Paul’s To-Do List: Spain, Rome, and a Lot of Friends
When I read Romans 15 and 16, I was struck by how personal these chapters feel compared to the rest of Paul’s letter. Earlier sections of Romans are dense with argument and theology, but here the tone shifts. Suddenly, Paul is talking about travel plans, asking for prayers, and greeting people by name. It’s a reminder that these writings weren’t abstract essays—they were letters to real communities.
In Romans 15:23–24 (NLT), Paul writes, “But now I have finished my work in these regions, and after all these long years of waiting, I am eager to visit you. I am planning to go to Spain, and when I do, I will stop off in Rome. And after I have enjoyed your fellowship for a little while, you can provide for my journey.” This passage caught my attention because it reveals Paul’s ambitions and also his practical needs. He wanted to travel further west, to places he had never been, and he expected help along the way. The combination of spiritual mission and logistical planning feels very human. It makes me wonder how much of history—both religious and otherwise—comes down to the small details of funding, travel arrangements, and timing.
The First-Century Acknowledgments Page
Romans 16 takes this even further. Paul greets an entire list of people, naming individuals like Priscilla and Aquila (v. 3), Andronicus and Junia (v. 7), and Phoebe (v. 1). Each name hints at a story we don’t fully get to see. These weren’t just names on a page; they were people with lives, families, and commitments who played a role in the growth of the early Christian communities. Reading this list feels almost like flipping through someone’s acknowledgments section at the end of a book. It makes me think about how movements, whether religious, political, or cultural, depend not just on prominent leaders but on a wide network of collaborators.
Footnotes Who Changed History
Another detail I noticed is how diverse this group appears to be. Some names are Jewish, others are Greek or Latin, and Paul points out that several are women who clearly had influence. For example, Phoebe is described as a deacon of the church in Cenchrea (16:1). It’s a reminder that the early church was not a monolithic community but a mix of people from different backgrounds, all contributing in different ways. I can’t help but compare this to other historical movements where the footnotes—the people whose names rarely make it into the big narratives—are actually essential to understanding how things happened.
What stands out in these final chapters is not another theological argument but a glimpse into Paul’s life and network. He wasn’t just a writer of letters; he was a traveler making plans, a colleague depending on others, and a friend remembering names. It brings him into sharper focus as a person rather than just a voice on the page.
As I close out Romans, I’m left with an impression: history, whether sacred or secular, is made up of individuals—some remembered, many forgotten—working together in ways that don’t always make it into the headlines but shape the story all the same.