Read Luke 2:33-35
THE PROPHETIC VISIONS splintered through Simeon’s mind in a fraction of a second as a teenage girl and young man walked up the temple steps with their child. The images of what had been and would come, contained within this bundle coming to meet him.
War and rumors of war.
Peace and a marriage feast.A scrap of linen swaddling cloth.
Linen temple drapes torn in half.The groans of a Jewish girl laboring in a stable.
The tear-stained cheeks of a mother kneeling at a cross.
Each image pointed to the completion of the promise he’d waited for his whole life: a Messiah who would usher in a world turned upside down on itself, a world where the meek were strong and the rich became poor. He might have laughed at the irony of the sight before him. A tiny baby with the strength to snuff out death, and an impoverished couple witnessing the greatest coronation in history. This is the blessing Simeon would give the God-child as his calloused hands held the infant: the blessing of paradox, for he will be the rise and fall of many Israelites.
Luke doesn’t write much about Simeon beyond describing him as a “righteous and devout man” (v. 25). We aren’t given the detailed story of the day Simeon met Jesus, and the gaps leave ripe room for imagining what Simeon experienced during those long-awaited moments. What did it feel like to wait all those years? Was he ever tempted to speed up the process, to look for the Savior another way?
As we peer through Simeon’s ancient eyes, we realize that the promise of Advent is both slow and mysterious. It requires both waiting and wondering. Personally, I’m not very good at slowness. I tend to sprint through Advent with the rest of the world, dutifully ticking away the days on my December calendar; hurry through the mysterious and confusing bits; get to the candlelit “Silent Night” and festive presents. I rush though as if the less I think about the grit of Bethlehem, the more I can enjoy the twinkling lights and Christmas trees and gingerbread houses. My impatience is a way to resist the lingering questions.
But then I remember Simeon. Simeon waited. And waited. Along with many of the other prophets in the Bible, Simeon dwelled in the paradox of Advent for years. Unlike me with my chocolate calendar, Simeon didn’t have the luxury of a countdown or the ease of knowing how the story would end. He just got comfortable with the one thing he knew: God would fulfill what he had promised.
We, like Simeon, are waiting in the afternoon shadows of the in-between between Jesus’ saving work on the cross and the ultimate redemption of his second coming. The scandal of the Christmas story is that it flips our vision of the world upside down and gives us a new way of seeing. In doing so, it demands that we surrender our tendency to rush and to rationalize. How would the Christmas story change for us if we allowed ourselves to be wrapped up in the radical profundity of it all—of a child that causes both “falling and rising” (v.34)? Of divinity intermingled with the gritty, ordinary chaos of humanity? If we paused long enough, what pains, questions, and promises would bubble up to the surface? Advent offers us the gentle invitation to model Simeon’s posture, waiting patiently, pondering, and wondering.
Lily Journey is a nonprofit professional, poetry enthusiast, event creative, and writer.
This article is part of A Time for Wonder, a 4-week devotional to help individuals, small groups, and families journey through the 2024 Advent season. Learn more about this special issue that can be used Advent, or any time of year at http://orderct.com/advent.
