In the fifth century, a man named Simeon the Stylite wanted nothing more than to be close to God. The world around him felt noisy, sinful, and corrupt, so he did something extreme. He climbed a pillar.
At first, it was only ten feet high. Then twenty. Eventually, fifty feet. And for thirty years, he lived on top of that pillar alone, exposed to the elements, praying and fasting in solitude.
His goal was simple: get as close to God as possible, and as far from the world as possible.
It sounds strange, but I understand the impulse.
Because when the world feels heavy - when the news is bad, when people hurt us, when our hearts grow tired - it’s tempting to withdraw. To climb our own pillars. To tune it all out and protect our peace.
We all do it in different ways. Some of us withdraw; keeping our heads down because caring too much just hurts. Some of us numb ourselves; scrolling, binge-watching, distracting our minds so we don’t have to feel. Some of us retreat spiritually; pulling away from the world in the name of holiness.
But deep down, we know hiding won’t heal anything. We long for peace, but we also long for purpose. We want to be close to God, but God keeps calling us closer to people.
Creation Groans
Paul writes in Romans 8:22–23, “The whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves… groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption, the redemption of our bodies.”
Paul says creation groans and we groan with it. The world aches for renewal, and we feel that ache deep in our bones.
When we lament, when we bring our grief, frustration, and longing to God, we are joining that groaning. We’re not escaping the world’s pain; we’re entering into it with hope.
Lament is not despair. It’s faith that refuses to look away. It’s standing in the darkness while trusting that the sunrise is coming.
Paul continues, “For in this hope we were saved… if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”
Hope is what keeps lament from becoming despair. We don’t have what we long for yet, but we trust that one day, God will make all things new.
The Spirit Groans With Us
Here’s the good news: we don’t groan alone.
“The Spirit helps us in our weakness… the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
Even when our words fail, when our prayers feel empty or stuck in our throats, the Spirit prays for us.
God doesn’t stand at a distance while we struggle. He enters into our pain. He takes our sighs, our tears, our confusion and turns them into prayer.
That means our groaning is not wasted. It’s sacred. Our silence can still speak. Our weakness is met by the Spirit’s strength.
Joining God in the Groaning
So how do we live this out?
The world groans. We groan. And the Spirit groans with us.
That’s not despair. It’s holy participation. It’s the sound of hope in motion. And one day, that groaning will give way to glory.
Grace and peace,
Pastor Zac
Questions to Ponder