Romans Chapter 1 (part 3)

If this is your first time receiving Covered in His Dust, welcome.

I’d love to hear where you’re reading from. Just reply and let me know.

Before diving into my notes, I encourage you to read Chapter 1 first.

I include all the scripture below, but there’s something about sitting with the whole chapter first — giving yourself room to be curious.

What catches you off guard?
What doesn't make sense?
Where is that?
Who's that?
Why?

Those questions will make the notes hit deeper.

"When disciples followed a rabbi, they followed him closely so they would never be out of his sight, never be someplace where they couldn’t hear him speak. They followed him so closely that his sandals often kicked up dust."

May you be covered in His dust.

Good morning Saints! ☀️

We’re slowing way down today.
We’re only looking at one verse.
But it’s thick with meaning.

Beloved.

This is God’s covenant love.

It isn’t general.
It’s personal, specific, and set apart.

This isn’t John 3:16 love—God’s love for the world.
That love is real.
And it’s deep.
It moved Him to send His Son.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

But Romans 1:7 isn’t that.

It’s deeper.

It’s not love for all.
It’s love for His own.
Those in Christ.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.” Jeremiah 31:3

That’s covenant language.

When Vonda and I adopted our children, it wasn’t because we don’t love all kids.

We do.

But that day in court wasn’t about a general love.
It was about five specific children.

We said their names.
We signed documents with their names on them.
We stood before the judge and made it clear:

“These are ours. They belong to our family now.”

That’s what beloved of God means.

It’s not a feeling.

It’s a declaration.
It’s adoption.
It’s covenant.

That one word, called, is doing a lot of work in that verse.

This isn’t God issuing an invitation.
It’s God giving you a name.
A declaration of identity.

It’s a naming.

It’s what God calls us now.

Like when Jesus renamed Simon to Peter or like when God named Abram “Abraham.”

It was identity spoken with authority.

It’s not “Hey, wanna be a saint?”

It’s the voice of God,

Naming you. He’s claiming you and setting you apart.

You were called into existence.
Called out of darkness.
Called by name.

Just like creation:

“Let there be light…” was said unto your heart, and there was light.
(reflecting 2 Corinthians 4:6)

Ever notice the words in italics in your Bible?
They’re easy to ignore.
But one of them just rewired how I see Romans 1:7.

Let me show you.

When I was a new Christian, I loved the NIV Study Bible. It’s a thought-for-thought translation—easy to read and understand. The notes, maps, and commentary helped everything come alive.

Today, I prefer the ESV. It’s what I use 95% of the time. When I quote Scripture in my notes, it’s the ESV unless I say otherwise.

The ESV is a word-for-word translation. It stays closer to the original Hebrew and Greek, even if it sounds a little more formal. I’ll still check the NKJV and the NIV when I study, but the ESV is home base.

Now take a closer look at Romans 1:7.

In the NKJV, the words “to be” are italicized.

That matters.

Italicized words in the NKJV mean they aren’t in the original Greek.
They’ve been added to help the sentence flow in English.

So if you read it more literally, here’s what Paul wrote:

“To all who are in Rome, beloved of God, called saints.”

That hits different, doesn’t it?

Not future tense.
Not something you grow into.
Not eventually.

It’s already true.

“Called to be saints” sounds like something you haven’t reached yet. Something you're trying to earn.

But “called saints”? That means God already sees you that way.

You’ve been named.

That’s the original. That’s what Paul meant.

It’s a small detail. But it shifts the entire weight of the verse.

Pay attention to those details. Italicized words, translation notes, footnotes—they matter. They help us hear God more clearly. And that’s why good commentaries and study tools are worth having on your shelf.

Think about where this letter was sent.

Rome.

The seat of empire.
The capital of paganism.
A place filled with idols, temples, sexual chaos, and violence.

And what does Paul call the believers there?

Saints.

The word hagios—saint—was used for sacred objects in the temple.

In Rome, they were surrounded by shrines to false gods, sexual cults, and political idolatry.

And Paul calls them holy ones.
That wouldn’t just be surprising.
It would be offensive to some.

Because God was calling common people sacred in the middle of spiritual chaos.

He doesn’t say, “Try to be saints in this dark place.” He says, “You are saints. In this dark place.”

Even in the heart of empire, God had a people.

I grew up Catholic.

A saint was someone officially recognized by the church. They lived a life of heroic virtue, performed miracles, and were formally declared a saint.

But here, and all throughout the New Testament, Paul calls ordinary believers “saints.”

So what does “saint” actually mean in Scripture?

In the Bible, a saint is simply someone who belongs to Jesus. The word comes from the Greek hagios, which means:

• holy one

• set apart

• consecrated to God

Paul wasn’t writing to people sitting in stained glass cathedrals.

He was writing to churches full of broken people. People who had been forgiven, redeemed, and called holy by the blood of Jesus.

He was writing to real churches.
Churches with new believers still unlearning old gods.
Churches with poor believers who had nothing but Christ.
Churches with messy believers—whose marriages weren’t healed yet, whose habits hadn’t caught up with their holiness.

And still, Paul calls them saints.

If you’re in Christ, that includes you.

Not because of what you’ve done.
But because of what Jesus did for you.

Grace and Peace

That phrase sounds like a friendly Christian greeting, but it was actually a revolution in a sentence.

In Paul’s day, the Greeks greeted each other with “grace” (charis).
The Jews greeted each other with “peace” (shalom).

Paul brings them together.

Not just as a polite hello, but as a declaration:

In Christ, there is no division.
Jew and Gentile.
Greek and Hebrew.
Slave and free.

Grace and peace is the gospel in shorthand. God’s unearned favor, and the peace that flows from it.

Paul hasn’t even started the letter yet, and we’re already drowning in grace.

He’s still saying hello.
But inside that hello…

Is the gospel.

Look at the order:

He called you beloved—before you ever obeyed.
He called you into light—before you knew what to do with it.
He named you saint—while you were still messy.
He gave you grace—while you were still trying to earn love.
And now?
He gives you peace—the kind no one can take.

Man, I love that Paul doesn’t waste words.
Not even in his greetings.

If you’re in Christ,

You’re beloved.
You’re called.
You’re a saint.
You stand in grace.
And peace belongs to you.

I love you,

George
Uncovering Scripture

PS: Don’t keep this to yourself. If someone popped into your head—send it. This might be the Word they’ve been waiting for.

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George Sisneros is a full-time missionary in Guatemala and the founder of Ordinary Missionaries and the El Rosario Christian Academy for Boys.

He’s been married to his wife, Vonda, for 27 years. He’s a father to nine children, five adopted.

In 2024, George and his wife expanded to Cuba, joining forces with nine pastors committed to transforming lives through the gospel.

You can get George’s newest digital book, Uncovering Scripture: The Gospel of Luke HERE.