Groaning with Hope (Romans 8:18-25)

Here’s my Easter sermon in Karis Church on April 9th, 2023. You can catch the audio here.

He is risen. He is risen indeed. He is risen. He is risen indeed. So great to see you this morning. Thank you for worshipping with us today. Today is a day of rejoicing. We’ll get to that. But first I want to ask, and it’s an odd question, I know: been doing much groaning latel

It’s likely you have - as you heard with me - yet again - about another school shooting. As this one was in Nashville, it impacted some of the musicians I follow. We’ve done a number of songs here by Sandra McCracken over the years. The shooting took place at her home church. I’ve long enjoyed Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors. Drew’s wife, Ellie, who puts out great music herself, sang at the funeral of one of the women. Her elementary school teacher was killed in the shooting.

Now a school meets here, right on our grounds. As we think about what might happen - if someone brought a gun in here. As we grieve about what happened in Nashville and seems to happen again each week, that leads too groaning. And weeping. Right? And to questions. How long, Lord? Why this again? When will things ever change?

I heard of two family members - of folks here in Karis - who were diagnosed with cancer - just this week. My wife literally groans as she gets out of bed. The meds she takes - to keep cancer at bay - wreak havoc on her bones. Why Lord? We hear about another black man being shot. About a tornado wiping out an entire town. Why Lord? When is this all going to stop? Again, been doing much groaning lately?

Well, today, I’m going to argue that you should. But we don’t have to despair. That’s because of the encouragement here in verse 18. Hear it again: “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

There is so much hope in those words there. And what I want you to hear - more than anything today - is that the hope comes in Jesus and His resurrection. Now we’ll come back to that verse soon, but first, I want you to hear a couple of important truths from the rest of the passage.

Groaning Amidst Suffering

Here’s the first truth I want you to hear this morning: we should groan amidst the sufferings of this world. In fact, if you don’t find yourself groaning, lamenting all this pain, something’s probably wrong. A few years back, when my mother died, I spent more time around a funeral home than I was used to. And I remember the funeral director saying these words: “This is a natural thing. It’s just a part of life.” No. I want you to hear this morning: it’s not. This is not the way things are supposed to be. Suffering and sin  and death are very unnatural.

That’s why Jesus, at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, had such a strong emotional reaction. He wept, John 11 tells us, in verse 35. And just before that, in verse 33, John says that he was “deeply moved” - which really doesn’t get to the meaning that well. Jesus was angry standing at the tomb of His friend. No, all of this isn’t natural at all. It should make us sad. It should make us mad.

Look at verse 20. Paul writes, “For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope.” Now to understand what the apostle is talking about, we have to go back to the beginning of the story of God - where God made the garden and put Adam and Eve in it to rule under Him. Everything was perfect. But that first couple wanted to rule over it their own way, independent of God. And the fall happened. And God cursed what He had made.

Do you remember Genesis 3? Where God says, as a result of their sin, there would now be “pain in childbearing?” Where He says the “ground” would from then on be “cursed?” That we’d fight “thorns and thistles” in the dust of the earth, and then we’d return to that dust ourselves? That’s what Paul talks about when he says the “creation was subjected to futility.” “Not willingly,” he clarifies. It wasn’t the earth’s fault; it was all on Adam and Eve. But God judged what He had made. He subjected His creation to “bondage to corruption,” says verse 21. But there’s good news there, too. He did it “in hope,” Paul says, in verse 20. We’ll get there soon.

But first, hear this. This isn’t the way things were meant to be. And because of that, there’s a response that is fitting. And again, it’s groaning. Not putting on a fake smile. But letting the tears flow. I now have a son who’s almost 20! But back when he was born, I had some different expectations, you could say, for the birthing process. My Amy didn’t receive an epidural. I kept trying to touch my wife, rub her arms, put my arm around her - while she was giving birth. And she kept brushing them away. She wasn’t having it. Afterwards, I expressed how I was really mushy from the experience, and I was hoping we’d embrace a little more. And Amy looked at me, and said, “Are you nuts? I thought I was dying, Kevin.” I guess she was in some pain. You think?

Here, Paul says the creation is “longing” in verse 19. And to “be set free” it says in verse 21. And in that longing for freedom, His creation is “groaning.” “Groaning together,” it says in verse 22, “in the pains of childbirth.” So God tells us here. His creation is like a mom in tons of pain, longing for it all to be over, groaning over the pain she’s enduring. To use another picture, think of all of nature, in harmony - the birds, the trees, the mountains, the streams - crying out in song - not one of praise, but of lament - for freedom from this curse it’s all under.

But, we, too, join in that song. But we’re leading the melody, while creation sings in the background. Listen to verse 23 again: “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly.” If we’re believers, we have the Holy Spirit in our lives. He’s already at work in us. But even still, we, too, want to be set free. Released completely from our bondage to sin and death. Liberated from all of this sickness and suffering. No more cancer or abuse. Or kids hiding under their desks. I couldn’t look at Amy, giving birth to our kids, and say, “Why you carrying on like that, babe? Is it that bad? Should a Christian act like that?” No. Not if I want to live! Longing for freedom. Groaning for that day. It’s right. Because so much we see is wrong.

Waiting for Glory

But here is the second main thing I want you to grasp: we should do that in hope, waiting for glory. We should long for something better, for life as it was intended. Now it doesn’t mean that things here are as bad as they could be. No. There are so many blessings, so many signs of grace all around. The King has come to earth. His Kingdom is here and now. But the reality is that not all recognize His reign. His will is not done fully - as it is done in heaven.

Our communion with God has been disrupted. Our communion with those around us has been broken. Our communion with the rest of His creation has been messed up. Our enemy has sway over all God has made. The world tugs at us, trying to lead us astray. And our sinful hearts, our flesh, is all too willing to be dragged back into the mud. Around us - inside us - we still see sin and death. And we’ll be battling that sin until death finally overtakes us.

Therefore, we look ahead to the redemption of all things. We long for all of His creation to be restored. We groan along with it all, “waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” (2 Pet. 3:13) - where “death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4). We wait for His kingdom to come - with justice and peace.

We also long, we groan, for our bodies to be restored. Not just for the resurrection of all things - but the resurrection of this thing. Not to be set free from our body, but to see it resurrected. That’s what Paul is pointing to in verse 23. “We wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

If we’ve come to know Jesus, or rather, He has come to know us, we’re made His sons - His daughters. We’re adopted. Brought into His family. But that reality will be made known - it will be showcased - when Jesus returns, and He makes us new. Either right then and there, if we’re still alive. Or after we’ve been brought out of the grave. Our bodies will be restored, made perfect, like His. This is the promise we await - here as we groan.

We, human beings, children of God, will be center stage on that last day. All creation will be watching, on tip-toe, knowing that our day of renewal will also be its day. Isn’t that what verse 19 is saying? “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.” Fallen creation, verse 21 says, will obtain the “freedom of the glory of the children of God.”

So, first, we should groan amidst the sufferings of this world. And second, we should do this in hope, waiting for glory. But I want to talk a minute about what we mean by hope. And where it is we place that hope.

When we talk about hope today, we say things like: “I sure hope Mizzou beats Princeton.” It’s wishful thinking. And obviously, that didn’t work out well. But when the Bible talks about hope, it’s talking about an “anchor of the soul” that’s attached to something sure, to something steadfast. What Hebrews says. Something we can count on. That won’t disappoint.

But what we so often do - right? - in this fallen world is despair. We don’t anchor ourselves at all. And we drift further and further away and further and further down. We lose all hope. As Robert Cheong says in his books, we have this choice. We can look up into the sky, and we can just see the cloud cover. That becomes our reference point. Our sufferings. And that leads to despair. We have to look for the sun, even when it’s hard to see. And make Christ our reference point. And hope in Him.

But His return won’t come overnight. We’ll have to “wait.” Verses 24 and 25 say that is what hope’s all about. Waiting. While groaning. But while enduring.   

But what’s the ground of our hope, friends? Jesus is alive! He has defeated sin and death. He’s won victory over the grave. He has a renewed, resurrected body Himself. And He’s making all things new. One day, He’ll return and start with us. Our bodies will be remade. And He’ll move on and restore His creation. That’s our future, church. There’s great hope in that. But there’s even more.

Life in Him has already come. Right now. If we trust in Jesus, our souls are made alive. Abundant, eternal spiritual life is started in us. We can be made new. We don’t have to be captive to Satan, sin, and death. Not anymore. We can have freedom, as His sons and daughters today. Even as our bodies break down, our hearts can be renewed, little by little until that day when Jesus returns. So, in suffering, will you hope? As you groan? Or will you despair? Will you look ahead to redemption? Will you hope in glory? We can keep going in suffering, because we know that Jesus is alive. And He’s making all things new.

Three Questions on Hope in Pain

I want to wrap up by asking three questions as a way to help us apply what we’ve seen here in Romans today. First, where will you place your hope? As I said earlier, Jesus is the King, who’s bringing His kingdom, where peace and justice, where life and love, will reign. But it’s so easy for us to trust in the rulers and governments of this world. And they will always disappoint. It’s easy for us to think that more education, or the right policies, or maybe lower taxes, or better programs, or whatever it could be, will usher in this utopia we think we want.

But it’s also so easy for us to deal with our groaning through fantasy instead. We stream a movie or scroll on TikTok. We absorb ourselves in our team. Or immerse ourselves in a hobby. Maybe we search for something we can buy. We block all the pain out. But it really won’t go away. Friend, don’t bury your head in the sand. Look out the window. Look in the mirror. Sin and suffering are everywhere. Groan. Don’t ignore it. But let that turn into hope. In the resurrected Christ. And what He’ll come to do.

Second, how will you process this pain? We can easily get hung up on the “why” of this fallen world. And not let ourselves get past the groaning. Amy and I had two more kids after our first. It’s common, when a baby is born, that a mother will hold the baby, and, if not then, certainly later, say to her husband, “Let’s do it again.” It was all worth it.

We can look around in this world and get hung up on the questions. God, are you not strong enough to do something about it? Or are you not good enough, to make it all go away? Why, Lord? What’s your problem? And lash out. But even if we don’t understand His reasons, couldn’t we say - if God is real, and He’s a big as we think - that He still might have some - for where He’s taking all things, and why this pain even exists?

Could it be something like childbirth - where what we receive in the end makes all the pain worthwhile? Maybe He’ll explain it to us someday - in that new heaven and new earth. But could it be possible - that resurrection life is that much greater, that much more beautiful? At least viewed from the end? Maybe He is making all things new - and better even. He’s God, after all!

But I also want to challenge you with this. This life is tough. And the groaning will overwhelm. You do have to explain it all some way. Maybe you say, there is no God. And we’re all left to randomness and chance. That there’s no purpose to the pain. That’s a sad place to be. The road to despair. Look to Jesus, friend.

Third, what difference will it make? Back a number of years ago, a California truck driver named Larry Walters strapped over 40 helium-filled weather balloons to a lawn chair and got ready for a ride. He expected to go up maybe a hundred feet or so, but to his surprise, he found himself 16,000 feet in the air. He had the presence of mind to take a pellet gun with him on his flight, so he proceeded to shoot out some of the balloons to slow down his ascent. But then as he started to descend too quickly, he had to take a counter measure - and drain some water from jugs tied to his chair. Eventually, he got caught on a power line and knocked out electricity for thousands. When he was lowered to the ground, and a reporter asked for a reason for his stunt, he replied, “A man just can’t sit around.”

Karis, I fear this is so often what the world thinks of Christians. We’re ready for heaven. So we forget the world. And we do everything we can to fly up to the sky. But that of course, misunderstands how God’s story ends. How does God’s word describe the end of the world - or really its new beginning? “And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Rev. 21:2). Heaven is coming to earth, church. That’s the future of His creation. And it’s where the redeemed of God will forever live. So until that comes, NO! - a man - or woman - can’t just sit around.

Now one criticism I keep hearing - in the wake of this shooting - is that “thoughts and prayers” just aren’t enough. It’s a slam thrown at Christians. And while prayer must come first - and we can’t give up that, I don’t think it’s completely undeserved. Now I’m not going to give my thoughts on protecting schools. Or how to bring gun violence here under control. But I will say that if heaven is coming to earth, if that’s in our future, we need to do all we can to bring that into the here and now. To not just sit here. But do something.

We have to live “future-back,” as Tim Keller likes to say. If, as Stott says, “the Christian hope is not the immortality of the soul…but the resurrection of the body.” If our future is to live in our world here - that is completely restored. Then our tendency shouldn’t be to try to fly away, but rather dive in. To roll up our sleeves and seek after redemption.

I love this quote from N.T. Wright:

“What you do in the Lord is not in vain. You are not oiling the wheels of a machine that’s about to roll over a cliff. You are not restoring a great painting that’s shortly going to be thrown on the fire. You are not planting roses in a garden that’s about to be dug up for a building site. You are—strange though it may seem, almost as hard to believe as the resurrection itself—accomplishing something that will become in due course part of God’s new world. Every act of love, gratitude, and kindness; every work of art or music inspired by the love of God and delight in the beauty of his creation; every minute spent teaching a severely handicapped child to read or to walk; every act of care and nurture, of comfort and support, for one’s fellow human beings and for that matter one’s fellow nonhuman creatures; and of course every prayer, all Spirit-led teaching, every deed that spreads the gospel, builds up the church, embraces and embodies holiness rather than corruption, and makes the name of Jesus honored in the world—all of this will find its way, through the resurrecting power of God, into the new creation that God will one day make.” (N.T. Wright)

What a privilege - to be a part of building something so amazing. But, I have to say, if it all came from nowhere - and it’s gonna soon be nothing - what could your motivation be - to pursue any change? Hope in the Creator - who is also the Redeemer. Who is risen!

Friends, where will you place your hope? How will you process this pain? What difference will it make?

There’s Truly No Comparison

Now, let’s go back to verse 18 once again. “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Do you catch what Paul is saying here? Recently, someone I follow posted a photo of a waterfall. I am pretty sure it was Victoria Falls. And he or she said something along the lines of this: “After seeing these falls, I had to apologize to them for making such a big deal of Niagara.” You see, there was really no comparison between the two. That’s what Paul’s trying to communicate here. Except it’s more like he’s comparing Victoria to that little waterfall over at Stephens Lake.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Can you hear that? That trickle of suffering, pouring over into your life, into all of ours. It can’t be compared to the glory, to the rushing, roaring falls of His redemption - that will overtake us and pull us under one day. And those sufferings - they’re only a part of “this present time.”

But this glory - that’s coming to us - will last forever and ever. There are great depths of groaning in this life here on earth. But they won’t begin to compare to the heights of rejoicing. We groan now. But one day, with all creation, we’ll praise. As Tim Keller puts it, “We are told in the new heavens and new earth that the trees and hills will be able to clap and dance. If they will be able to do that, picture what you and I will be able to do.”

I mentioned singer/songwriter Sandra McCracken at the beginning of this sermon. Last week, she wrote these words in Christianity Today.

“I see this redemptive work going on right now. Nashville is a music hub—a harmony city. It has been thrown into dissonance, but God is weaving that dissonance back into harmony. Even as our hearts break, we can sing of his truth and beauty. We can sing in light of his death and resurrection. And we can grieve with hope…

As our community goes through loss, we grasp and groan. We each grieve differently. Healing is messy and slow-going. But love is patient. The Holy Spirit is our helper. And we rest on the character of God. That means we don’t have to force our theology into words or pontificate on this tragedy, as if our best political or theological solutions might add something to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Yes, we have to engage in restorative work. But we’re also called to simply rest in Jesus’ promise that death will not have the final word.” (Sandra McCracken)

Friends, let us hope and not despair. Jesus is alive. He’s making all things new. Let’s pray.