“Greet Priscilla and Aquila, my co-workers in Christ Jesus. They risked their lives for me. Not only I but all the churches of the Gentiles are grateful to them. Greet also the church that meets at their house. Greet my dear friend Epenetus, who was the first convert to Christ in the province of Asia. Greet Mary, who worked very hard for you. Greet Andronicus and Junia, my fellow Jews who have been in prison with me. They are outstanding among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was. Greet Ampliatus, my dear friend in the Lord. Greet Urbanus, our co-worker in Christ, and my dear friend Stachys. Greet Apelles, whose fidelity to Christ has stood the test. Greet those who belong to the household of Aristobulus. Greet Herodion, my fellow Jew. Greet those in the household of Narcissus who are in the Lord. Greet Tryphena and Tryphosa, those women who work hard in the Lord. Greet my dear friend Persis, another woman who has worked very hard in the Lord. Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord, and his mother, who has been a mother to me, too. Greet Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas and the other brothers and sisters with them. Greet Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas and all the Lord’s people who are with them. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the churches of Christ send greetings.” (Romans 16:3-16)

Be honest—you probably skim this part.

I get it. After fourteen chapters of some of the deepest writing in all of Scripture, a long list of names can feel like the fine print at the bottom of a contract. Necessary, maybe, but not exactly gripping. And yet Paul chose to include it anyway. Twenty-six people named. Dozens more mentioned. Every single one carrying a story worth knowing.

This isn't filler. This is a family photo of the early church.

"Greet Priscilla and Aquila, my fellow workers in Christ Jesus. They risked their lives for me. Not only I but all the churches of the Gentiles are grateful to them" (Romans 16:3-4).

Paul kicks off the list with a couple who literally put their lives on the line for him. He doesn't explain how or when. He just says they did it—and that a whole network of churches owed them a debt of thanks. Think about that. Two people, faithful in ways we'll never fully trace, whose courage rippled out further than they could have ever imagined.

Read slowly and a few phrases keep resurfacing.

Fellow workers in Christ Jesus. Not employees clocking in. Not volunteers filling a slot on a sign-up sheet. Workers, right alongside Paul, in the actual labor of the gospel.

Risked their lives. A reminder that spreading the good news back then wasn't comfortable or safe. For a lot of these men and women, faith wasn't a Sunday thing. It was a daily act of courage.

Worked very hard in the Lord. Paul says it of Mary, then again of Tryphena and Tryphosa, then again of Persis. He didn't toss that phrase around. These women served with a grit and stamina he felt he had to name out loud.

Tested and approved in Christ. A faith that got pressed hard and held. The real thing, proven under pressure.

Chosen in the Lord. Not chosen for ability or background. Chosen by grace.

And then, tucked quietly in the middle of it all, something tender: Rufus's mother, Paul says, "has been a mother to me, too." There's so much warmth in that line. Even Paul—tireless, driven, always on mission—knew what it was to be cared for. And he never forgot the people who did it.

Here's what really gets me about this list: look how different everyone is. Jewish names and Gentile names. Men and women. Wealthy households and people who were probably slaves. Some had sat in prison with Paul. Others he'd never even met in person. And yet they're all gathered under one phrase that keeps repeating like a chorus—in the Lord.

That's the only thing that explains this group. Not the same ethnicity. Not the same social status. Not even the same city. Just Christ, pulling together people who otherwise had nothing in common and making them into something that would outlast every one of them.

But here's what moves me most. Not one of these people knew they were being written into Scripture. Not one of them grasped how far the thing they were part of would reach. They were just being faithful—showing up, serving, taking risks, working hard, opening their homes to strangers.

And because they did, the gospel traveled. Because they did, you and I are still reading the letter they helped carry into the world.

Faithful obedience has a way of outlasting whatever we can see from where we're standing. That encouragement you offered. The help you gave. The welcome you extended to someone who needed it. It might be shaping something you'll never fully witness on this side of things.

Be faithful anyway. Honor the people God has placed around you. And trust that the same God who remembered Phoebe and Priscilla and Persis remembers you, too.

A Few Honest Questions:

1. Who in your church has served quietly and faithfully—how could you thank or encourage them today?

2. If your service has felt too small to matter, what changes when you trust that God remembers every act of love?

3. Where in your life is Christ—not background or personality—the only real explanation for the bond you share with someone?