Groaning

Romans 8:18-23

18 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.19 For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God.

20 For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope,

21 Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. 

22 For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. 

23 And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

More and more, I'm becoming increasingly impatient to just get on with it, to be done with it--with this world, with this life.

How is life in this fallen world not just one long, pointless exercise? We work because our stomachs demand it (Ecclesiastes 6:7, 2 Thess. 3:10). We come home. We sleep. We awaken, and the cycle--the daily grind--begins again. Seriously, what is the point of any of this?!

This, of course, is not what God intended when He created humans upon this earth. God created us to enjoy Him and to enjoy each other. But we humans screwed it all up:

17 And unto Adam he said, Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life;

18 Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field;

19 In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. - Genesis 3: 17-19

God told Adam that in sorrow he would toil and eat of the ground all the days of his life, until he died. Yep, that just about sums up this life.

The Connecticut shooting wasn't the beginning and it won't be the end or the turning point. The world is going to become darker and darker. Things are only going to get worse. I just want this to be over. I'm just waiting for the final curtain call.

Don't worry--I'm not suicidal or anything, just tired. Tired of the all the death, the darkness, the suffering, the ungodliness, the fighting, the hatred. Tired of this world. I just want this to be over with.

I understand what Job meant:

11 Why died I not from the womb? why did I not give up the ghost when I came out of the belly?

12 Why did the knees prevent me? or why the breasts that I should suck?

13 For now should I have lain still and been quiet, I should have slept: then had I been at rest,

14 With kings and counsellors of the earth, which build desolate places for themselves;

15 Or with princes that had gold, who filled their houses with silver:

16 Or as an hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants which never saw light.

17 There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at rest.

18 There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor.

19 The small and great are there; and the servant is free from his master.

20 Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul;

21 Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures;

22 Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the grave?

23 Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in? (Job 3:11-23).

All over the Bible, the saints groan, wanting to be done with this world. Saints are strangers and pilgrims here (Heb. 11:13; 1 Pet. 2:11). We don't belong here. That's why living here often feels so unnatural.

It's no surprise the Bible ends with the hauntingly beautiful words, "He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus." (Revelation 22:20).

Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices. - Song of Solomon 8:14