Her name still shocks some when they hear it read aloud in church. Rahab — the prostitute of Jericho. She appears in one of the most triumphant and sacred chapters of Israel’s history, the conquest of the Promised Land. And she plays an unlikely, pivotal role: a Canaanite woman, a known sinner, shielding Israelite spies and believing in a God she had only heard rumors about.
And yet, despite her faith, her redemption, and her honored place in Scripture — how many little girls today bear her name?
We name our daughters Sarah, Hannah, Ruth, Esther. But Rahab? Rarely. She remains a bit too raw, a little too tainted, even though the Bible exalts her as a profound example of faith.
“By faith the prostitute Rahab, because she welcomed the spies, was not killed with those who were disobedient.”
— Hebrews 11:31, BSB
And that silence reveals something troubling: we often celebrate grace in theory but hesitate to honor the ones who most vividly display it.
A Woman Transformed by Grace
Rahab lived in a city destined for judgment. She was part of a culture under the wrath of God and bore a name synonymous with shame. But in the hour of her visitation, something happened in her heart that only God could do.
“We have heard how the Lord dried up the waters of the Red Sea… for the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below.”
— Joshua 2:10–11, BSB
Faith was born in Rahab before she ever laid eyes on an Israelite soldier. Before she belonged to God’s people, she believed in their God. And in that moment, the grace of God shattered every barrier — national, moral, spiritual — and claimed her as His own.
This is the kind of story we say we love — a sinner saved by grace. But Rahab’s name still makes many uncomfortable. Why?
Because she reminds us that grace offends the pride of respectable religion.
The Scandal of Grace
Grace doesn’t flatter. It doesn’t reinforce our illusions of decency or self-made righteousness. It tells the truth — that all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23). That we are not saved because we are good, but because God is merciful.
Rahab forces us to confront that reality. Her presence in the lineage of Christ (Matthew 1:5) is not a footnote — it’s a spotlight. God is shouting through her story: “My kingdom is for the worst of sinners. No one is too far gone.”
But human nature prefers a sanitized religion. We want grace — but we want it clean. We like testimonies of redemption — as long as they don’t sound too messy. So Rahab remains unnamed in nurseries and baby dedications, as if her past disqualifies her from our honor.
Yet God honored her without hesitation.
Heaven’s Commendation
In Hebrews 11, the great “Hall of Faith,” only two women are named: Sarah and Rahab. One, the mother of a nation; the other, a Gentile prostitute. Side by side. Why?
Because God delights in highlighting the transforming power of faith.
Rahab is not remembered for her sin — she’s remembered for her faith. Faith that risked everything. Faith that sided with the God of Israel before the battle was won. Faith that led to obedience, and obedience that led to salvation — not only for herself, but for her whole household.
James writes:
“Was not even Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she welcomed the messengers and sent them out by another route?”
— James 2:25, BSB
Not Rahab the wise. Not Rahab the loyal. Rahab the prostitute — because that’s what makes grace glorious. It finds us at our worst and gives us what we could never earn.
The Mother in the Messianic Line
Rahab didn’t just survive Jericho. She became part of God’s family — by faith and by blood. She married Salmon of the tribe of Judah. And through her came Boaz, the redeemer of Ruth. Through Boaz came Obed, and then Jesse, and then David the king.
And from David’s line came Jesus, the Son of God.
Can you imagine the weight of that? A former prostitute is the great-great-grandmother of the Messiah.
She is written into the genealogy of Christ not in spite of her story — but as a testimony of it. The gospel does not edit out the uncomfortable parts. It exalts them, because they magnify the mercy of God.
So Why Don’t We Name Our Daughters Rahab?
Maybe it’s time we do.
Not because we want to glorify her sin — far from it. But because her story glorifies God’s grace.
Because our daughters need to know that their worth doesn’t come from a flawless past, but from the redeeming love of a flawless Savior. Because the world is full of Rahabs waiting to hear that there is a God in heaven who saves sinners and rewrites names into eternity.
Because the Church needs more examples of faith that doesn’t come in tidy packages — faith that risks, faith that repents, faith that hides the messengers and hopes in mercy.
Name her Rahab — not to remember her shame, but to celebrate her faith.
A Final Word: The Same Grace Is Available Today
Maybe you read Rahab’s story and see yourself. Maybe your past is tattered, your reputation broken, your soul longing for a second chance.
Here is the good news: Jesus came for people exactly like Rahab. Exactly like you.
There is room in His kingdom for the disgraced and discarded. There is room in His family for the forgotten. There is room in His story for one more sinner-turned-saint.
And just like Rahab, you don’t have to wait until your life is cleaned up to come to Him. She believed, and He saved her. You can believe, and He will save you.
“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”
— Romans 10:13, BSB
So come.
Because the world may forget the Rahabs.
But heaven writes them in.
Learn Christ 
Leave a comment