Why Romans?

Read

Romans 1:16–17 “For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: ‘The righteous will live by faith.’”

Think

What’s the most important letter you’ve ever received? A college acceptance? A breakup? A job offer? A diagnosis? Some letters hit like lightning. They don’t just inform you. They reroute you. They stop you in your tracks and shift the whole story.

Romans is that kind of letter.

It didn’t show up in an envelope, but it carries more weight than any document ever sealed with a stamp. Romans has been called “the most profound writing in existence” and “the most important book in the New Testament” for good reason. It has sparked revivals, ignited reformations, and flipped the lights on for countless believers who were wandering in the dark.

Imagine a legal document that declares your record clean. Imagine a love letter that says, "I see everything, and I still choose you." Imagine a battle strategy that turns the tide in a war you thought you were losing. That’s what this letter is. It is heady, yes. It’s theological. But at its core, it’s personal. Paul isn’t just presenting doctrine—he’s handing us dynamite.

“I am not ashamed of the gospel,” Paul says, and then he calls it what it is: power. Not inspiration. Not suggestion. Power. The word he uses, dunamis, is where we get “dynamite.” In other words, the gospel doesn’t just explain something—it explodes something. It breaks through the crust of shame, addiction, and self-reliance. It levels the lie that we can save ourselves. It collapses the scaffolding of religious performance and plants the flag of grace right in the rubble.

This is not just theory. It’s history. Martin Luther, tormented by guilt, read Romans and suddenly saw that righteousness wasn’t something he had to produce—it was something God had already provided. That one realization cracked open the Protestant Reformation. Centuries later, John Wesley heard Luther’s commentary on Romans and felt his heart “strangely warmed.” Revival followed. Augustine, wrestling with desire and despair, found clarity in a few verses from chapter 13. Everything changed.

But Romans wasn’t written for the spiritually elite. It was written to believers in Rome who were facing pressure, persecution, and confusion. Some were new to the faith. Others were trying to figure out what it meant to follow Jesus in a culture that wanted nothing to do with him. Sound familiar?

Paul hadn’t even visited them yet. But he knew what they needed. Not a pep talk. Not a five-step plan. A reminder. A foundation. A vision of a righteousness that doesn’t come from striving but from surrender. A righteousness that is by faith, from first to last.

The gospel Paul is preaching here doesn’t come with fine print. It’s not an exclusive offer for the morally polished. It’s for everyone who believes—Jew or Gentile, seasoned saint or brand-new seeker, doubter or devoted disciple. If you’ve ever felt disqualified by your past, too broken to belong, or too tired to keep pretending, Romans is for you.

And the power it describes? It’s not just a spiritual charge for Sundays. It’s power that enters Monday’s meetings and Tuesday’s temptations and Thursday’s traffic jams. It’s the power to forgive when you want to hold a grudge, to hope when the odds are against you, to trust when everything in you wants control. It is resurrection power in daily life. And it’s not abstract. It’s embodied in Jesus, given through grace, and made real by faith.

You might be tempted to skim Romans or see it as “too deep” or “too dense.” But maybe it’s not too deep. Maybe it’s just deep enough to meet you at the places you’ve stopped going. That quiet shame you’ve made peace with. That hidden fear that God has passed you by. That pressure to perform or pretend. Romans dives straight into those places and doesn’t leave you there. It pulls you out. Not with hype, but with hope.

That’s why this letter still matters. It isn’t stuck in the past. It moves through every age and culture and lands right in your lap with the force of eternity behind it. If you’ll let it, it will unsettle you. Rewire you. Renew you. Romans is not for the curious. It’s for the courageous. For those who are willing to be undone and remade.

So here we are at the start of the letter. The envelope is open. The words are alive. And they’re not just for your mind. They’re for your soul. Are you ready?

Apply

Take a moment to identify one area of your life that feels powerless right now. It could be a relationship you can’t fix, a habit you can’t break, a fear you can’t shake, or a wound that still hurts. Now picture that struggle not as a dead end, but as the very place God’s power wants to enter. The gospel doesn’t skip over your weakness—it moves straight through it. Ask God to meet you there this week. Let that spot become your starting point.

Pray

God, I’ve tried to solve so many things in my own strength. I’ve wrestled with shame, control, fear, and doubt. But today, I want to start fresh. Remind me that the gospel isn’t just for getting into heaven—it’s for living with hope right now. Help me not be ashamed of it, but anchored in it. Let your power work in me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.