We come to Christ for salvation, and somewhere along the way, we settle for just being saved. We know we’re forgiven, but we’ve forgotten who we’ve become.
Welcome to a Journey of Rediscovery
Over the next three weeks, we will explore one of Scripture’s most powerful declarations about our identity. In Revelation 1:5-6, John writes: “and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler over the kings of the earth. To Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and has made us kings and priests to His God and Father, to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”
Read those words slowly. Christ hasn’t just saved you—He has made you something. A king. A priest. Both. Simultaneously. This isn’t metaphorical window dressing or spiritual poetry to make us feel better. This is the bedrock reality of who you are in Christ.
In this first article, we’ll consider the foundation: the blood that both cleanses and crowns. In our second article, we’ll discover what it means to live as kings—exercising authority and dominion in a world that desperately needs to see heaven’s rule. Finally, we’ll conclude by understanding our priestly calling—how we bridge heaven and earth, interceding and mediating God’s presence to a broken world.
The Order Matters
Notice the sequence in Revelation 1:5-6. Before John declares what we’ve become, he establishes who did this for us: “Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler over the kings of the earth.” Our transformation is rooted in His identity. We’re kings because He’s King. We’re priests because He’s our Great High Priest.
Then comes the crucial transition: “To Him who loved us and washed us from our sins in His own blood.” The blood comes first. Always. There’s no crown without the cross, no priesthood without the purification.
I’ve met too many Christians who want the authority of kingship without the cleansing of the blood. They want to rule their circumstances, command their destiny, speak things into existence—but they’ve skipped the washing. Others want the intimacy of priesthood, the closeness to God, the spiritual sensitivity—but they’re still carrying the weight of unwashed guilt.
The Dual Action of the Blood
Here’s where we need to sit with the profound mystery of Christ’s sacrifice. His blood doesn’t just do one thing—it accomplishes two revolutionary transformations simultaneously.
First, it washes. The Greek word used here conveys more than a quick rinse. It’s the thorough cleansing of someone completely covered in filth. Our sins weren’t surface stains—they were identity markers, defining who we were at our core. Slave to sin. Child of wrath. Dead in trespasses. The blood didn’t just clean the outside; it washed away the very nature of what we were.
I think of it like this: Imagine someone caked in mud, covered from head to toe, so thoroughly dirty that you can’t even see their original features. That’s us before Christ. When His blood washes us, it’s not maintenance cleaning—it’s the revelation of who we truly were meant to be all along, hidden under layers of sin and shame.
But here’s what we often miss: the same blood that washes also consecrates. It crowns. It sets apart. It transforms.
In the ancient world, the transition from slavery to royalty, from common person to priest, required more than just being cleaned up. It required a complete change of status, identity, and purpose. When Christ’s blood washes you, you don’t go back to being a cleaner version of your old self. You become someone entirely new—someone with royal blood running through their veins, someone set apart for holy service.
Why This Matters Right Now
Maybe you’re sitting in that place of spiritual mediocrity, wondering if there’s more. Or perhaps you’re newer to faith, still trying to understand what this Christianity thing really means beyond church attendance and moral improvement.
The truth is, most of us live far beneath our spiritual inheritance. We’ve been crowned, but we shuffle around like paupers. We’ve been consecrated as priests, but we live like we have no access to God’s presence. We know the doctrine of justification—we’re forgiven—but we’ve never truly grasped our transformation.
Think about your typical week. How often do you make decisions, face challenges, or interact with others from your identity as a king and priest? Or do you operate from your feelings, your circumstances, your fears, your past failures?
The enemy’s greatest victory isn’t getting you to reject Christ—it’s getting you to accept salvation while rejecting your identity. He wants you forgiven but powerless, saved but ineffective, clean but purposeless.
The Love That Precedes the Blood
Look again at the verse: “To Him who loved us and washed us.” The love comes first. This isn’t a reluctant god cleaning up dirty humans because he has to. This is a love so deep, so committed, so fierce that it willingly sheds royal blood to transform rebels into royalty.
Jesus didn’t die for you because you had potential. He died for you because He loved you—period. Not loved you enough to save you, but loved you enough to transform you. To make you something that reflects His own identity.
When you truly grasp this—that the King of Kings looked at you in your sin, loved you completely, and then gave His blood not just to clean you but to crown you—it changes everything. Your worst day can’t diminish your royal status. Your greatest failure can’t revoke your priestly calling. His love locked in your identity before the blood was ever shed.
Living From the Blood
So what does this mean for your Monday morning? Your difficult marriage? Your struggling finances? Your rebellious teenager? Your career disappointment? Your battle with addiction? Your chronic illness?
It means you don’t approach life as a victim hoping for rescue. You approach it as a king and priest whose identity is secure in Christ’s blood. When you face that difficult conversation at work, you’re not just an employee trying to survive—you’re a king exercising heaven’s wisdom in earthly situations. When you pray for that wayward child, you’re not just a worried parent—you’re a priest standing in the gap, mediating God’s presence and power.
The blood doesn’t just make you forgiven; it makes you formidable.
Every morning when you wake up, before your feet hit the floor, you need to remind yourself: “Today, I walk as one who has been washed and crowned by the blood of Jesus. I am a king. I am a priest. This is who I am, not because of what I’ve done, but because of what He’s done for me.”
A Question to Carry
As we close this first article and prepare for our next exploration of kingly authority, I want you to sit with this question: If you truly believed you were a king and priest, how would you live differently tomorrow?
Not someday. Not when you get your act together. Not when you feel more spiritual or pray more or sin less. Tomorrow. As you are. In your current circumstances. With your current struggles.
The blood has already done its work. You’ve been washed. You’ve been crowned. The only question left is: will you live like it?
Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear your thoughts. What does it mean to you that Christ’s blood both cleanses and crowns? Share in the comments below, or reach out personally if this resonates with something you’re walking through.
Next week, we’ll dive deep into what it means to live as kings—not in some future heavenly realm, but right here, right now, in the midst of your actual life. We’ll explore the authority you carry, the dominion you exercise, and the rule you establish. You won’t want to miss it.
Until then, remember: you’re not just forgiven. You’re royalty. You’re consecrated. You’re both king and priest.
Live like it.
