I know. Cosmic Groan would be a great name for a Seattle grunge-band. I used it, however, as the title of a sermon I preached at Camp Myrtlewood. Tall Douglas firs, and myrtle trees towered over the small outdoor chapel. My cement pulpit was mossy. From a perfectly blue sky, sunlight slid gently between the needles and leaves of the trees. There was no better setting for a sermon on how creation sings God’s glory.
Instead, I talked about the futility of creation and the cosmic groan of creation eagerly waiting “for the revealing of the sons of God”. Paul certainly believed creation sings of God’s “invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature” (Romans 1:20). In Romans 8, however, Paul speaks of creation being in slavery to corruption. With the fall of man, all creation fell. And according to Paul, all creation groans until the day when Christ returns, and we are redeemed body and soul.
The idea that nature isn’t perfect is unpopular. It is contrary to the gospel of Animal Planet and Disney. However, on this topic popular thinking is often entangled in several self-contradictions. The first is the assertion that even though humans are part of nature, they should stop doing what comes naturally. While rejecting “speciesism” that would value the human species more than other species, many insist humans become caretakers of creation—a responsibility we put on no other species.
Another contradiction is seen in the animal rights movement. Many argue for a cruelty-free ethic for humans while acknowledging predation and the food chain is perfectly natural and indispensable in nature. Veganism is sometimes embraced because of these ethical concerns. Yet, avoiding cruelty is not a concern found anywhere in nature where many animals are slowly eaten alive. How does one stand for animal rights on the veldt? Yet, our very discomfort with predation and cruelty might testify that Paul is right about creation being subjected to futility and in slavery to corruption.
Our longing for a different kind of nature supports the idea that creation is fallen. We often seek, in vain, to be perfectly at home in nature. As a boy, I loved the picture of Tarzan, Jane, and Boy in the old black and white movies with Johnny Weissmuller. Talking to the animals, swimming in the leech-free water, picking fruit from the nearest tree all seemed like paradise. Best of all? No school!
Throughout literature, even much modern nature writing, there is a longing for Eden. Instead, we get intestinal parasites, mosquitoes, and a multitude of biting and stinging creatures. Here in Oregon my efforts to be one with nature have often ended with huge patches of running sores where my bare arms and legs brushed poison oak. In the Midwest chiggers and ticks were a pestilence after hiking through glorious patches of prairie.
The arguments for the corruption of creation are endless, but Paul’s point is that when we groan, all creation groan with us. We do not groan alone. We groan together because so much of our life is still bound to a body that rots and rusts. In the first section of Romans 8, Paul argues gloriously for the life of the Spirit—the Spirit of God that indwells us and testifies that we are adopted. Paul declares we are heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ. Then Paul brings us back to earth by acknowledging that we are heirs if we also suffer with Christ. He says we groan for the redemption of our bodies because thus far we have only the first fruits of the Holy Spirit. This treasure and small measure of Holy Spirit dwells in earthen vessels easily broken.
The older I get the more I groan. My groaning from a sore back and knees is punctuated with snaps and pops of arthritic joints. (In the woods, I can’t sneak up on anything.) But I also groan because of grief and loss: the potential wasted, the dreams strangled in their crib. And then there is the philosophical groan over the emptiness of human ambition and the pointlessness of so much—the groan of Ecclesiastes—vanity, vanity, all is vanity.
The glory and goodness of the gospel is that even though our groans erupt from weakness they can rise to God in power. Paul declares that “the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Scholars debate whether this is the Spirit praying through us or praying for us, but it is clear that the Holy Spirit translates our groans into prayers that align with the will of God (v. 27). It gives wings to prayers and pain too deep for words,
The Holy Spirit keeps our groaning from becoming grumbling. The godward groan is not just for the mess that is, but a bone-deep cry for all to be made right. We groan because we and the world were created for something more beautiful—something eternal and incorruptible. We groan for our true home and family.
It may be too much to argue that we, creation, and the Holy Spirit groan in three-part harmony, but we know God hears us. Therefore, we hope for the day when our groan is answered by a trumpet, the hills clap their hands, and all creation rejoices to hear again the voice of the Creator blessing all the earth.
