Read

Romans 1:16b “…because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes…”

Think

Paul didn’t call the gospel a suggestion, an idea, or a philosophy. He called it power. And not just any kind. He said it is the power of God. That’s a bold claim, especially considering the cultural moment he was living in. Rome was obsessed with power—military might, political control, intellectual prestige. But Paul points to a different kind of power. One that didn’t come from the sword or the senate, but from a Savior. One that didn’t puff up egos but broke chains.

The word Paul uses here for power is dunamis—the root of our word "dynamite." It speaks of an explosive, uncontainable force. Something that alters its environment the moment it’s unleashed. That’s how Paul understood the message of Jesus. Not as a collection of principles or moral teachings, but as a divine force that changes everything it touches.

Unlike dynamite, though, which often destroys, this power builds. It resurrects. It transforms. It doesn’t just stir emotion or inspire hope. It completely rewires your heart and identity. It replaces death with life, despair with joy, and guilt with grace. And it doesn't need your help. It only needs your surrender.

And what is this power aimed at? Salvation.

For many, the word “salvation” sounds abstract or future-tense, like something that happens at the end of your life. But Paul isn’t talking about something reserved for your last breath. He’s talking about rescue in the here and now. The gospel doesn’t just save you from eternal separation. It saves you from the daily weight of sin, shame, addiction, pride, fear, and striving.

To be saved is to be delivered, not only from something but into something. You are rescued from the penalty of sin and brought into a new life of freedom. And that rescue isn’t because of effort. It isn’t because you finally got your act together. It is solely because of God's power at work through the gospel.

Paul knew this firsthand. He had been a man of violence and self-righteousness. He had ordered the persecution of Christians, watched people be killed for their faith, and did so with pride. But the gospel didn’t treat Paul as a lost cause. It didn’t wait for him to apologize. It confronted him on a dusty road to Damascus and turned his story upside down. Not because he deserved it, but because that’s what God’s power does—it makes dead things live again.

Think of it like this. Imagine a dry, hardened field in the middle of a drought. No crops, no color, just cracked earth. No amount of effort will make something grow. But then rain comes. It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t need the soil to be ready. It falls freely and soaks deep. Within days, life begins to break through the surface. What once looked like ruin is now growing something beautiful. That is what the gospel does. It finds the driest places in your heart and brings them back to life.

But here’s the catch. This power isn’t for everyone automatically. It’s for everyone who believes. That’s not a limitation. It’s an invitation. Belief is the open door. Not behavior. Not heritage. Not spiritual résumé. Just belief. That’s the scandal of the gospel. It doesn’t reward performance. It responds to faith.

The offer of salvation is universal, but the application is deeply personal. It meets you in the place where you finally stop striving. Where you stop trying to fix yourself. Where you admit that you cannot carry your story alone and you trust the One who already carried it to the cross.

So why don’t more people experience that power? Not because it’s unavailable. But because it’s unfamiliar. We live in a world where self-reliance is celebrated. We're told that healing is within us, that the answer is to dig deeper, try harder, hustle more. But the gospel is the opposite. It says stop striving. Come empty. Come tired. Come desperate. And you’ll find more than relief. You’ll find resurrection.

Sometimes we forget that the gospel is still this powerful. We start treating it like advice instead of a miracle. We compartmentalize it into Sunday mornings or church language. We treat it like a once-in-a-lifetime decision instead of a day-by-day reality.

But the gospel isn’t something you graduate from. It’s the foundation of your freedom, your identity, and your purpose. It’s what allows you to walk into every new challenge with confidence. Not because you have what it takes, but because you know who holds you.

And here’s the wild part: the same power that saved you is now working through you. When you walk in forgiveness instead of bitterness, when you love people who are hard to love, when you stay faithful in the quiet corners of life—that is power. Quiet power. Humble power. Eternal power.

You may not always feel strong. You may still battle sin and insecurity. But if you have placed your faith in Jesus, you are not powerless. The Spirit of God lives in you, and the gospel is not finished with you.

Think of a power line running into a dark house. The electricity is already there. The power is active and available. But unless someone flips the switch, the rooms stay dark. Belief is the switch. And every time you trust God's promises over your own performance, every time you surrender your will to his, another light comes on. That is what the gospel does. It illuminates everything.

Maybe you’re in a place right now where everything feels stuck. Like nothing is moving forward. Like you’ve hit the same wall again and again. You don’t need better advice. You need deeper belief. You need to remember that the God who saved you once is still saving you now. And his power hasn’t weakened.

The cross is still enough. The empty tomb is still victorious. The gospel is still the power of God that brings salvation—to you, to your family, to your friends, to that situation that looks impossible. You don’t have to make it work. You just have to believe.

Apply

Start your day tomorrow by praying this simple sentence: “God, show me one person today who needs the hope of the gospel.” Then watch. Be present. Look beyond the surface. Maybe it’s the cashier who looks exhausted, a coworker carrying silent pain, or a friend you’ve been avoiding the conversation with. Don’t worry about saying the perfect thing—just show up, listen well, and love boldly. You’re not responsible for saving anyone, but you are responsible for showing up with the good news.

Pray

God, thank you that the gospel is more than words. It is power. I bring you the places in me that still need rescue—the sin, the shame, the struggle. I believe that your grace still saves, still changes, still frees. Help me trust that power today. Don’t let me settle for trying harder when you’ve called me to trust deeper. In Jesus’ name. Amen.