Day Eleven

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know
what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us
with groans that words cannot express.” (Rom. 8:26)

Scripture Reading: Romans 8:19–27

These verses are about groanings. Three kinds, in fact. First, creation groans for the return of Christ and His saints. Subject to the frustration of being created by Him and for Him, yet absent from Him, all creation longs to be liberated from its innate corrosion and made new in the presence of its Creator.

Second, we groan inwardly as we eagerly await our adoption. Those of us in Christ recognize this groaning whether or not we’ve ever identified it. When did you last feel weary of the pain of this world? Perhaps not your sufferings, but another’s? Hungry children on the other side of the world. Hospitals filled with the dying. Violence and hatred. We groan. We just don’t recognize the source of the ache—to be safe and sound in our new home, nestled in the down comforter of Christ’s love. We are no longer orphaned. Yet neither are we home. As pleasant as our foster homes here on earth may be, we never cease to be startled by the world’s meanness. Our groanings bring voice to feelings we often can’t identify: “Rescue us, O Savior!”

The passage identifies a third type of groaning—the groaning of the Spirit of God as He intercedes for us. Sometimes we can better discern the meaning of a Scripture passage by identifying what it clearly does not mean. Romans 8:26 does not say the Holy Spirit will intercede for us when we are too busy to pray, too angry to pray, too involved in ministry to pray, or too disappointed in God to pray. The passage says the Spirit intercedes for us when we are too weak to know how to pray. He intercedes not because we simply don’t pray—but when we don’t know how to pray.

Imagine this poignant scene. The child of God musters her last bit of strength to collapse before the throne of God. Words do not come—just groanings. They are not her groanings, though they emerge from so deep within, she thinks they are hers. The Spirit of God searches her heart, gathers her pain, and lifts it to the Father of all comfort. The Spirit of God, knowing both the depth of her agony and the will of the Father, can bring forth glory from even this. He insists that the Father usher overflowing comfort. He urges the child to let the Father have His way. He prays for things she could not bear to pray—that she lacks the courage to pray. He prays for glory.

How long does the child lay before God’s throne? Until strength comes. Until she identifies the heart of the Spirit’s intercession for her and can make it her own. Perhaps this is one of life’s finest hours for the believer—when the will of the Father and the will of the child converge as one—and the cloudy pillar of God’s glory settles on her shoulders like a down comforter. And for just a moment, heaven comes to earth.