In a stunning move that hasn’t been seen in over a century, King Charles III stripped his brother of the title “Prince” on October 30, 2025. Andrew, the Duke of York—or rather, the man formerly known as such—will now be called simply Andrew Mountbatten Windsor. The last time a British prince or princess lost their royal title was in 1919.

The reason? Years of controversy over Andrew’s friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein, culminating in the posthumous publication of Virginia Giuffre’s memoir detailing allegations of sexual abuse when she was a teenager. Andrew has consistently denied the allegations, but the damage to the monarchy’s reputation proved too much. He paid Giuffre millions in an out-of-court settlement in 2022, stepped back from royal duties years ago, and now loses even the title he held from birth.

For sixty-five years, Andrew’s identity was woven into his royal status. He was born a prince, the son of Queen Elizabeth II. It was his birthright, part of his very name, the lens through which the world saw him and through which he likely saw himself. And then, in a single statement from Buckingham Palace, it was gone.

The Illusion of Inherited Identity

Andrew’s story raises an uncomfortable question: What happens when the identity you’ve built your entire life upon is stripped away? When the title that defined you, the status you never earned but simply inherited, disappears?

The world is full of inherited identities. Some are as obvious as royal titles. Others are more subtle: the family name that opens doors, the generational wealth that provides opportunities, the legacy admission to an elite university, the ethnic or cultural heritage that grants automatic belonging in certain circles. These aren’t necessarily bad things in themselves, but they share a common characteristic—they’re given, not earned. They’re about who we are by birth, not who we’ve become by choice and character.

The problem with inherited identity is that it’s fragile. It can be lost. It can be taken away. And when it is, we’re left facing a terrifying question: Who am I without it?

The Gospel’s Answer to Identity

The Christian gospel speaks directly into this fear. It offers a radically different foundation for identity—one that’s both more secure and more humbling than anything we inherit or achieve.

Paul writes to the Galatians: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). This isn’t saying these distinctions don’t exist or don’t matter in certain contexts. Rather, it’s declaring that when it comes to our fundamental identity before God, none of these inherited categories define us.

Your family name doesn’t matter. Your social status doesn’t matter. Your ethnic heritage, your generational wealth, your prestigious connections—none of it secures your standing before God. The ground at the foot of the cross is level.

But here’s where the gospel becomes both comforting and confronting: If inherited privilege doesn’t earn God’s favor, neither do inherited disadvantages disqualify us. The person born into poverty has the same access to God as the one born into a palace. The refugee has the same invitation as the citizen. The person with a shameful family history stands on equal footing with the one who can trace their lineage back to nobility.

A New Kind of Birthright

Christianity does speak of birthright, but it’s a birthright that comes through adoption, not biology. “Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God” (John 1:12-13).

Paul writes to the Ephesians about this stunning reality: God “chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 1:4-5). Before the world began, before any human title existed, before any royal family drew its first breath, God chose to adopt us as His children.

This is the identity that cannot be stripped away. Not by scandal. Not by failure. Not by changing circumstances or public opinion. Not by kings or governments or even our own repeated mistakes.

When Andrew lost his title, he lost something that had defined him for sixty-five years. But it’s worth noting what he couldn’t lose: his humanity, his capacity for redemption, his need for grace. These remain, regardless of what Buckingham Palace declares.

The gospel offers an identity that’s simultaneously more humbling and more secure than being born a prince. It’s more humbling because it requires acknowledging we have no claim on God’s favor—no birthright, no achievement, no status gives us the right to stand before Him. We come empty-handed, as spiritual beggars.

But it’s more secure because once received, this identity cannot be revoked. “Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). No palace statement. No public scandal. No stripping of titles. Nothing.

Living Without the Crown

Andrew now faces the challenge of living as simply Andrew Mountbatten Windsor. He must discover—perhaps for the first time in his life—who he is without the title, without the privileges, without the automatic respect that comes with being called “Your Royal Highness.”

This is, in a sense, what Jesus calls all of us to do. “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me,” He said (Mark 8:34). The self we must deny often includes the inherited identities we’ve clung to, the titles and statuses and privileges we’ve used to define ourselves.

This isn’t because these things are evil in themselves. It’s because they’re insufficient. They’re not strong enough to bear the weight of human identity. They crack under pressure. They can be lost. And even when they remain intact, they never quite satisfy the deep human need to know who we really are.

The Christian life begins when we stop trying to secure our identity through what we inherit or achieve and instead receive our identity as a gift from God. Paul describes the transformation this way: “You were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked… But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (Ephesians 2:1, 4-5).

We become His children not because we deserve it, but because He chooses to adopt us. We’re given a new name not because of our royal bloodline, but because of Christ’s sacrifice.

And here’s the beautiful irony: This identity that requires us to come as beggars is the one that ultimately makes us royalty. “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession” (1 Peter 2:9). Peter is writing to believers scattered throughout Asia Minor—people with no earthly titles, no political power, no inherited status. Yet he calls them royal. The title of “child of God” surpasses any earthly title. The inheritance we receive as His children makes any palace look like a cottage.

Paul prays for the Ephesians “that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19). This is what Andrew—and every person on earth—needs most: not the restoration of earthly titles, but to comprehend the vast, unsurpassable love of Christ.

Andrew Mountbatten Windsor has lost his princely status. But like every other human being on earth, he still has the opportunity to receive an identity that can never be stripped away—the identity of a redeemed child of God. That’s an identity not given by birth or earned by achievement, but received by grace. And it’s the only identity that will last into eternity.

To learn more about our secure identity in Christ, explore our ongoing blog series on Paul’s letter to the Ephesians: “Living Out Our Identity in Christ.”

Questions for Reflection

1. What inherited identities (family name, wealth, ethnicity, connections) have you relied on to define yourself or give you security?
2. Read Ephesians 1:3-14. What does it mean that God chose you “before the foundation of the world” and predestined you for adoption? How does this truth challenge or reshape your understanding of identity?
3. How does the gospel’s teaching that “there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free” (Galatians 3:28) challenge or comfort you in your current life circumstances?
4. In what ways are you tempted to base your identity on achievement rather than on God’s grace? How does Ephesians 2:8-10 address this temptation?
5. What would it look like practically to live out of your identity as a child of God rather than from the titles or statuses the world gives you?
6. How might understanding your secure identity in Christ free you to take risks in serving others or admitting failures?

Prayer Points

• Pray for Andrew and all those affected by the Epstein scandal, that they would find true healing and redemption.
• Ask God to reveal the false identities you’ve been clinging to and to help you rest more fully in your identity as His child.
• Pray for those who feel disqualified from God’s love because of their lack of inherited privilege or their past mistakes.
• Thank God for the security of an identity that can never be stripped away.
• Ask for wisdom to hold worldly titles and statuses with an open hand, neither despising them nor depending on them.