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Romans 1:16a “For I am not ashamed of the gospel…”

Think

Shame is a powerful force. It can silence your voice, shrink your confidence, and keep you from standing for the things that matter most. And Paul knew that if there was ever a message people might be tempted to be ashamed of, it was the gospel.

At the time he wrote this letter, the message of Jesus was anything but popular. Rome was proud, polished, and powerful. The idea that salvation came through a crucified Jewish carpenter from a conquered people group sounded absurd. Foolish, even. The cross wasn’t a decorative symbol—it was an execution device. A death reserved for the lowest of criminals. To say you followed a man who died that way was to associate yourself with weakness and scandal.

And yet Paul says, boldly and without apology, “I am not ashamed.” Not hesitant. Not half in. Not guarded in his tone or cautious with his words. Paul knew how the gospel sounded to others—and he still declared it with joy.

Why? Because he understood what was behind it.

Paul knew the gospel wasn’t weak, even if the world thought it was. It wasn’t outdated or irrelevant or naïve. It was truth. It was power. It was the only thing that could raise the dead, heal the heart, and rewrite eternity. That’s why he wasn’t ashamed—because he knew the source, and he had seen the results.

We live in a culture that values performance, image, and applause. You’re expected to present the most polished version of yourself. To post with filters. To talk in soundbites. To never offend. In that kind of world, the gospel can feel risky. It exposes weakness. It calls out sin. It tells you you’re not enough on your own. And for many, that’s offensive.

So, we tone it down. We edit our language. We hesitate in spiritual conversations. Not always because we’re embarrassed of Jesus, but because we’re afraid of what people will think of us. Afraid of sounding narrow, extreme, or outdated. We carry the hope of the world, but we speak of it quietly, like we’re trying not to disturb anyone.

That’s why Paul’s words hit so hard: “I am not ashamed.”

Imagine someone handing you a wrapped gift that you know contains a cure—something that could absolutely save a life. And as you walk into a room of hurting people, you hide it behind your back. You’re afraid they’ll mock the wrapping, or question where it came from, or roll their eyes at the offer. But still, you hold it. Still, you know what it can do. The longer you stay silent, the heavier it feels. Not because it lost power, but because you didn’t share it.

That’s what shame does. It keeps us hiding what we were meant to hold up. Not because the gospel is fragile, but because we are. We care what people think. We fear rejection. We don’t want to be misunderstood. But at some point, we have to decide which opinion matters more—God’s or theirs.

Paul had been laughed at, chased out of cities, imprisoned, beaten, and eventually killed for the gospel. But even after all that, he still said, “I am not ashamed.” Because he knew the cross was not a symbol of failure. It was a symbol of rescue. And if Jesus wasn’t ashamed to take on our sin, we don’t need to be ashamed to speak his name.

Being unashamed doesn’t mean being loud or aggressive. It doesn’t mean shouting truth without love. It means being steady. It means being clear. It means being willing to speak the name of Jesus in places where it’s not always welcome. Not to be provocative, but to be faithful.

It means you pray when others scoff. You serve when others retreat. You live with quiet courage in the conversations, friendships, and circles where faith feels like a foreign language. You don’t power up. You show up. You bring grace and truth together. And when the door opens, you don’t apologize for the hope that holds you up.

You may never preach a sermon, but you can live like one. You can be unashamed in the way you carry peace into tension. In the way you forgive quickly. In the way you talk about where your strength comes from. In the way you gently name Jesus—not as an accessory to your life, but as the reason you’re still standing.

We’re not called to be abrasive. We’re called to be anchored. And when you’re anchored in the truth, you stop letting fear define your silence.

So ask yourself today: Am I unashamed of the gospel, or just familiar with it? Because if it’s still good news to you, you won’t keep it quiet.

Apply

Write down one area of your life where you’ve been quiet about your faith—maybe at work, on social media, or in a specific relationship. Ask God to give you one opportunity this week to speak with clarity and love. Not to defend yourself, but to declare your hope. Then take it.

Pray

Jesus, help me live unashamed. Not defensive or loud, but faithful and clear. Let my life be rooted in truth, even when it’s not popular. Give me boldness in the moments I want to shrink back. Help me speak your name with confidence and love. You were not ashamed to stand with me. I don’t want to be ashamed to stand with you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.