We are Saints
How to Live in the Present Reality of Sonship
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The candle‑lit assembly room of a modest Ephesian home was thick with tension—and thick with the aroma of spiced oil lamps, damp wool, and sweat from a day’s labor at the docks. On one side of the mosaic‑tiled floor sat Jewish believers, still wrapped in the prayer shawls of their fathers, whispering psalms in low Aramaic tones. On the other side clustered Gentile artisans—bronze‑smudged hands folded awkwardly, the scent of molten metal lingering on their tunics, Roman sandals scraping stone. Between them, a table bore a single loaf and a shared cup, yet the distance felt like a chasm. Words of worship hung in the rafters, but unspoken grievances crackled louder: disputes over diet, Sabbath customs, and whose lineage carried greater weight in the Messiah’s story.
A Jewish elder rehearsed the Torah’s call to holiness; a Gentile widow nervously recalled meat sold in Artemis’ market. One stray comment erupted into murmurs, murmurs into sharp rebuttals. Two peoples—both redeemed by Christ—stared across a rift of suspicion that seemed as old as Abraham himself. Mid‑argument, a deacon hurried in with a sealed scroll, fresh from Rome’s prison chains. Silence fell as the courier unrolled parchment and read: “To the saints who are in Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus …” (Eph 1:1).
Saints. ἁγίοις (Hagiois). Holy Ones.
How could Paul address such fractious, imperfect disciples with so sacred a title? Could it be that merit does not confer sainthood? Is it possible that we are not sinners in the hands of an angry God, but saints in the hands of a loving God?
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Our New Identity in Christ
Paul’s audacious salutation was not flattery; it was theology in one word. In Christ, warring factions have been forged into one new humanity (Eph 2:15). When anyone—Jew or Gentile, slave or free, woman or man—trusts the risen Lord, the old person is crucified with Him, and a new creation springs to life (2 Cor 5:17). Heaven’s adoption decree, stamped with the blood of the Lamb, transfers us from the orphanage of sin into the household of God (Eph 1:5). If the Father calls us children (Rom 8:16) and the Son calls us brothers and sisters (Heb 2:11), the Spirit crowns us hagioi—“holy ones,” saints—set apart by sheer grace. Holiness is not an elite achievement; it is the birth certificate of everyone reborn in Christ.
Yet the Ephesian believers still sinned, still bristled with prejudice. As do we. The scandal of the gospel is that divine status is mediated by Christ’s performance, not ours. God does not merely drape us with a borrowed robe to disguise filth; He regenerates us, then clothes us because that is the proper attire for His children (Isa 61:10). Holiness is first an inheritance before it becomes a habit; identity precedes behavior as sunrise precedes daylight.
The Prodigal Pattern
Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11‑24) illustrates the logic of identity with vivid clarity. The rebellious son, reeking of swine and squander, trudged home rehearsing his demotion speech: “Make me like one of your hired servants.” Instead, his father sprinted to restore him—ring for authority, robe for dignity, sandals for sonship upon covenant soil. Those tokens were not disguises masking failure; they were emblems of unbroken relationship. In the same way, the Father greets every penitent believer with the wardrobe of rightful heirs (Rom 8:17). Condemnation and accusation find no footing where the Father’s embrace prevails, for perfect love expels fear (1 John 4:18).
Redefining “Saint”
Across centuries, church culture gradually shifted the word saint from a birthright to a badge of extraordinary merit. Miracle‑working martyrs and austere ascetics monopolized the term, while ordinary congregants settled for labels such as “just sinners saved by grace.” The unintended result has been generations striving for a title that was theirs all along. Scripture, however, stubbornly refuses any other designation. As in Ephesus, in Corinth—a church riddled with lawsuits, drunken communion, and scandalous immorality—Paul nonetheless addresses his letter “to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints” (1 Cor 1:2). What we do may grieve or gladden God, but it never reclassifies us in His family registry.
“But I Still Struggle …”
Believers often protest: If I am a saint, why do I still sin? Sanctification is the progressive out‑working of a fixed reality. Our heavenly inheritance is “kept in heaven for you—imperishable, undefiled, unfading” (1 Pet 1:4). Neither our darkest failure nor the devil’s fiercest lie can edit God’s ledger. The Spirit’s daily task is to align our conduct with our birthright, empowering us to live from acceptance, not for it.
Living Out Sainthood
Knowing we are saints transforms every sphere of life—conflict, repentance, vocation, and spiritual battle.
Reconciled Relationships
In Ephesus, identity preceded unity. Jews and Gentiles could finally drop their weapons because Christ had slain the hostility on His cross (Eph 2:14‑16). Modern divisions—racial, political, generational, denominational—heal the same way. We approach adversaries not as rival claimants to holiness but as fellow heirs standing on identical grace. To remember that your opponent in a church dispute is a saint is to remember that Heaven’s degree is that you are now brethren, co-heirs with Christ.
Confident Repentance
Sin now violates our nature, not defines it. The saint confesses quickly because shame has lost its authority. Like the prodigal, we sprint home knowing a ring awaits, not a rod. Genuine repentance, then, is not groveling for status but reclaiming fellowship. In God’s economy, conviction is a rescue line, not a courtroom summons.
Purposeful Mission
Saints are ambassadors (2 Cor 5:20). Freed from self‑reproach, we announce freedom to captives with credibility. The world’s labels—addict, failure, misfit—dissolve under the glowing imprint of holy one. We disciple others into that same liberating identity, inviting them to exchange their false names for the Father’s blessing.
Spiritual Warfare Standpoint
Identity also anchors us in warfare. The devil’s primary strategy is accusation (Rev 12:10). He cannot unsave a believer, so he labors to unseat our confidence. When you stand firm in sainthood, flaming arrows fizzle against the shield of faith. We resist not with bluster but with certainty: I am who God says I am.
Conclusion
Paul’s opening line to a quarrelsome Ephesian church still echoes through every sanctuary, living room, and heart: We are saints. Not someday. Not if our track record improves. Now. Always. This is the settled verdict of the cross and the empty tomb. Believe it, wear it, and let the world witness heaven’s family walking the earth in humble, holy confidence—rings shining, robes billowing, sandals pounding out the rhythm of grace.
Have you been striving for the position in Christ that is already yours? Have you considered yourself a sinner and not a saint? If so, pray this prayer:
*Father of lights, I approach You weary from striving and wounded by the labels I have worn—labels pinned on me by the world, the enemy, and even my own tongue. Yet Your Word, immutable and merciful, calls me holy. Today I lay down every accusation—whether it rose from my heart, from bitter memories, or from the father of lies. *
I receive the ring of authority You extend, the robe of righteousness You drape across my shoulders, and the sandals that root me in the paths of peace. Holy Spirit, breathe fresh wind upon the embers of my true identity until they blaze into steady flame. Train my mind to think saintly thoughts, my lips to speak saintly words, my hands to move in saintly deeds. Where I have nursed resentment toward my brother, infuse me with the forgiveness You lavish on me. Where I have hidden in shame, draw me into glorious light.
I renounce the lie that I must earn Your favor; I embrace the truth that Your favor pursued me while I was still a long way off. Let this revelation seep into every crevice of my heart, coloring how I work, worship, and witness. Make my life a living testimony that proclaiming Christ’s finished work is more powerful than rehearsing my unfinished flaws. I am Yours—sealed, secure, and sent. Thank You, Father, for calling me a saint. In Jesus’ victorious name I pray. Amen.*
Bibliography
Barclay, William. The Letters to the Galatians and Ephesians. Westminster John Knox Press, 1976.
Chester, Tim. Ephesians for You. The Good Book Company, 2014.
Ferguson, Sinclair B. Children of the Living God. Banner of Truth, 1989.
Gorman, Michael J. Participating in Christ. Baker Academic, 2019.
Keller, Timothy. The Prodigal God. Dutton, 2008.
Keener, Craig S. The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament. IVP Academic, 2014.
Moo, Douglas J. Created in God’s Image. IVP Academic, 2021.
Stott, John R. W. God’s New Society: The Message of Ephesians. IVP, 1979.
Swindoll, Charles R. Insights on Ephesians. Tyndale House, 2015.
Tozer, A. W. The Knowledge of the Holy. HarperCollins, 1961.
Vanhoozer, Kevin J. Remythologizing Theology. Cambridge University Press, 2010.
Wright, N. T. Paul: A Biography. HarperOne, 2018.
Yancey, Philip. What’s So Amazing About Grace? Zondervan, 1997.
Youngblood, Ronald F. Ephesians: The Mystery of the Body of Christ. Zondervan, 1999.
Zacharias, Ravi. The Grand Weaver. Zondervan, 2007.
Scripture References
Ephesians 1:1; 2 Corinthians 5:17; Ephesians 1:5; Romans 8:16‑17; Luke 15:11‑24; 1 John 4:18; 1 Corinthians 1:2; 1 Peter 1:4; Ephesians 2:14‑16; 2 Corinthians 5:20; Revelation 12:10; Isaiah 61:10; Hebrews 2:11.