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Today's reading
December 10, 2025
Romans 8:18-20,22
As we stroll through the garden of Eden in the pages of Scripture, it is difficult to square the intentional world, blanketed in peace, with the world we wake in. There is certainly a resemblance, and hints of former glory — you can see it in the perceptible order and grandeur all around us. However, this world paces like a caged animal, manically thrashing about, leaving devastation in its wake through disaster and famine.
This world has suffered; it has become collateral damage in the disobedience of the ones it was meant to sustain. It has been trodden by armies, it has tasted the blood of taken life, and it has seen the toll of exploitation and marginalization throughout man’s history. It has convulsed, destroying itself and its passengers.
But it has also endured, waiting for some beacon of hope, some intervention that would bring restoration.
In the midst of this chaos, the One whom angels sang, and the earth had been waiting for, arrived in Bethlehem.
Jesus, the Son of God, lived out perfection on a dying rock, gave His life as a payment for dead humanity, and then rose again to prepare a new heaven and earth — leaving all of creation holding its breath, waiting for glory while surviving in a world of hurt.
Each day the tension of this deferment of hope intensifies. Paul describes it this way:
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God.”
Romans 8:18–19 (NKJV)
Paul’s words shake the dust off our assumptions.
Creation is not a silent stage on which the human drama plays out.
It is a participant — a wounded witness — longing for the same redemption we crave.
The scholar Susan Eastman describes creation here as-
“all humanity and the natural order bound together in groaning hope.”
This binding happened at creation but also at the fall. Paul writes:
“For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly…”
Romans 8:20a (NKJV)
In Eden, humanity was crowned as creation’s steward. When we fell, the world bent under the weight of our collapse.
Thorns grew where peace once thrived.
Decay crept where harmony once rang.
Futility wrapped itself around both humanity and the earth like creeping vines leaving both gasping for air.
Paul helps us understand this spiritual reality writing:
“For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.”
Romans 8:22 (NKJV)
Nature groans like a woman in labor — not the groaning of a deathbed,
but the groaning of something about to be born.
As it labors, nature worships between whimpers, praises through pain, sings through clenched teeth. Creation subtly smiles as it winces, amidst convulsions watching the horizon in hope.
Waiting.
For what?
For the return of the King it once hosted, and the revealing of the sons and daughters of God.
In strange irony, the earth’s only hope for redemption is the redemption of the people who villainized it at the fall.
Eastman puts it this way:
“The full redemption of the world is impossible apart from the full redemption of God’s children.”
This is why Advent matters so deeply.
The manger was the first sign that God had not abandoned His world.
The empty tomb was the fatal strike to the enemies of all creation.
The Spirit of God was the down payment on all of creations new destiny
So together we wait.
Together we ache.
Together we endure
And every longing — every fracture — every sigh —
is a reminder that something beautiful is on the way.
Not just for us.
Not just for our souls.
But for everything God has made.
Creation groans — but not in despair.
We groan — but not without hope.
Because Christ has come, and glory is on the way.