Romans 8:22-27
We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes[b] for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
When I read this passage, one powerful question rises in my heart: What does it mean to hope in a world that is constantly groaning with pain?
Paul writes that all creation is groaning as in labor—longing for healing, redemption, and peace. This feels painfully real to me today. I think of the war in Gaza and Israel, the people of Ukraine still under siege, and the families in Sudan and Congo displaced by violence and hunger. I think of the children buried under rubble after earthquakes, the rising oceans swallowing homes, and the wildfires consuming forests and towns. Creation is indeed groaning. And so are we.
Paul’s audience in ancient Rome also knew suffering. They were a diverse group of early Christians living under the shadow of empire, persecution, and deep social divisions. Paul didn’t offer them an escape, but something greater: hope. Not hope in what is seen and fixed, but hope in what is still coming. And in the waiting, we’re not alone—the Spirit of God groans with us, praying for us when we don’t have the words.
That’s what moves me most. Sometimes I see the news and I don’t know how to pray. Sometimes I look at my own struggles—loss, confusion, injustice—and I have no words. But the Spirit does. The Spirit prays in ways deeper than language. That gives me comfort. I’m not abandoned in my weakness. None of us are.
This passage calls me—and all of us, no matter where we come from or what culture we belong to—to endure with hope. It’s a hope that doesn’t deny pain, but walks through it with faith. So today I pray: “Spirit, pray in me. Help me hold on. Help me believe that even in the groaning, new life is being born.”
Wilson, Chalice staff, Canada