After The Flood
When the children went to school last Wednesday, it was raining. This is Ireland. We’re used to rain. Met Éireann gave an orange weather warning, but that almost always just means a bit of gusty wind or extra rain. I barely noticed. It wasn’t until the afternoon that I realised that this time it was not just a little bit extra—it was a month’s worth of rain, in 24 hours. The ground, so green and lush and well-watered, refused to take any more. The rivers carried away what they could, but they couldn’t carry it fast enough. Their banks broke. The green fields quickly became brown lakes. Then the lakes came into the streets, and the streets became rivers. And rivers don’t knock before they come inside.
The heart of Midleton town was submerged under several feet of water. Restaurants, grocery stores, boutiques, homes. It came too fast to react. Too fast to save anything but the people. The furniture, the refrigerators, the latest fashions, the walls full of wiring, everything was destroyed. Outside, parked cars were lifted and carried away by the power of the current.
Usually, the rain is a blessing. Usually, it brings life and makes this island the shining emerald that it is. Last week, the rain was too much. It was a curse.
In Romans 8:22, the Apostle Paul writes that “the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” The whole creation, groaning in pain. That sounds about right. That is the sound of Midleton now.
This world is so full of beauty and wonder, and there are times when life can be so good in it, that we almost forget how broken it is. When the riverbanks break, we remember. The world is not right. This is not how things are supposed to be. It is a beautiful world, yes, but it is also a world groaning in pain. Paul says, “the pains of childbirth”.
Childbirth? What does he mean?
He means that the pain of this world is real, terrible, and acute—but it is not hopeless. Childbirth is painful, but it ends in the arrival of new life. And new life is exactly what Paul says lies ahead for our groaning world:
“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.” – Romans 8:19-21
We are not there yet. We feel our distance from the realisation of this hope especially at a time like this, as we groan with creation, and with those whose homes and businesses have been wrecked by it. But our groans can be more than groans of pain only—although they will be that. They can also be groans of expectation. We can trust that the God who made this world also knows how to re-make it. His patience in leaving it broken right now is a merciful patience: he is giving us every opportunity to come to him, to put our trust in him, to receive his forgiveness in Jesus Christ and enter into the “freedom and glory of the children of God.” Eventually, creation will experience the same liberation that God’s children wait for. Until then, we live in “the pains of childbirth”, waiting with creation “in eager expectation” for God’s gracious promises to be fulfilled.
Oh Lord, come quickly!
