:15). When the church speaks Christ in this way, some who once wore the label barbarian may hear the Shepherd’s voice in their own tongue and rejoice, for “my sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).
The fourth lesson is hopeful and steady: today’s outsider may be tomorrow’s missionary. Scripture prepares us for such turnarounds by portraying the Lord who chooses the foolish things to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong, so that no one may boast before Him and all boasting may be in the Lord (1 Corinthians 1:27–31). The category barbarian therefore becomes an invitation to expect grace where pride expects little.
The final lesson is devotional and daily: gratitude fuels unity. Paul saturates Colossians with thanksgiving because grace stirs gratitude, and gratitude loosens the grip of superiority. When the peace of Christ rules in the heart and the word of Christ dwells richly, the church grows into a people for whom difference becomes an occasion for praise rather than scorn, for “from him and through him and for him are all things. To him be the glory forever” (Colossians 3:15–16; Romans 11:36).
Conclusion
Barbarian began as a sound-alike word and became a slur, but in the mouth of the apostle and under the hand of the Spirit it becomes a signpost pointing to the gospel’s breadth. The New Testament does not romanticize difference, nor does it deny it. It names it and then names a name greater than every name, for “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow… and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:10–11). Paul’s debt to Greeks and barbarians, his welcome among the islanders of Malta, and his insistence that Christ is all and in all tie a knot the church must not untie. The world will keep rebuilding its pecking orders. The church must keep rehearsing its creed: “one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Ephesians 4:5–6).
From Eden’s promise to the patriarchs through the prophets and into the present age of the church, God has aimed His mercy toward the nations. He will keep every promise to Israel and gather a people from every tribe and tongue to sing the song of the Lamb. On that day, the word barbarian will fall silent, swallowed by a louder truth—that Christ is all and is in all, and that He has made peace by His blood for those who were far and those who were near (Colossians 1:20; Ephesians 2:17).
“After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.’ ” (Revelation 7:9–10)
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