Austin's Blog

I had never truly “groaned” until I buried a child. To groan is to audibly or inaudibly sigh deeply within yourself over the weight of sorrow, pain, and heartache. Every bereaved parent knows this kind of groaning. It is the ache that words cannot fully express and the longing that settles deep within the soul. Yet Romans 8 teaches us something remarkable: grieving parents are not the only ones who groan. Paul describes three groanings—the groaning of creation, the groaning of believers, and even the groaning of the Holy Spirit.

First, all creation groans (Romans 8:19–22). Paul writes, “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.” Ever since sin entered the world through Adam’s sin, death, disease, decay, and disaster have become unwelcome realities. The death of a child feels profoundly wrong because it is profoundly wrong. It is heinous, ugly, and downright disgusting. We instinctively know children were never meant to die. Every cemetery, every hospital, every storm, and every disease reminds us that creation is still waiting for redemption. But Paul does not compare creation’s groaning to the hopelessness of a funeral. He compares it to the pains of childbirth. Labor hurts because something wonderful is about to arrive. Likewise, creation’s groaning is filled with expectation. God has promised a new heavens and a new earth where death will be no more (Rev. 21:1-7).

Second, we ourselves groan (Romans 8:23–25). Paul notes, “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” We groan because we miss our children. We groan because birthdays come and go, empty chairs remain empty, and life continues while our hearts long for reunion. Yet our hope is not merely that we will one day go to Heaven. Paul says we eagerly await “the redemption of our bodies.” Christianity is built upon the promise of resurrection. One day our children in Christ will be raised bodily and we too will receive glorified bodies. That promise transforms grief. Our hope is not wishful thinking or optimism; it rests upon the finished work of Christ and His empty tomb. The longest chapter with our children is not behind us—it is still ahead of us.

Finally, the Holy Spirit groans (Romans 8:26–30). Again, Paul writes, “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” There are seasons when bereaved parents simply do not know what or how to pray. Tears replace sentences. Silence replaces petitions. Exhaustion replaces eloquence. Yet in those moments, we are not abandoned. The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words, praying perfectly according to the will of God. When we don’t know what to pray or the only words me can muster up are help, we can rest in the fact that the Spirit is groaning in prayer perfectly on our behalf.

Romans 8 begins with suffering but ends with comfort. Creation groans toward renewal. We groan toward resurrection. The Spirit groans toward the fulfillment of God’s perfect will. Every groan is moving in the same direction: glory. One day our faith will become sight, our waiting will end, and our tears will be wiped away forever. In the meantime, we live with hopeful hearts that ache. We grieve because we love deeply. Yet, we grieve as those who know Christ has conquered death. The groaning is real, but it is temporary. Resurrection is forever. Until then, let us keep groaning towards glory.