In the early 1980's, Annie and I worked with Operation Mobilization, on the ship Logos. We joined the ship in Sri Lanka, then traveled up the west coast of India, then to Pakistan and Dubai, and then into the Red Sea, visiting Sudan and Jordan. In each port, we sold books (both Christian and secular) and had conferences for local Christians on various subjects. In some of these countries our programs were restricted, but we were at least able to minister to local churches, and in most places we had evangelistic programs as well.
The Middle East was difficult. We were in Dubai and Sudan during Ramadan, and the local people were grouchy and impatient, because they couldn't eat during the day. In Jordan, we had a large book exhibition in the capital city of Amman and sold lots of books, but it was a tense, difficult time. We always had the sense of being watched, and one of the political officials was determined to coerce us into giving him as many free books as possible. By the time we left Jordan, many of us were exhausted and fed up with the Middle East.
From Jordan, we sailed through the Suez Canal and into Alexandria, Egypt, to begin our scheduled program there. But as soon as we lowered the gangway, armed guards boarded the ship and wouldn't let anyone leave. The next day, we were sent out to anchor while the line-up team talked to officials, trying to find out what was happening. All the necessary permissions had been obtained well in advance, and local churches were looking forward to the visit. We sat at anchor for a week, within sight of the city but unable to reenter the port. The line-up team finally learned that the Islamic Brotherhood had made terroristic threats against the ship, and that the Egyptian government was unwilling to take the risk of letting us carry on in the light of these threats.
During that week, while we sat at anchor, we had days of prayer and fasting, asking God to reopen this door that had closed. Some of the ship people were really enthusiastic, rebuking Satan and claiming victory, perfectly assured that God would reverse the Egyptian government's position so that we could carry on our program there. But some of us were so fed up with the Middle East that we didn't want to go back into port. We didn't really care that the program in Alexandria had been canceled. We were happy to go somewhere else and found it impossible to pray fervently for the doors to reopen. We were emotionally and spiritually drained. But none of us–those who were claiming victory or we who were cynically pleased for a temporary reprieve from the tensions of ministry in the Islamic world–had any idea what God was going to do. Our ministry–carefully planned and prepared in advance–had come to a stop, and it soon became apparent that God had something else in mind.
After a week, we sailed to Cyprus, and then to Lebanon, just north of Beirut, where God had miraculously opened a door. A week before our arrival in Lebanon, a ship had been sunk at the very place where Logos sat at anchor, and it wouldn't have been safe for us to be there. A week after we left, the president had been assassinated and conditions in the country deteriorated. This was probably the only week during that decade when we could have visited. But God provided, in a surprising way, this brief period, during which we were able to openly and boldly proclaim the gospel.
Christianity is not just a system of ideas or a code of morality. We have to do with the Living God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. The Christian life is not primarily about what we do for God. It's about what God is doing. This is exciting, but it can also be unsettling, because He will often lay aside our plans and programs because He has something better in mind. We usually have very definite ideas about what He should be doing, but He doesn't consult with us. He doesn't submit to our careful planning. Following Him is unsettling, because we are not in control.
When we arrived in Lebanon, we were startled by the peoples' outlook on life. They had no sense of hope for the future. They had been living constantly in the presence of violence and death, and they had come to expect the worst. They were amazed, they told us, that someone had been willing to come from the outside world to minister to them, and they spent money like people who had no thought of the future. They were intent on grasping any joy they could find in the present, because they had no assurance that they would still be alive the next week.
The lives of the people in Jerusalem when Jesus was born were similar, in many ways, to the lives of these people in Lebanon. They lived under foreign occupation, ruled by people who didn't understand or sympathize with their religious practices. There had been repeated attempts to seize power from the Romans, but these had been crushed mercilessly. The Roman governors maintained order, so things didn't become chaotic like they were in Lebanon. But the people of Israel hated being ruled by an idolatrous nation, and violence and death were a regular part of their lives, especially the lives of the poorer people (which those in Luke 2 seem to have been).
The thing that stands out when we read this passage in Luke 2, is that these people were full of hope. They were waiting in anticipation on this One who would come to deliver them. Many things had happened over the past centuries to crush their hope. There had been a brief time, under the Maccabeans, when it looked like they had won their independence as a nation again. But it didn't last long, and soon they had once again been conquered. From time to time, their conquerors had committed atrocities in Jerusalem. During this period, Roman rule was very strong and rebellion was crushed immediately.
But the people in Luke 2 are full of hope. Their experience of violence and death and poverty, and the failures of the nation to achieve independence, had not crushed their hopes for the future. They stand out from the people we met in Lebanon, who were intent on grasping whatever joy they could in the present. But they also stand out from some other groups who lived in Palestine during this time. There was a group called the Zealots, who opposed paying taxes to a pagan emperor, and who placed their hopes for the future in armed revolt. The Zealots believed God would enable them to overthrow the idolatrous people who were ruling them, and they actively looked for ways to carry out their mission.
Simeon and Anna, and the others at the Temple on that day, didn't put their hopes in armed rebellion against the Romans. Barclay describes them as the "Quiet in the Land." "They had no dreams of violence and of power and of armies with banners; they believed in a life of constant prayer and quiet watchfulness until God should come. All their lives they waited quietly and patiently upon God" (p. 21). They were full of hope, not because of their own abilities and plans. They were full of hope because they knew God and they trusted Him to intervene and come to their rescue. They weren't just religiously going through the motions of worship; they weren't just following a system of theology or morality. They knew that they were dealing with the living God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. Because they knew God, their lives were marked by a sense of expectation and anticipation.
Look, first of all, at Luke's description of Simeon in these verses. He "was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him." He was seeking to live in a right relationship with God, submitting himself to God's lordship. That's the general idea behind the words "righteous and devout." J.B. Phillips translates: "He was an upright man, devoted to the service of God." He made it his aim to live in obedience to God's Word. But the Pharisees also sought to do this. Their aim in life was to be obedient to the Law, but there was something lacking in their spirituality. They were proud of their obedience, and they looked down on everyone else. They were so obsessed with their own accomplishments that they weren't attentive to God.
Simeon was obedient, but he didn't celebrate his own obedience. His focus was on God, not on himself. He was "a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel" (The Message). He didn't spend his life looking at himself, saying "Lord, I thank you that I'm not like other people." He lived in anticipation of God's faithfulness to His promises. He was attentive to God. The Holy Spirit was upon him, and he'd been given this special revelation that he would not die until he had seen the Lord's Christ. Why would God give him a promise like that? He doesn't seem to have been a religious leader. This is the only time we encounter him in Scripture. We know nothing about his accomplishments. But he was a man who walked with God for a lifetime, "righteous and devout.... waiting for the consolation of Israel." As he walked with God, praying for the good of the nation, God spoke to him and gave him this special promise. Because he was walking with God, he was attentive to God's leading and went into the Temple at just the right time and because the Holy Spirit was upon him, he recognized the child for who he was, when all the leaders of the nation were oblivious. The most important event in the history of the Temple was taking place, and all those who spent their lives ministering in the Temple missed it completely. But Simeon recognized what was happening, because he walked with God and lived in anticipation of His promises.
When Simeon saw the baby, he took him in his arms and praised God. In verse 29, he says that he is now ready to die: "Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace." The fulfillment of God's promise means that his life here on earth is nearly over. But this doesn't seem to bother him. He's ready to die. His whole life is caught up in what God is doing for His people. He's engrossed in something much bigger than himself, and his life–even in the face of death–overflows with praise and wonder.
In verses 30 & 31, he elaborates: "For my eyes have seen your salvation." We don't know much about Simeon, whether or not he had family members still living, what sorts of things he enjoyed doing, whether he had any unfinished projects. There may have been things he still wanted to accomplish, or people he wanted to spend more time with. But at this point in his life the central thing, the thing that mattered more than anything else, was God and His purposes. Having seen God's salvation, he was ready to let go of everything else. Simeon's emphasis here is not on the great things he's been able to accomplish for God's glory. He's lived a long life and has been faithful; he has a vibrant, lively relationship with God. It seems safe to assume that he's been a blessing to many people over the years. But that's not the thing in focus here. The thing that stands out is his realization of what God is doing. And God is doing something greater than anyone ever could have anticipated. This little child before them is: "a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."
Simeon's hope for the future is firmly rooted in the past, and it's strongly tied to the community of God's people. It's important for us to take note of this, because our culture is highly individualistic and thinks the past is irrelevant. Christopher Lasch, in The Culture of Narcissism, said: "A denial of the past, superficially progressive and optimistic, proves on closer analysis to embody the despair of a society that cannot face the future" (p. 26). An autonomous individual, with no strong ties to community, and also cut off from the past, can only live for the present. What Lasch observes about our society is also true for individuals. "A denial of the past... proves... to embody the despair of a [person who] cannot face the future." I believe part of the explanation for the superficiality in much of American Christianity is that we've been infected by the excessive individualism of our culture. Too much of our focus is on "Jesus and me," with no sense of being involved in a community that includes all those who call on the name of Jesus Christ, both on earth and in heaven. We've also accepted our culture's opinion about the past and have lost the sense of our great heritage as part of a body that stretches back to the beginning of time. Our picture of the Church is too small, and our worship and prayer are impoverished. Simeon had a strong hope for the future. He'd spent his life "waiting for the consolation of Israel." But his hope was tied to the community of God's people–it was "the consolation of Israel" that he was looking for–and his hope was firmly rooted in God's promises, given hundreds of years before. It wasn't just "what God is doing for me." It was "God is fulfilling His promise to His people, and He's graciously included me."
While all this is going on, Anna approaches them, and she also immediately recognizes what is happening. These aren't the only other people in the Temple. There would have been priests there, carrying on their regular ministry. Joseph and Mary would have dealt with the priests in making offerings to fulfill the requirements of the Law. These were people whose whole life revolved around the Temple and the Law, but we don't hear anything about them. The One who is the fulfillment of the whole Old Testament sacrificial system is present. And the priests–all of them–miss the whole thing. And what is even more remarkable, given the status of women at that time–one of the two people who recognizes what is happening at that moment is a woman.
Anna was a widow whose life revolved around worship and prayer. She may have been 84-years-old, as most translations render verse 37, or she may have been a widow for 84 years, making her over 100. In any case, she had been widowed while she was still a young woman. Life for widows was difficult in that culture. But she hadn't grown bitter over the years. Suffering can affect us in two different ways. It can make us bitter and resentful, closed in upon ourselves. Or it can open us up to God with a strong sense of need. The difficulties that Anna had faced early in her life drew her closer to God. Rather than diminishing over the years (as happens when we become bitter), she was known to others as a prophetess, a woman who knew God and spoke in His name. And when this great moment took place, she was attentive to the Spirit and recognized what was happening, even though all the leaders of the nation and Temple were oblivious.
Anna did two things when she came up to them. She gave thanks to God. She was like Simeon. She recognized that the most important thing going on at that moment was not all the great schemes of the political and religious leaders. The most important thing going on was God's work of redemption. She expected Him to fulfill His promises, and she was waiting with anticipation. So the first thing she did was to give thanks to Him for the great things He was doing. The other thing she did was speak about what she saw: she "spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem." Notice how these people are described. They're not just people who believe and do the right things. They're people who are waiting expectantly for God's intervention in the lives of His people.
All this happened a long time ago in a completely different culture. What difference does it make for us? Simeon stresses, in his words to Mary in verses 34 & 35, the importance of our response to this child who was being presented in the Temple on that day: "This child will be rejected by many in Israel, and it will be their undoing. But he will be the greatest joy to many others. Thus, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed" (NLT). Those who reject Him do so to their own undoing. Our eternal well-being is tied to the question of how we respond to Jesus Christ. So where are you in relation to Him? Are you submitting to His lordship? Have you given up all hope of saving yourself, of pleasing God through your own efforts? Have you committed your life to Him and cried out to Him for mercy, and are you seeking each day to live in ways that are pleasing to Him? Does the thought of seeing Jesus face to face fill you with joy, or dread? Where are you in relation to Him?
This brief Christmas season is a gift, an opportunity to remember that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, that God appeared in our world as a man. Set aside time to spend in His presence, and cultivate an expectant attitude in worship. We're not just going through the motions when we worship Him. We have to do with the Living God, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. Be attentive to what He is doing. We never know when He is going to intervene in an extraordinary way. When that happens, may He find us waiting expectantly.
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