THE OBEDIENCE OF FAITH (Santamaria)

Romans 16:25–26 is Paul’s final chord, and it rings like a cathedral bell. After fifteen chapters of sin exposed, grace proclaimed, justification defended, sanctification clarified, Israel considered, the church instructed, and love commanded, Paul ends by lifting your chin upward: the gospel is not a human idea that stumbled into history. It is God’s eternal purpose breaking into time—now revealed, now published, now calling the nations to the “obedience of faith.”

Here is the Greek text (with a plain, honest translation right under it):

Τῷ δὲ δυναμένῳ ὑμᾶς στηρίξαι
κατὰ τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν μου καὶ τὸ κήρυγμα Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ,
κατὰ ἀποκάλυψιν μυστηρίου χρόνιοις αἰῶσιν σεσιγημένου,
φανερωθέντος δὲ νῦν,
διὰ τε γραφῶν προφητικῶν κατ’ ἐπιταγὴν τοῦ αἰωνίου θεοῦ
εἰς ὑπακοὴν πίστεως,
εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη γνωρισθέντος…

“To the One who is able to strengthen you, according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery kept silent for long ages, but now manifested—and through prophetic writings, according to the command of the eternal God, made known to all the nations unto the obedience of faith…”

Even before you parse the details, the shape is obvious: this is not a man congratulating himself for writing a letter. This is a man disappearing behind the glory of the God who saves.

Paul begins with God’s ability: Τῷ δὲ δυναμένῳ—“to the One who is able.” The adjective/participle here comes from δύναμαι (dynamai), “to be able, to have power.” Paul doesn’t end Romans by saying, “Now to you who are serious enough… disciplined enough… educated enough…” He ends by saying, “Now to God who can.” That is already a sermon. The Christian life is not sustained by your inner steel. It is sustained by divine power.

And what does God’s power do here? ὑμᾶς στηρίξαι (hymas stēriksai)—“to strengthen you,” “to establish you,” “to make you stand.” The verb στηρίζω (stērizō) is about making something firm, stable, set. It’s the opposite of being spiritually blown around by moods, trends, teachers, guilt, fear, or persecution. Paul knows Rome is full of pressure: Jewish/Gentile tension, imperial shadow, spiritual pride, spiritual despair. So he says the gospel doesn’t merely save you once; it stabilizes you. God does not rescue His people like a lifeguard yanking someone out of the water only to toss them back into the surf. He establishes.

Then Paul gives the instrument and measure of that strengthening: κατὰ τὸ εὐαγγέλιόν μου καὶ τὸ κήρυγμα Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ—“according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ.”

“My gospel” is not Paul claiming ownership like a brand. It’s Paul’s way of saying, “the gospel entrusted to me, preached by me, the same gospel I’ve laid out in this letter.” And notice how he immediately pairs it with the proclamation (κήρυγμα, kērygma) of Jesus Christ. The gospel is not a philosophical system. It is an announcement—like a herald (κήρυξ) crying news in the street. Something has happened. A King has acted. A salvation has been accomplished. A righteousness has been revealed.

And right there you should feel the difference between Christianity and mere religion. Religion (as humans naturally do it) is often advice: “Here’s what you must do to climb to God.” The gospel is news: “Here is what God has done to come down to you.” Paul ends with that tone. God strengthens you not by giving you a ladder, but by giving you Christ proclaimed.

Now the mind-bending phrase: κατὰ ἀποκάλυψιν μυστηρίου—“according to the revelation of the mystery.”

The word ἀποκάλυψις (apokalypsis) means an unveiling, a disclosure, something made visible that wasn’t visible. And μυστήριον (mystērion) in Paul does not mean “a puzzle for clever people” or “secret knowledge for an elite club.” In the New Testament sense, a “mystery” is something God had in His purpose all along, but which humans could never deduce, and which only becomes known when God reveals it. It’s not “mysterious” because it’s irrational; it’s “mystery” because it’s God-originated and God-disclosed.

And what was the status of this mystery? χρόνιοις αἰῶσιν σεσιγημένου—“kept silent for long ages.” That participle σεσιγημένου comes from σιγάω (sigaō), “to be silent.” The imagery is stunning: the gospel was not improvised. It was not invented by apostles brainstorming. It was not humanity slowly discovering God through moral evolution. It was God’s plan, present in His purpose, yet in a real sense “silent” across long stretches of history—until the time came for it to be spoken plainly.

Then the divine “now” breaks in: φανερωθέντος δὲ νῦν—“but now manifested.” φανερόω (phaneroō) is “to make manifest, to make visible, to bring into the light.” Paul loves the “now” of the gospel. Not because the Old Testament was false, but because the Old Testament was pregnant. The child has been born. The shadows have met their substance. The promises have met their Yes and Amen.

So Paul is saying: the gospel of Jesus Christ is not a late add-on to an old religious system. It is the unveiling of what God was doing all along.

And here is where the paragraph gets beautifully paradoxical. Paul calls it a mystery “kept silent,” and then in the next breath he says it is manifested through prophetic writings: διὰ τε γραφῶν προφητικῶν.

That is not a contradiction; it’s the nature of biblical revelation. The Old Testament genuinely speaks, and yet it speaks in a way that often remains veiled until Christ comes. The prophecies are real, the promises are real, the types and shadows are real—but the full brightness of what they mean is revealed when Jesus stands in the center and says, in effect, “It was about me.”

So the gospel is both ancient and newly revealed: ancient in God’s purpose and in prophetic witness; newly revealed in clarity, fullness, and fulfillment. That is why a Christian reading of the Old Testament is not a game of forcing Jesus into random verses; it is recognizing that Scripture itself was written with a forward pull, like an arrow pointed toward Christ.

Then Paul grounds this revelation in authority: κατ’ ἐπιταγὴν τοῦ αἰωνίου θεοῦ—“according to the command of the eternal God.”

ἐπιταγή (epitagē) is not a suggestion; it’s an order, a directive. The gospel isn’t “one spiritual option among many.” It is a royal command from the God who is αἰώνιος (aiōnios)—eternal. That word matters. Empires rise and fall, philosophies bloom and rot, but the God who speaks this gospel does not age. He is not trending. He is not updating His values every century. He is the eternal God, and the gospel is published by His command.

And published to whom? εἰς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη γνωρισθέντος—“made known to all the nations.”

ἔθνη (ethnē) is “nations,” often “Gentiles.” This is the worldwide horizon of Romans. The gospel is not an ethnic trophy. It is not Israel’s private possession, nor Rome’s imperial ideology. It is God’s announcement to the entire human family—Jews and Gentiles, barbarians and Greeks, wise and foolish, slave and free.

But Paul doesn’t end with “made known.” He ends with purpose: εἰς ὑπακοὴν πίστεως—“unto the obedience of faith.”

This phrase is dynamite. ὑπακοή (hypakoē) is obedience—literally a “hearing under,” the posture of submitting to what is heard. And it is obedience of faith—or obedience that consists in faith—because the first and central obedience the gospel calls for is not “clean yourself up and become impressive.” It’s the surrender of self-trust. Faith is obedience because it bows. It stops negotiating. It stops auditioning for salvation. It receives Christ as Lord and Savior.

This is why Paul can preach justification by faith alone and still speak of obedience without contradiction. Faith is not rebellion with religious vocabulary. Faith is submission to God’s righteousness in Christ. Faith is the end of boasting. Faith is the death of self-salvation. Faith is obedience at the root, producing obedience in the fruit.

So Romans ends with a theology of stability and a theology of revelation. God strengthens His people through the gospel; the gospel is the unveiled eternal purpose of God; it is rooted in prophetic Scripture; it is commanded by the eternal God; it is made known to all nations; and it aims at faith-filled obedience.

Now bring this down into the bloodstream of life.

Many Christians feel unstable because they treat the gospel like the doorway into Christianity rather than the foundation of Christianity. They think they are saved by grace and then maintained by performance. Paul says the opposite: God is able to strengthen you “according to” the gospel. The gospel is not simply how you begin. It is how you stand. When the conscience accuses, you stand by the gospel. When suffering strips you, you stand by the gospel. When the world flatters, you stand by the gospel. When death whispers, you stand by the gospel. The same Christ who justified you is the Christ who steadies you.

And Paul’s “mystery revealed” also rebukes another instability: the craving for novelty. Human religion is addicted to “new.” New techniques, new revelations, new secret insights, new spiritual hacks. Paul says the gospel is not a novelty; it is the eternal purpose now unveiled. You don’t need fresh inventions; you need firm establishment in what God has already revealed. The church is not called to manufacture a new message. It is called to proclaim the message God commanded.

And the phrase “through prophetic writings” is a healing medicine for Bible reading. The Old Testament is not a pile of moral tales. It is prophetic witness that converges on Christ. That means the Bible is not mainly a self-improvement manual; it is a God-revelation that culminates in the gospel. Read the Scriptures with that center, and they become coherent; lose that center, and they become a maze.

Finally, “to all nations” is a rebuke to small-hearted Christianity. The gospel is not for one culture’s comfort. It is God’s command to the world. That doesn’t mean every culture becomes identical; it means every culture must kneel. The gospel dignifies the nations because it addresses them; it humbles the nations because it calls them to obey Christ.

So if Romans 16:25–26 had one pastoral punch, it would be this: the God who wrote the story is not confused about the story, and the God who revealed the gospel is not uncertain about the gospel, and the God who commands it to the nations is not timid about the gospel. Therefore His people should not be shaky, secretive, or ashamed about the gospel.

Let the last note of Romans land where Paul intended: not on your ability, but on God’s; not on your cleverness, but on God’s revelation; not on your private spirituality, but on God’s worldwide purpose; not on your unstable feelings, but on God’s strengthening power through the proclamation of Jesus Christ.

The gospel is older than Babylon, stronger than Rome, and wider than the world. It was not invented yesterday, and it will not expire tomorrow. It is the unveiled mystery of the eternal God—made known to the nations—so that sinners who were once rebels might become worshipers through the obedience of faith.