All the attacks of the enemy are conquered by the love of Christ. They hate; He loves. They attack; He rescues. They curse; He comforts. It’s so easy for us to engage the power politics of our nation and seek to change laws, policies, and regulations, and we should do so. But what truly transforms a society is the love of Christ entering the heart of one sinner at a time. Jesus has loved us; now we must love the world.
One of the simplest things we can do with our kids is play connect-the-dots to help them draw pictures. As they trace one dot to the next, they see connections ending in a picture. We’ve been tracing the dots in Romans 8 so that we can see the big picture of assurance. We’ve traced verses 1–17 to see the Christological and pneumatological aspects of our assurance—that we’re in Christ and in the Holy Spirit for justification and sanctification. With verses 18–39 we connect more dots to see the fuller picture: the eschatological (ultimate) aspect of our assurance or what Paul calls glorification. Let me exposit and apply Paul’s proclamation of assurance as a future-looking reality.
Suffering and Glory (Rom. 8:18)
Our Present Sufferings. Paul speaks of “the sufferings of this present time,” not “the suffering.” He’s speaking of “the time” between Jesus’ resurrection and return. In the “present time” we experience “the sufferings” of persecution at the hands of the world and the devil. “Rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed” (1 Peter 4:13). Ministers experience “the sufferings” of being “jars of clay . . . afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; stuck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor. 4:7–9). Added to these are all “the sufferings” we experience because Adam’s sin caused the world to be a fallen place: women’s suffering in childbirth and men’s suffering agony in the course of their work (Gen. 3:16–19). “The suffering” of a fallen world include hunger and loneliness, illness and disease, and the sorrow of death.
Our Future Glory. In contrast, Paul speaks of “the glory that is to be revealed to us.” He’s just said in Romans 8:17 that we’re united to Christ in His suffering and glory. What Jesus experienced as Son we, too, will experience as sons. Think of kids playing with modeling clay or Play-Doh. How do they know how to transform it into a whale, a tiger, or a person? They either have a picture in their minds or in front of them. Jesus is that picture, we’re the clay, and God is the molder. One day, the ultimate experience of fellowship with God will be “revealed” when He glorifies and “transform[s] our lowly bod[ies] to be like his glorious body” (Phil. 3:21). When Paul “consider[s] the[se] sufferings” in light of “glory,” he says they “are not worth comparing.” Our sufferings are earthly; God’s glory is eternal. Our sufferings are temporal; God’s glory is eternal. “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17). Our sufferings are as light on a scale as a feather compared to an elephant, are as insignificant as a dot compared to extending lines with arrows on a number line.
Groaning For Glory (Rom. 8:19–27)
Creation’s Groan (Rom. 8:19–22). Paul illustrates that this age’s sufferings aren’t worth comparing with glory “because the creation waits with eager longing” (Rom. 8:19). The image is of someone lifting up their head, longing to see something on the horizon, as one might climb a hill in the morning to see the sunrise. What does creation long to see? “The revealing of the sons of God.” All creation waits for us to enter glorious, face-to-face fellowship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Why is creation groaning? “For” or “because the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it” (Rom. 8:20). Something happened to change creation: it became “subjected to futility,” reflecting Genesis 3, where God cursed the ground to produce “thorns and thistles.” Creation no longer lives up to its promise. It’s become “vanity, vanity” (Eccl. 1:2). Everything seems pointless, meaningless, and futile. We know the frustration of not living up to our potential, but this is frustration on a cosmic scale. The creation was “subjected . . . not willingly” but passively; the active cause was “him who subjected it”: God.
He isn’t the author of futility, but He executed His curse because of Adam’s sin. Creation’s subjection is not God’s fault. Like a parent who makes terrible choices stunting the emotional, social, and spiritual growth of their children, so with Adam and all human beings who descend from him by ordinary generation. God, though, didn’t place a curse on creation for cursing’s sake; He did so “in hope” (Rom. 8:20). God placed in the DNA of creation itself this hope: “that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Rom. 8:21). Bondage now, freedom then; corruption now, renewal then; futility now, glory then. Paul summarizes in verse 22: “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.” Paul switches the image and says creation is like an expectant mother in labor pains (Gen. 3:16). The pain is serious, but it will soon pass.
Paul isn’t adopting pagan mythology of “mother earth.” He’s personifying creation with human characteristics. Why? To encourage we who eagerly longing for sufferings to end so that we can enter glory face-to-face. Be encouraged; we’re not alone in longing for the renewal of creation. Everything around you is too. Every couple of months I go out into the front yard to trim my Phoenix robelinii. I find them an astounding example of hope and patience. I’m constantly cutting off branches, cleaning up dead ones, and removing messy flowers. But I hardly water or fertilize them. Yet, they’re taller and more lush than before, as if they are patiently enduring my neglect. What’s amazing is how the trees hidden under the shade of my neighbor’s roof and nestled in the back of my planter have grown toward the sun. Entire trunks contorting. Branches from one tree stretching out over those closer to the sunlight. All in the hope of light. In a similar way, creation is waiting for its renewal, patiently yet earnestly groaning for restoration.
Yet, we groan “we . . . groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons” because there’s something we don’t have: “the redemption of our bodies.” Our “inheritance” is something we still have to “acquire possession” of (Eph. 1:14). Have you ever had a sample of something that tasted so amazing that you just had to have more of it? There’s a certain cut of beef in Brazil called picanha that I long to taste again. The look, the smell, and the taste are part of me; I just can’t get it out of my mind. Similarly, we’ve tasted eternity in the Spirit, but we long for His fullness. This leads to tension. Like a big rubber band that’s pulled two ways, becoming tighter, we’re pulled toward this age with sufferings but to the age to come with the Holy Spirit. Paul characterizes this tension in terms of hope: “for in this hope we were saved” (Rom. 8:24). What’s “this”? “The redemption of our bodies.” Look at how Paul explains hope: “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?” (Rom. 8:24). Earthly hope is for things you can see, touch, smell, taste, and hear. There’s another kind of hope: the things of the world to come that are fixed and satisfying. Why is the Christian hope better than any other? Why would I give up what I can experience now for what I have to wait for? Because our future hope is based in past reality. The hope we have of putting off mortality and entering glory in new bodies is based on the resurrection of Jesus’ body. Hope leads to patience, “but if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” (Rom. 8:25). Jesus is the best example of this: “For the joy that was set before him [He] endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12:1–2).
The Spirit’s Groan (Rom. 8:26–27). The Spirit is also groaning: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness” (Rom. 8:26). Why? “For” or “because we do not know what to pray for as we ought” (Rom. 8:26). As those made alive by Him to be God’s children, we “ought” to know how, when, and why to pray. Because of our ongoing struggle with sin, Paul particularly singles out “our weakness of not know[ing] what to pray for as we ought.”
Isn’t it usually the case that every large problem starts small? Like an avalanche starting as a small falling rock—the avalanche didn’t just happen. It’s the same with us in prayer. Some selfish decision or sinful attitude of ours gets in the way and clouds our minds to think clearly about our spiritual needs. Then, all the cares of the world get in the way causing us to be too busy even to utter word in prayer. Feelings of guilt creep in, making us sink further into depression. What’s so encouraging is the Spirit’s assistance: “but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us.” Listen to the affection of His groan. “The Spirit helps.” He’s no impersonal voice on your GPS or iPhone—“helps” speaks of His being sympathetic with our weakness, taking our burdens on Himself. How does He do this? He “intercedes for us with groanings” or sighs “too deep for words.” They’re beyond words or even without words. God’s people have been groaning for millennia; yet while we groan, not even knowing the right words to pray for the actual needs of our soul, God the Holy Spirit groans “for us.”
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