Untitled Sermon

Introduction

Recap of last week:

Last week, we camped out in Romans 8:13–17. We saw the Spirit’s role in making us sons of God:

The Spirit makes us kill sin – we saw that apart from Him, sin kills us, but by Him, we put sin to death.

The Spirit makes us children – no longer slaves to fear, but adopted sons and daughters who cry “Abba, Father.”

The Spirit makes us heirs – if we are children, then heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ.

But Paul didn’t stop there. He added a hard truth: “provided we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him” (8:17). In other words, the Spirit makes us sons who kill sin, who cry out to our Father, who share in Christ’s inheritance—but also sons who suffer.

That leaves us with a natural tension: if being a child of God includes suffering, how can we endure it? Where is the hope when life feels unbearably heavy?

It’s the 4th week of college football season. And you know this: before a team ever lifts a championship trophy, they go through months of struggle. Think about August practices—players out there in 95-degree heat, running drills until they’re gasping for air, coaches in their face pushing them harder, legs burning, muscles aching. Some days they wonder if it’s even worth it. And then the season comes injuries pile up, they lose games they should have won, fans are grumbling. It feels like endless pain and frustration. But they keep pressing forward. Why? Because they know what’s at the end: the chance at glory. Nobody wants the two-a-day practices, nobody wants to run stadium steps, nobody wants the bruises but every champion will tell you, the suffering was worth it when the confetti fell and they held that trophy.

Or think of Marvel’s Infinity War and Endgame. In Infinity War, the unthinkable happens the heroes lose. Half the universe is dusted. You feel the despair, the groaning, the sense that maybe evil really has won. And yet when you get to Endgame, the joy of the victory is so much greater because of the depth of that loss. If you skipped Infinity War and went straight to Endgame, you’d miss the weight of it. The pain, the struggle, the defeat it all sets the stage for glory.

And that’s exactly what Paul is saying in Romans 8:18–30. Yes, the sufferings of this present time are real—they hurt, they break us down, they make us groan. But those groanings are not meaningless. They are the labor pains of new creation. They are setting the stage for a glory so weighty, so overwhelming, that one day we will look back and say, “It was worth it.”

Read Romans 8:18–30 “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 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 have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 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. 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. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.”

Don’t Let the Pain Fool You (vs 18-25)

Thomas Brooks, the old Puritan preacher, once said: “Look, as our greatest good comes through the sufferings of Christ, so God’s greatest glory that He hath from His saints comes through their sufferings.”

That’s exactly what Paul is laying out in these verses. Suffering isn’t meaningless. Suffering isn’t wasted. Don’t let the pain fool you God uses it to magnify His glory and to point us to the glory that’s coming.

Paul says in v.18: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

“I consider” (logizomai) = this is Paul’s math. Put all your suffering on one side, all the glory on the other, and the scale tips so hard to glory that suffering doesn’t even register.

Paul’s not denying pain. He’s teaching us how to weigh it. Stack all the cancer, betrayal, grief, loss, disappointment, persecution on one side. Put the glory of being raised with Christ on the other. The scale crashes toward glory every time.

Creation groans under futility (vv. 19–22). We groan as we wait for redemption (v. 23). And hope holds us steady (vv. 24–25).

Everyone suffers. Christian or not, nobody escapes pain. But how we suffer is what sets us apart.

The world suffers with despair — because for them, pain is final. They numb it, deny it, drown it, or rage against it. But they can’t redeem it. Christians suffer with hope. Not because pain is smaller, but because glory is bigger. We know groaning is labor pains, not death pains. We know the empty tomb means our story doesn’t end in the grave.

This is a witness. When the world sees a Christian suffer with faith, patience, and hope, it preaches louder than a thousand sermons. It shows them the gospel is real.

How you handle suffering reveals where you are spiritually. If your faith only works when life is easy, it’s shallow. But when suffering comes and you keep clinging to Christ, that shows maturity.

Suffering is like a fire it burns away the surface-level stuff and exposes what’s really there. Do you still trust God when the pain doesn’t make sense? Do you still worship when it costs you?

James 1:2–4 echoes this: “Count it all joy… when you meet trials… for the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” Spiritual maturity is forged in the furnace of suffering.

This is where Charles Spurgeon’s words hit home: “I have learned to kiss the waves that throw me against the Rock of Ages.”. The world feels the waves and curses them. But Christians learn, by grace, to say, “If these waves crash me against Jesus, then let them come.”

Suffering exposes that the world is cursed, and it exposes our weakness. Left to ourselves, we suffer no differently than the world bitter, hopeless, angry. The Law shows us our natural state: broken and empty.

But Christ suffered for us and with us. His perfect obedience under suffering secures our hope. And now, because of the Spirit, we can suffer differently. We suffer as children who cry “Abba, Father,” not as slaves who despair. Our suffering becomes a testimony that God is real, Christ is alive, and glory is coming.

Jesus didn’t avoid suffering. He embraced it. He obeyed perfectly in suffering — every hunger pang, every temptation, every betrayal, every nail.

His active obedience gives meaning to our pain. He sanctifies our suffering, turning it into a pathway to glory instead of a pit of despair.

Don’t let the pain fool you into thinking God is absent.

Don’t let the pain fool you into suffering like the world suffers with bitterness and hopelessness.

Let your suffering be a witness. The way you endure trial is preaching a sermon to your spouse, your kids, your coworkers, your neighbors. They’ll see whether Christ is real by how you hold on in the storm.