Who We Once Were

Paul likes lists. If you’ve read his letters, you’ve seen that. Qualifications for elders. Commands for older men, older women, younger men, younger women. Instructions to slaves. And now, another list, this one is different though. This list isn’t what we should be. It’s what we were. It’s the list of sins Christ saved us out of.

"For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures, passing our days in malice and envy, hated by others and hating one another (Titus 3:3)."

This is not just a rhetorical flourish. It’s purposeful. Paul is showing us what we used to be so we don’t forget just how far grace has brought us. This isn’t about wallowing in guilt—it’s about anchoring ourselves in humility. Lists like these are for self-examination. They’re meant to crush pride. To kill the idea that we were somehow better, smarter, or more deserving than the next guy.

We weren’t.

Every person starts here, dead in sin, blind to the truth, hostile to God. That’s true of you. That’s true of me. And if we actually believed that, if we understood the darkness we were dragged out of, we’d be both humbler and bolder. Humbler, because we’d remember we were just as lost. Bolder, because we’d know God can save anyone. He saved us, didn’t He?

So let’s walk through the list. One by one.

Paul starts in verse 3: “we ourselves were once foolish.” That word “foolish” doesn’t just mean lacking knowledge. It means lacking spiritual sense—being morally stupid. One word study just said “stupid.” That’s what we were.

But biblical foolishness runs deeper than low IQ. Psalm 14:1 says, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’” That’s not an intelligence issue. That’s a heart problem. The fool doesn’t want to know. He suppresses the truth, ignores the obvious, and digs in. It's not ignorance—it’s rebellion dressed up like neutrality.

Jesus says the same in Luke 24:25. “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe.” The evidence was there. The prophets had spoken. But the disciples still didn’t believe. Why? Their hearts didn’t want to. It wasn’t a brain issue, it was a will issue.

That’s the kind of foolishness Paul means. A hard-hearted, willful blindness to God’s truth. That’s where every single one of us starts, until the Spirit opens our eyes.

Next up: disobedient. That’s tied closely to foolishness. When you refuse to see, you won’t submit. And the word here for “disobedient” doesn’t just mean rule-breaking, it means stubborn, unleadable. It’s the goat that plants its feet and yanks the opposite way on the leash.

We had a goat once named Pickle. I’d try to lead her across the barnyard, and not only would she not move, she’d pull the other way. Total defiance. Later she had a baby, and I named it “Stupid.” That’s what disobedience looks like, not passive resistance, but a will set against being led.

Paul’s pressing into something ancient here. In both Jewish and Roman culture, obedience was foundational, especially to parents and to God. That’s why he calls out “disobedience to parents” in other letters. It’s not just about a rebellious teenager. It’s about the breakdown of the most basic order.

Disobedience is a refusal to be led. And Paul reminds us that was our default. Not to shame us, but to humble us. To magnify the grace that reached us anyway.

Then he says we were “led astray”—or “deceived,” depending on your translation. Either way, it’s about wandering off the path because we believed a lie. And lies aren’t harmless. Ideas have consequences. You live out what you believe—about God, about yourself, about good and evil. You follow what you trust.

And these lies don’t always come from outside. Sometimes we lie to ourselves. We want comfort, we want control, we want excuses, and we’ll believe anything that gives them to us. So we chase convenient lies and call them truth. That’s what Paul’s describing. Spiritual deception. Self-deception. A fog of falsehood that led us away from God and into ruin.

Next: “slaves to various passions and pleasures.” This is where the list really gets personal. Foolishness and disobedience leave you wandering, but what drives the wandering? Desire. Craving. The leash isn’t held by reason, it’s held by lust.

The word “passions” here refers to disordered desires. Not all unnatural. Some of them are perfectly natural desires, just ungoverned. Out of place. Out of control. Passion in the driver’s seat, and no one at the wheel.

Same with “pleasures.” This is where we get the word hedonism. It’s about living for the next hit. The next thrill. And again, pleasure itself isn’t the problem, Scripture says there are pleasures forevermore at God’s right hand. But when pleasure becomes god, you become a slave.

That’s why the first line of the catechism matters so much: “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” That’s the right order. God first. Joy second. But we flipped it. And it ruined us.

Then Paul says we “passed our days in malice and envy.” That phrase, passed our days, hits harder the older you get. You start thinking about how much time you’ve wasted. Time you can’t get back. Time you wish you’d spent differently.

And what were we doing with that time? Malice. Envy.

Malice is the intent to do harm. Not always physically—sometimes emotionally, financially, reputationally. But harm, nonetheless. A slow cancer of the heart. There are people who take real pleasure in hurting others. We see it in war and abuse, but the seed is in all of us apart from Christ. It’s a dark joy in someone else’s downfall.

Then there’s envy. Similar to jealousy, but deeper. Envy doesn’t just want what someone else has, it wants them not to have it. It grieves when others rejoice. It rejoices when others grieve. It looks at blessing and sees injustice.

Envy often hides. It simmers. It rehearses internal scripts: *I was overlooked. They don’t deserve it. I’ve been cheated.* And it poisons the soul.

One of the best ways to kill envy? Celebrate someone else’s win. Out loud. Thank God for it. Cheer for them. It’s a simple habit—but over time, it chisels away at bitterness.

Finally, Paul closes the list with this: “hated by others and hating one another.” That’s the world, plain and simple. Mutual, constant hatred. Everyone hating everyone. Resentment cycling through families, communities, generations. A total breakdown of love, no love for God, no love for neighbor. Just raw, corrosive hatred.

And Paul paints it this stark on purpose. He’s not exaggerating, he’s stripping away illusions. These sins show up in different degrees, sure, but Paul cranks the volume so we don’t miss the point.

Why?

Because he’s about to tell us something scandalous: love those people.

Avoid quarreling with them. Be gentle and show perfect courtesy toward all people (Titus 3:2). Why?

Because you used to be just like them. And God saved you anyway.