Suffering is simply part of the human experience. No matter what you do, no matter how rich or poor, how privileged or downtrodden, people of all walks of life know intimately what it is to suffer. C.S. Lewis famously said, “I suggest to you that it is because God loves us that He gives us the gift of suffering. Pain is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world. You see, we are like blocks of stone out of which the Sculptor carves the forms of men. The blows of His chisel, which hurt us so much, are what make us perfect.” Now, to be sure, this is a difficult lesson to learn, and such perfection is certainly never attained in this life. But indeed, suffering does come from pain. Suffering is our response to it. The more pain is resisted, the more anger, hostility, and rage we feel, the more we suffer. Suffering is the internal battle against the external realities of loss and tragedy.

Yet, there is good in suffering. There is a certain necessity about it for our flourishing and joy. Both ancient and modern philosophers have pondered this reality. Today, a common topic of discussion among behavioral psychologists is about the benefits of suffering for the human psyche. Of course, all the religions of the world have, in one way or another, addressed this issue. To suffer is to learn how to confront pain. It develops resilience and strength. And for the Christian, for the child of God, suffering shakes us free from the concerns of the temporary to take in the promise of the eternal. It is a powerful tool to lift our eyes up, to remember the greater promises of our God. So, Saint Paul says, “I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” The suffering of this life, of the present time, is a cause to think of the greater glory to come. In suffering, we remember the reality of our temporary shackles.

I have seen this firsthand and am sure many of you have had similar experiences. I remember Jeane Heksell, whose movement from losing her husband, to being unable to care for herself, to moving to a hospice care facility away from her family and friends during COVID seemed like one tragedy after another. Yet, when I visited her, her insight was a blessing to me. Through her pain and grief, she would speak with increasing intensity about the joy she had in the promises of God. I remember her telling me one day how she could thank God that as she got older, more and more of her freedom and independence were being stripped away. At that point, she could no longer even get out of bed on her own, and she would tell me God had blessed her with such things so she would not hold to this age any longer than she had to. She was ready, eager even, for the future glory promised through Christ.

Or I remember Paul Doles, as he taught me by example what true dedication and love look like as his wife, Nancy, slipped further and further away, claimed by the ravages of Alzheimer’s. His care and compassion were not simply words spoken. They were lived out in the poetry of life. Sure, he had every right to be angry, to be bitter about the lost years and frustration, but he chose to embrace it as a moment to learn what it means to love, to be there in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. He did so knowing there would be a better day to come, a day of healing and hope, a day of the resurrection of all flesh, a day when he would join his bride again, and she would know him. And that heroic hope was an inspiration to many who witnessed his actions in those days.

Paul says in our text today, “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who are the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, for the redemption of our bodies.” All of creation groans. And we hear it, do we not? We hear it in the suffering all around us. We hear it in the broken realities of this age. No part of our lives seems untouched by the ramifications of sin. Sometimes it is easy to see, like every time I try to get concerned about politics. I begin by wanting to learn a bit more about the issues of the day, a desire to engage and be well-informed, but every time it devolves into ugly, shallow, passion-filled arguments full of fallacies. What begins as a desire to care for my neighbor quickly becomes a retreat into tribalism and identity politics.

At other times, the brokenness of our world may be more difficult to spot. It happens when the futility of creation seeps into the Church. We see it when our desire to be faithful and compassionate becomes a wielding of the Law by which we shame the hurting and embolden the comforted sinner. Or it occurs when we allow our own pride and arrogance to divide the body of Christ, to tear at the very fellowship He has brought together at this time and in this place. We know it ought not be this way. We know this place ought to be a powerful sanctuary of truth and love in the midst of a broken world. Yet, the struggle within calls us to seek temporal glory and momentary praise, no matter the cost.

But all this suffering, all the realities of a creation that groans, become fuel for the hope we have in Christ. As Paul says, “For in this hope we were saved. Now, hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” What we see is the suffering of this life. What we see is the broken systems of our age, but these rouse our hope. Our hope rests in the promises of Christ. They are promises made to you in the waters of Baptism, promises proclaimed into your ears every Sunday, promises you enjoy when you gather around the table of your Lord. Such promises declare that you are the children of God. You are heirs with Christ of all the blessings of the Father.

And you are not left alone in cultivating this hope. It is not a matter of your own strength and determination to remain hopeful. For the Spirit is given to you, the Spirit of the Almighty dwells within you and helps you in your weakness. In fact, Paul says that “the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” In the midst of the groanings of a fallen creation, there is a groaning that grows within you, one wrought by the Spirit of God Himself. This is the promise of the hope in which you live. It is a hope which causes you to endure through the sufferings of this age, a hope that will not fail. All glory be to God.