But Now Everything Changes

Read

Romans 3:21 “But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify.”

Think

There are some phrases in Scripture that stop everything. “But now” is one of them. It’s a pivot point. A turn in the road. A sentence that signals a new beginning. And in Romans 3, those two words carry the weight of everything Paul has been building up to. After chapters of diagnosing human sin and moral failure, after laying bare our inability to reach God through the law or our own effort, Paul finally says what our hearts have been aching to hear: “But now.”

It’s the kind of phrase that flips a story. Like the moment in a movie when all seems lost—then the phone rings. Or when the headline says, “Missing child found safe.” It’s the kind of phrase that reverses despair and replaces it with hope. “But now” is gospel oxygen for souls gasping under the weight of shame, guilt, and striving.

Paul has just finished explaining that every one of us—religious and irreligious, rule-followers and rebels—falls short of God’s glory. None of us can climb high enough, run fast enough, or try hard enough to be made right through our own performance. That’s the tension he creates in Romans 1–3. But Romans 3:21 begins the turn. He’s not leaving us in despair. He’s preparing us for deliverance.

The righteousness of God—his moral perfection, his standard of holiness, his very character—has now been made known apart from the law. In other words, what we could never achieve through rules, rituals, or self-effort has now been revealed another way. A better way. And that way is not a system. It’s a person.

This is the shift Christianity offers that no other belief system can: righteousness is not something we work our way toward. It’s something God makes available, apart from our ability to follow the law. Paul’s Jewish readers would have grown up with the law as the standard of righteousness. It was the path, the guide, the measure. But even then, the Law and the Prophets pointed ahead. They were never the destination. They were the signs leading to the Savior.

It’s like reading the first chapters of a story and finally reaching the part where the plot begins to resolve. The earlier chapters had purpose, but they were incomplete without this one. That’s how Paul describes the Old Testament—it was always testifying, always pointing forward, always setting the stage for what has now been revealed in Jesus.

Imagine someone stuck at the bottom of a well. They try climbing up, scraping their hands against the walls, building makeshift ladders out of what they can find. But they never make it high enough. And just when their strength runs out, a rope is lowered from above. That rope is grace. That rope is Christ. The righteousness of God comes down to us because we could never rise up to it.

The phrase “apart from the law” doesn’t mean the law was useless. It means the law was never the final answer. It revealed our need. It highlighted our lack. But it couldn’t save us. And trying to use it for what it was never designed to do only leaves us exhausted and empty.

Here’s where this gets deeply personal: every one of us still tries to earn righteousness in some way. We may not use the word, but we feel the weight of it. We want to prove that we’re enough. That we measure up. That we’re worthy of love, acceptance, approval, or even forgiveness. So we build resumes, perform well, avoid certain sins, do good things, and hope it adds up to something. But underneath all that effort is a quiet fear: what if it’s not enough?

That’s what makes “but now” such a life-giving interruption. It tells us we don’t have to earn what has already been revealed. Righteousness isn’t a prize for the spiritually strong. It’s a gift for the spiritually needy. It doesn’t come from the law—it comes from the Lord.

Paul will go on to explain how this righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ. But first, he wants us to feel the weight of the shift. The ground has moved. The story has turned. The door we thought was locked has opened from the other side.

You don’t have to climb your way to God. The gospel says he came down to you. “But now” means you can stop striving and start receiving. It means you can stop living like grace is a prize you win and start believing it’s a gift you’re offered. The righteousness of God has been made known. The question is—will you receive it?

Apply

Today, pause and ask yourself where you’ve been trying to earn what God has already given. Maybe you’ve been evaluating your worth by your performance, your past, or other people’s opinions. Write out a simple confession to God, naming the areas where you’ve been striving instead of trusting. Then write two words over that list in big letters: but now. Let that reminder reframe your heart today—because when God steps in, the story changes.

Pray

God, thank you that your righteousness is not something I have to earn, but something you’ve revealed and made available through Jesus. I confess that I’ve tried to measure up on my own. I’ve carried the weight of performance and missed the freedom of grace. But now, because of your mercy, I can rest. Teach me to stop striving and start trusting. Let the truth of your gospel reshape how I live today. In Jesus’ name. Amen.