THE LETTER TO THE ROMANS

Save for later. It’s longer. Roman’s 1 through Phebes eyes. Several of us are doing a Study in Romans. This brings it from a different perspective. Hope you find inspiration.

THE LETTER TO THE ROMANS

Phebes mission

(From the perspective of Phebe, servant of the church at Cenchrea)

I feel if I tell my story, it may help you understand better why this man Paul is so well respected and beloved by many:

—-

The salt wind swept over the bow, stinging my face as Corinth’s shoreline disappeared behind the rising mist. I gripped my satchel tighter—inside, wrapped in linen and sealed with care, was a letter. Not just a letter. The letter. The most sacred thing I had ever carried in all my years of service. Words from Paul himself. Words he entrusted to me—to deliver and, if necessary, to speak aloud.

I am Phebe, servant of the church in Cenchrea, a small harbor town just east of Corinth. Some call me a deaconess; others a helper, a succourer. Paul called me that himself: “a succourer of many, and of myself also.” The word in our tongue is prostatis—a guardian, a benefactor, one who stands before others in times of need. I was born with means, yes—but also with a heart that burned when I saw injustice or suffering. And so, I used what I had: a home open to the persecuted, hands ready to bind wounds, and feet willing to walk into dangerous places others dared not go. I’m tough, but I’ve been through a lot.

Paul and I met through the fellowship in Cenchrea. Many do not know that the port there has become a refuge—an underground flame of believers growing bolder by the day. Sailors, merchants, widows, freed slaves, and Roman citizens—yes, even some from Caesar’s household—gathering in candlelight to break bread and remember the Lamb. That is where Paul stayed often, and it is where he wrote these very words. Not in the glamour of Athens, nor the power halls of Corinth—but in the humility of Cenchrea.

I remember when he called me to his side. His face was worn, his eyes fierce with love.

“Phebe,” he said, “this letter must go to Rome. Not just delivered—read. These are not idle greetings or scattered teachings. These are the doctrines of heaven. And you—your life, your reputation, your voice—have earned their ears.”

I wanted to protest. “I can’t. They won’t listen… A woman? In Rome? With all its politics and suspicion? With such a mix of peoples and culture? No…” My mind swirled. But Paul would not hear it. He had watched me long enough. I had stood before magistrates on behalf of imprisoned believers. I had housed travelers from the East and West, and I had spoken with gentleness and boldness in the gatherings. I was no stranger to danger—or to truth.

So here I am. Sailing toward the heart of the empire with a scroll that could set fires in the souls of saints—and alarms in the minds of rulers. But my heart still questions how will they receive me?

⸻

Arrival in Rome

After weeks at sea and a final journey on foot, I stood before the gathered church. Though I was still exhausted from the long trek, they met in the shadow of the Palatine Hill, tucked away in the home of Priscilla and Aquila. The room was full—men, women, children, Greeks, Jews, former slaves, city officials, and wanderers—each face turned toward me with the ache of longing. You could see the hunger in their eyes. Paul was right to send me, I just knew it. Paul had never visited them, and yet his fame, and more so his gospel, had reached even here.

I unwrapped the scroll with trembling hands. Silence fell.

They looked at me—not as a woman unfit to speak, but as a sister carrying fire.

And then I began:

“Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated unto the gospel of God…”

Each word was like rain to dry ground. Some wept. Some nodded fiercely. Some simply sat, stunned, as if heaven had parted and truth had entered the room.

I did not add to his words. I did not embellish or preach. I simply read. And I watched it change them.

I was not merely a courier. I was a vessel. A witness. A voice echoing Paul’s final longing.

He had told me once,

“They are my crown, Phebe. Even though I’ve never seen their faces—God has shown me: they will shine.”

And shine they did. What an edifier he is! Encouragement isn’t always pleasant and Paul doesn’t hold back. So let me tell you his story as I read the letter to your Roman church. This is the man who had a life hanging experience and a calling from the Lord:

⸻ I cleared my throat, “These are his words, his story, then he has a letter he wrote to your body, the church.” And then continued:

…. The dawn had only just begun to whisper over the tiled rooftops when Paul opened his eyes. The room was still dark, lit only by a soft orange glow bleeding through the edges of the wooden shutters. He stretched his legs, stiff from sleep and wearied from yesterday’s discussions—always discussions. The gospel had to be shared, the Word defended, the believers strengthened. Yet today, something else weighed on him, something he could not shake.

Rome.

He hadn’t planted the church there. No familiar faces came to mind when he thought of the Roman believers, not as with Ephesus, Philippi, or Corinth. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of them. It was if he could feel the struggles of this wide mix of people from all walks of life. Word had spread of their faith—yes, even in that city of empires and emperors, slaves and senators, orgies and orators—the name of Jesus was being whispered and shouted, quietly prayed and boldly preached. And Paul felt it in his bones: he was being summoned there, even if his feet had not yet followed.

He rose from his mat, joints cracking slightly as he knelt. The stone floor was cold under his knees, but warmth stirred within as he began his morning prayers.

“First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for them all… I think I want to start with that.” He said to his trusted friend.

He prayed aloud, voice hushed, but filled with affection. He had not seen them, but he loved them.

After breaking bread and sipping from a jar of cooled water, Paul took his place at the low writing table. Tertius, his scribe, sat beside him, fresh scroll ready.

Paul exhaled deeply and looked at him. “Write this down,” he said softly. “There is something burning in me today.”

Tertius nodded and dipped the quill.

⸻

“Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle…”

He spoke slowly, deliberately, laying out who he was—not for vanity, but for clarity. They didn’t know him well. They needed to hear his heart before they could bear his rebuke.

Why even write?

Because Rome was the heart of the world’s power, and if the gospel could thrive there, it could spread like wildfire. But more than that—he felt responsible. He was a debtor to all: Greek and barbarian, wise and foolish. He owed them the truth. Even if he hadn’t built that church, his calling was to build The Body.

⸻

Later in the morning, after a small meal and time among some local believers who’d gathered for encouragement, Paul returned to the scroll.

His brow furrowed now.

“The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness…”

He paused after the words were spoken.

“Are you certain you want to say it this strongly?” Tertius wiped his brow and asked, looking up.

Paul’s eyes didn’t move from the window’s light. “They live in Rome. They know sin. But do they understand its consequences? They must. If the sickness is not exposed, how will they know they need the cure?”

He clenched his hands together.

“I long to go to them not just to teach—but to be comforted by their faith, too. We need each other. The world is growing darker, Tertius. Rome is a parade of gods and perversions. It seduces men with philosophy and power, but underneath it’s rotting.”

Tertius nodded slowly. “Then you must name it.”

And Paul did.

Not with a cold heart, but a broken one. He spoke of unnatural lusts, the reprobate mind, the twisted ways men and women had rejected the glory of God. He was harsh, but not vindictive. Each word was a torch in a dark tunnel. He hoped they would see.

He hoped they would survive and live.

⸻

By mid-afternoon, the room had grown hot. Paul wiped his brow and stepped outside for air. Children played nearby. A woman sang as she beat out grain. Life moved on. Sin endured. But grace abounded.

He looked to the sky.

“God, send me there. Open the way. If not my feet, then let this letter go in my place, and shake the city like You shook me on the Damascus road.”

The wind stirred.

He returned to his table.

⸻

That evening, as candles were lit, Paul finished the first chapter. The scroll was marked with urgency and mercy. Rome would hear both. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to read. He wasn’t interested in ease. He was interested in truth—and transformation.

And so, he dictated the final words of that long indictment. Not to condemn, but to warn. Not to belittle, but to call out.

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ…”

He whispered it like a vow.

Because Rome needed power.

And the gospel was power.

The only kind that could save.

——

“First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all, that your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world. For God is my witness, whom I serve with my spirit in the gospel of his Son, that without ceasing I make mention of you always in my prayers; making request, if by any means now at length I might have a prosperous journey by the will of God to come unto you. For I long to see you, that I may impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established; that is, that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me. Now I would not have you ignorant, brethren, that oftentimes I purposed to come unto you, (but was let hitherto,) that I might have some fruit among you also, even as among other Gentiles. I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Barbarians; both to the wise, and to the unwise. So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the gospel to you that are at Rome also. For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Greek. For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith. For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness; because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse: because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things. Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves: who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen. For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: and likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet. And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient; being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, without understanding, covenantbreakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful: who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them.”

Romans 1:8-21, 23-32 KJV

——

I Phebe, finished Paul’s bold opening, and the room was extremely still. No one dared speak, they seemed to be overcome with God’s conviction. You could feel the hush. Although they didn’t know Paul in person, I could see his words dancing in their minds and penetrating their souls.

The mention of the wrath of God against ungodliness stirred the unease. Some of the Gentile converts shift uncomfortably, especially when I spoke of those who worshipped creation over the Creator. The older Jewish believers nodded solemnly, remembering how pagan Rome once drew them into despair.

But when I proclaimed these words, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ,” hope rose. A young Roman woman whispered, “That power—it’s the only thing that rescued me from the bathhouses and temples.” Another moaned deeply and reverently, seeing his own former lusts exposed in Paul’s words. These folks lives were changed, even in just this one section. Both the pious Jews as well as the repentant pagan. This was just the beginning.

A silence of utmost adoration and conviction settled. The Spirit was already cutting to the heart. One elder wiped his face, stood and said with wistful emotion, “Paul has not even greeted us long, and already we are on our knees.”

The group broke out in spontaneous praise…

——To be continued:

If you like this- I will continue to share as I finish- thanks for reading. - DJS