Beloved, Saint… and Slave? What Romans 1 Really Says About You

Introductions matter.
If you’re in Brooklyn and you meet someone new, what’s the first thing they ask?

• “So what do you do?”
• “Where are you from?”
• “Who are your people?”

We lead with what we think proves our value—job title, education, connections, neighborhood. Paul doesn’t do that.

In Romans 1, he’s writing to the church in the capital city of the empire—Rome. Big city, big egos, big reputations. If anyone had an impressive religious résumé, it was Paul. Pharisee. Trained under Gamaliel. Brilliant mind. Strategic church planter. Wrote a huge chunk of the New Testament.

But listen to how he starts:
If you dig into that word “bondservant,” it literally means slave. No rights. No demands. No “you owe me.” Just: I belong to Jesus. And that wasn’t where he started. Before Jesus, Paul (then Saul) was hunting Christians, approving executions, dragging believers out of their homes. He was the church’s nightmare. So how does a man go from enemy of Christ to slave of Christ?

That’s the power of the gospel—and that’s what Romans is about. Not just doctrines in the air, but identity on the ground. Who you really are now that you belong to Jesus. Let’s walk through Romans 1:1–16 together and see how God wants to remake not just Paul, not just a church in Rome, but you and me—right here in Brooklyn.

“Paul, a bondservant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated to the gospel of God which He promised before through His prophets in the Holy Scriptures, concerning His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who was born of the seed of David according to the flesh, and declared to be the Son of God with power according to the Spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead.   Through Him we have received grace and apostleship for obedience to the faith among all nations for His name,  among whom you also are the called of Jesus Christ;  To all who are in Rome, beloved of God, called to be saints…” (vv. 1–7)

“I am a debtor both to Greeks and to barbarians, both to wise and to unwise. So, as much as is in me, I am ready to preach the gospel to you who are in Rome also. For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.” (vv. 14–16)

“Paul, a bondservant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated to the gospel of God…” (Romans 1:1)

Title-Driven to Identity-Driven
Before Jesus, Paul was all about titles:

• Pharisee
• Scholar
• Student of Gamaliel
• Defender of the Law
• 
  

In that religious culture, people dropped names like we drop LinkedIn profiles. “Do you know who trained me?” “Do you know my rank?” When Paul meets Jesus, all of that dies. He doesn’t open with, “Paul, a top-tier theologian, church planter, best-selling author.” He opens with, “Paul, slave of Jesus Christ.” He’s not polishing his brand; he’s confessing his Master.

This is maturity in Christ. Early on in our walk with God, we mostly need to hear:

• “You are beloved.”
• “You are forgiven.”
• “You are a saint.”

And that’s right and good. Paul calls the Romans “beloved of God, called to be saints” (Romans 1:7). You need that foundation. But as you grow, your vocabulary shifts from:
“I wonder if God loves me”
 to 
“I know He loves me, and now my life belongs entirely to Him.”

That’s the difference between a spiritual child who constantly needs reassurance and a spiritual soldier who knows the Commander loves them, even when He sends them into hard places.

Called… and Already Defined
“…called to be an apostle…” (Romans 1:1)

You can actually erase the “to be” in English. The idea is: “called an apostle.” Not “working hard to become something,” but “this is who God made me before the foundation of the world.”

Paul didn’t start in his calling. He had to discover it. He resisted it. He likely tried to negotiate it—“Lord, send me to the Jews, I’m trained for that.” God said, “No, I’m sending you to the Gentiles.”

Same with us. We stumble around trying to figure out our purpose, but God isn’t scrambling. He already knows who He made you to be. We’re the ones catching up.

Separated to the Gospel (In Every Role)
“…separated to the gospel of God…” (Romans 1:1)

This is huge. Paul isn’t just saying “I preach on Sundays.” He’s saying, “Every area of my life is set apart for the gospel.”

• As a tentmaker, he’s separated to the gospel.
• As a single man, separated to the gospel.
• As a brother to other believers, separated to the gospel.

For you in Brooklyn:

• As a teacher in Crown Heights—separated to the gospel.
• As an MTA worker—separated to the gospel.
• As a nurse at Methodist or Maimonides—separated to the gospel.
• As a parent in a small apartment in Bay Ridge—separated to the gospel.

The gospel isn’t one hat you wear on Sundays. It is the fabric of every hat you wear—worker, spouse, friend, neighbor.

Paul wants to clear something up early: the gospel wasn’t invented in the first century.
It was “promised before through His prophets in the Holy Scriptures.”

Jesus was “born of the seed of David” (fulfilling God’s promise of an everlasting kingdom through David – 2 Samuel 7:12–16).

He was “declared to be the Son of God… by the resurrection from the dead.”
This matters because critics (then and now) say:

• “Paul invented Christianity.”
• “Jesus was a good teacher; His followers turned Him into the Messiah.”

Paul says, absolutely not. All through the Old Testament—Genesis to Malachi—God is pointing forward:

• A promised Seed who would crush the serpent (Genesis 3:15)
• A suffering Servant wounded for our transgressions (Isaiah 53)
• A righteous King from David’s line (Jeremiah 23:5–6)

The probability of one man fulfilling all these prophecies by chance is beyond astronomical. And yet Jesus hits them all—His birth, His life, His death, His resurrection.
Christianity isn’t a creative remix. It’s the fulfillment of a long-promised plan.

Paul writes to a church he never planted, in a city he’s never visited, to people he’s never met. But listen to his heart:

• “First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world.” (Romans 1:8)
• “…without ceasing I make mention of you always in my prayers…” (Romans 1:9)
• “For I long to see you, that I may impart to you some spiritual gift, so that you may be established… that I may be encouraged together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me.” (Romans 1:11–12)

No Territorial Spirit
Paul doesn’t say:
“I didn’t plant that church, so it’s not my concern.”
“Rome? That’s someone else’s market.”
He sees one church—Christ’s church. Different cities, different congregations, one body.

He’s not trying to plant a “Paul’s Church, A Rome Campus.” He wants to:

• Establish them in sound doctrine.
• Encourage them.
• Be encouraged by them.

Imagine if that was our ministry culture in New York City.
Instead of:
“That new church plant is stealing our people.”
“Big churches versus small churches.”

We said:
“How can we strengthen the churches that are already here?”
“How can we encourage what God is doing in Bed-Stuy, Flatbush, Bushwick, Bay Ridge, not just in our own building?”

Rome… and Brooklyn: Gateways to the Nations
Paul has a strategic reason to love Rome:
Rome was a hub. If the gospel spreads there, it can spread everywhere.
Brooklyn is the same way. On any Sunday in a gospel-preaching church in Brooklyn, you might have:

• West Indians
• South Americans
• Middle Easterners
• West Africans
• Europeans

Long-time New Yorkers and brand-new arrivals
One transformed life here becomes a doorway for the gospel to reach:

• A grandmother in Guyana
• A cousin in Nigeria
• A friend in Pakistan
• A sibling in the Dominican Republic

Paul’s vision wasn’t “my church, my brand, my corner.” It was:
All nations. Every borough. Every block. Every background.

Paul says something that cuts against our entitlement culture:
“I am a debtor…”. He’s not walking around thinking, “God owes me a good life, a good ministry, a good apartment, good health.” He knows:

• God owed him nothing.
• God gave him everything in Christ.

Jesus bought Paul with His own blood. Paul’s conclusion?
“Now I owe my life in service to others.”

Grace That Leads to Obedience

• “Through Him we have received grace and apostleship for obedience to the faith among all nations…” (Romans 1:5)

Grace isn’t a permission slip to do whatever we want. It’s the power and the calling to obey.
Some of us live like:

“I’m forgiven, so obedience is optional.”
“God loves me; I can coast.”

Paul says no. Before Christ, you were a slave to sin. In Christ, you are a slave to righteousness.
You’re always serving someone—sin or Jesus. You don’t get to be your own master.

A true sense of grace doesn’t make you lazy; it makes you available:

“Lord, you bought me. How do You want to spend my life?”
“Who are the ‘barbarians’—the overlooked, the messy, the difficult—that You’re sending me to serve?”

If Paul had a theme song, this would be the chorus.
The gospel is:

• Power – not just ideas, but transformation.
• Of God – not from self-help or religion.
• To salvation – rescue from sin, death, and judgment.
• For everyone who believes – no ethnic, social, or intellectual barriers.

In a place like Brooklyn, people aren’t ashamed to talk about politics, hustle, astrology, hustle culture, or spirituality. But bring up Jesus, and suddenly it’s awkward.

Paul says, I refuse to be ashamed of the only message that can actually save a human soul.

Back in Genesis 15:13–14, while Abraham is in that deep sleep, God says:

Abraham’s response? Horror. Darkness. Distress.
As a parent, that hits home. You want your kids to have it easier than you. Imagine God telling you:
“Your children are going to walk through 400 years of difficulty.”

Sometimes, following God includes seasons we would never choose.
We often think: If it’s hard, I must be out of God’s will.

But sometimes: It’s hard because you’re in God’s will.

Two Main Reasons Difficulty May Show Up
It’s God’s purpose for growth or movement.
Sometimes we’re too comfortable.
You like your job.
You like your ministry.
You like your neighborhood in Brooklyn.

God has to shake things up to move you where you would never move on your own. That’s not punishment—it’s direction.

It’s the consequence of our sin or disobedience.  
Other times, like in Jeremiah’s day, difficulty comes because God’s people refused to listen. They ignored His Sabbath commands, chased their own plans, and God allowed captivity as discipline.

In both cases, the correct response is the same:
Call upon the name of the Lord.
Ask, “Lord, how did I end up here? Show me if this is discipline, direction, or both.”
Then either repent or persevere—or sometimes, both at once.

So what does all of this mean for everyday life—on the train, at your job, on your block?

1.   Let Jesus Rewrite Your Introduction

You may introduce yourself as:

• “I’m a nurse.”
• “I’m a single mom.”
• “I’m an immigrant.”
• “I’m a student at Brooklyn College.”

Those are true, but they’re not ultimate.

In Christ, your true intro is:

• “Beloved of God.” (Romans 1:7)
• “Called to be a saint.” (Romans 1:7)
• “Slave of Jesus Christ.” (Romans 1:1)

When you walk into your school or workplace in Brooklyn with that identity, everything shifts. You’re not just there to survive. You’re there sent, separated to the gospel.

2.   Embrace Being a Debtor, Not an Entitled Consumer
In a city like ours, it’s easy to live in “God, what have You done for me lately?” mode:

• “Where’s my breakthrough?”
• “Where’s my relationship?”
• “Where’s my bigger apartment?”

Romans calls us to a different posture:
Look at your subway line, your building, your classroom, your job in Brooklyn and say:
“I am a debtor here. I owe them the love, service, and message of Christ.”

3. See Other Brooklyn Churches as Family, Not Competition
Paul didn’t try to plant over existing churches; he tried to strengthen them.

If you’re part of a church in Brooklyn:
Pray for other gospel-preaching churches in our borough.
Celebrate when God blesses them.
Support joint outreaches that bless the city, not just your logo. That’s the heart of Romans 1.

Romans begins with a man who once murdered Christians introducing himself as a slave of Christ, writing to a mixed, messy church in a powerful city, reminding them:

• You are beloved.
• You are saints.
• You were saved for obedience.
• You are part of something meant for all nations.
• You carry a gospel that is the power of God.

That same God is at work in Brooklyn today—in small storefront churches, in house fellowships, in long-established congregations and brand-new plants.

The real question is: How will you introduce yourself now?
Loved only? Or loved and owned?
Spectator? Or slave of Christ?

Let’s pray:
“Father,
 Thank You that while we were still enemies, Christ died for us. 
Thank You that in Jesus we are beloved and called saints. Lord, move us from just knowing we are loved to living as those who belong to You.
  Separate our lives to the gospel in every role—at home, at work, in our neighborhoods here in Brooklyn.
  
Make us debtors to the people around us—willing to serve, to speak, to love in Your name.

Fill us with the same heart Paul had: not ashamed of the gospel, eager to see all nations—right here in our city—come to know You.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.”


It means you belong completely to Jesus—your time, gifts, relationships, and future. You’re not your own; you were bought at a price (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). It’s not forced slavery, but willing surrender to a perfect, loving Master.

Romans teaches that grace doesn’t free us to sin; it frees us from sin. We were slaves to sin; now we’re slaves to righteousness (Romans 6:17–18). Obedience is not how we earn salvation; it’s how we live out the salvation we’ve received.

Yes. Paul says the gospel was “promised before through His prophets in the Holy Scriptures” (Romans 1:2). Jesus fulfills Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah—His birth, life, death, and resurrection.

Start where you are. Invite Jesus into your actual schedule and roles. Ask, “Lord, how can I reflect You as I teach, clean, code, commute, parent, or study?” Being separated doesn’t mean leaving Brooklyn; it means living for Christ in Brooklyn.

It means you’re willing to identify with Jesus and speak about Him, even when it’s unpopular or awkward. Not rudely, not aggressively—but clearly, lovingly, and without embarrassment, believing the gospel is still God’s power to save in 2026 Brooklyn.

 Engage in prayer and surround yourself with a supportive faith community to help you focus on His promises.