The center of Paul’s monumental letter to the Romans has some of the most beloved lines in the Bible:
These are wonderful assurances. Could it be, however, that we have somehow missed the point? In his book Into the Heart of Romans, Tom Wright suggests we have.
These assurances are not, as is commonly thought, about going to heaven. Heaven is never mentioned in the chapter. Rather they concern our current state here on earth—where we have a God-given mission to undertake.
Wright is at pains to say repeatedly, “Assurance of salvation is indeed based, throughout Romans, on the sovereign love of God poured out in the death of his son. But this passage, Romans 8:18-30,” as he explains in persuasive fashion, “is speaking about the vocation of the saved community, the calling to implement the already-accomplished work of Jesus, the Messiah within, and for the benefit of the wider world of all creation . . . . Salvation is not simply God’s gift to his people, it is God’s gift through his people—to the wider world” (pp. 161, 163).
Much of the traditional interpretation is based on misunderstanding glory as meaning heaven (as in “gone to glory”). “The primary meanings of ‘glory’ in this passage are simultaneously, the glorious presence of God himself dwelling within us by the spirit and the wise, healing, reconciling rule of God’s people over the whole creation. . . . In the Hebrew scriptures, ‘glory’ regularly comes to refer specifically to rule and power” (pp. 110, 120; emphasis original).
If we are to engage in the task that God delegated to us in Genesis 1:28 of being stewards of the earth, how are we to do that? That is what the “strange” verses in Romans 8:26-27 are about.
Paul’s comment about the Spirit helping us in our weakness and interceding “for us through wordless groans” is not some odd tangent. This is our vocation as Christians that we can carry out with full assurance that none can prevent. For when we don’t know how to pray, the Spirit takes up our groans into the Triune God.
I find it boggling that when we groan for the sins and suffering and troubles of the world, it is not only an expression of sorrow. God is joining us, right there, as part of his own redeeming work.
I think of when my prayers seemed to be intense expressions of agony, and even anger at God. Does God hear? Does he care? Astonishingly, Paul is saying that these moments when I am at my lowest are in fact transformed by the Spirit into moments of grace for the sake of others.
“God is working,” as Wright says about God’s loved ones, “with these praying-in-the-dark people for the wider good of this world. . . precisely at the point where they are at the end of their mental, emotional and spiritual tether, [where they] find within themselves the deep sorrow of all the world, as it were concentrated into one place, and find at that moment that they are part of the dialogue of love between the father and the spirit. This, [Paul] says, is what we are called to do and be. . . . These verses, I suggest, explain and contextualize the present work of lament which anticipates the future promised work of the redemption of all creation” (pp. 135, 137).
I find that profoundly reassuring.
In fact, when the King James Version was originally typeset and published, each verse began its own paragraph. And that is still the way it is printed!
Because the New Testament writers were people steeped in the Old Testament, that’s where they often drew ideas, motifs, and references to understand this surprising Jesus who was not the military Messiah they expected. The language of “passing by” recalls the story in Exodus 32–33 when Moses asked God to see his glory. God says, “When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by” (Exodus 33:22, my emphasis).
First, Paul introduces this section on husbands and wives with, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” Submission for Paul is mutual, not just something a wife offers her husband. 
Years ago my wife Phyllis felt stunted in her spiritual life by the church we were in. I took that seriously, even though I liked the church. I liked the people. I liked the music. I liked the preaching. It was great for me. After many months of discussion and prayer, however, we were not able to resolve the issue. Then I remembered that Ephesians 5 meant that my wife’s spiritual well-being came before mine. I had to die. So I told her, “It’s up to you. If you want us to go to a different church, we will. I want what’s best for you.”
Take what Paul says in his letter to the Galatians, for example. It’s a well-known verse often referenced in these discussions. “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28). This comes in the middle of a letter that is about making sure Gentiles are treated as full members in the body of Christ, not as second-class Christians. Law shouldn’t divide us, Paul says. Rather grace should unite us.
Paul’s passionate argument in Galatians calls on all of us to seriously ask questions such as, “How can we all proactively do more? What can we do to make sure that the women in our congregation are growing in Christ, learning more of his grace, growing in their love for God and others? Are there practical changes we can implement that will aid and encourage all groups (but especially those who may be sidelined, because that is Paul’s point) to more fully use their gifts for the building up of the body of Christ? How can we make sure the talents, experiences, and opinions of women are appreciated, that their dignity as people in the image of Christ is affirmed? In this context, how can we look to the interests of others first rather than our own (Phil 2:3-4)?”