Simeon's Song

A Christmas Reflection

Luke 2:22-28 is about hope, the hope the Messiah brings. But here that hope lands in two directions: toward the poor (vv. 22–24) and toward the old (vv. 25–38). Before we look at them, we need to define hope. In everyday speech, hope sounds like wishful thinking. “I hope we see them,” meaning we probably won’t. Scripture doesn’t use the word that way. Biblically, hope is a sure confidence about a future event. It’s expectation with emotional weight. That’s where anticipation comes in. Anticipation isn’t just the mind looking ahead; it’s the heart tightening and leaning forward.

Think of movie jump-scares. Turn the volume off and nothing happens. The music builds the tension. When the monster appears, you actually feel a strange sense of relief because the emotional pressure pops. Or take a groom waiting for his bride. Each bridesmaid builds anticipation until the music changes, and she appears, hair, dress, everything perfect. His eyes fill. His heart swells. Anticipation fulfilled.

That’s the relationship between hope and longing in Proverbs 13:12: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” Charles Bridges put it well: hope begins sweet but carries its own ache, and when it drags too long it becomes a kind of torture. If the bride never came down that aisle, the groom would move from dread to despair. Hope can break. But God never breaks His word. He’s always on time. So hope in Him is never misplaced.

That’s what’s happening in this passage: a longing fulfilled. Christ is the hope of ages. And at the center of this scene is a poor couple holding Hope Himself in their arms.

Mary and Joseph were poor financially, but rich in devotion. Joseph was righteous… steady, principled, no drama. When he learned Mary was pregnant, he planned to leave quietly. No explosions, no revenge. Then the angel intervened, and Joseph obeyed immediately and completely. Mary was the same. When told she would bear the Son of God, she simply answered, “I am the servant of the Lord.” No hesitation. Her Magnificat pours with joy, not resentment or fear. Both were rare: humble, righteous, willing.

Their poverty comes out clearly in the offering they bring. According to the law, the normal sacrifice was a lamb, but the law made provision for the poor: two pigeons. That’s what Mary and Joseph bring. They were poor, and Jesus was born into their poverty. God likes to work through humility.

Scripture consistently shows God’s special concern for the poor, not because poverty is holier than wealth, but because poverty often (not always) produces humility. Poor people know need. They’re vulnerable. They can’t pretend to be self-sufficient. That posture, acknowledging limits and need, is what God prizes.

Scripture says the same thing from the opposite direction about wealth. Wealth isn’t evil, but it breeds arrogance if you’re not watchful. Ezekiel rebukes the king of Tyre because his wealth “made his heart proud.” The Psalms warn against making riches a refuge. They collapse like a rotten house. Paul tells the wealthy not to be haughty or trust in “uncertain riches.”

And riches are uncertain. They rise and fall. Ask anyone who lived through the 2008 crash. Ask anyone who bought some sketchy altcoin from a guy promising the moon. Wealth is no foundation. God alone is. So whether you have much or little, stay humble.

Christ Himself embraced poverty. He was born to poor parents in a humble village in a conquered nation. He proclaimed good news to the poor because He came as one of them. But He didn’t remain poor or remain a baby. One of the ways we mess up Christmas is by becoming sentimental about “baby Jesus,” as if He still lives in a manger. No, He is exalted. He owns everything. He is humble, and therefore His name is above every name.

Even His early obedience depended on His parents. Babies cannot keep the law, but Joseph and Mary could. They fulfilled the purification rites and circumcision requirements for Him. God works through parents, including flawed ones, to shape children. Joseph and Mary weren’t perfect, but they were faithful. That’s a word of comfort to every parent here: God uses imperfect people.

Their obedience brings them to Simeon, an old man described almost exactly like them: righteous, devout, and full of the Holy Spirit. He was “waiting for the consolation of Israel.” Consolation here means comfort. Israel had been waiting through centuries of silence and foreign rule. Simeon had received a promise: he would not die until he saw the Messiah. And on this day, moved by the Spirit, he walks into the temple just as Joseph and Mary arrive.

God orchestrates the mundane and the miraculous together. Joseph and Mary simply obey the law. Simeon obeys a prompting. And the promise is fulfilled.

He takes the child in his arms and sings that he can now “depart in peace.” He calls Jesus God’s salvation, a light for the Gentiles, and glory for Israel. The early church called Simeon “the God-receiver.” What a title. He literally held the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham, 2,000 years in the making.

But Simeon also gives Mary a hard word: a sword will pierce her soul. She would suffer as she watched her Son suffer. Anticipation isn’t only sweet; it can be painful.

Then comes Anna, an aged widow who had spent decades in the temple fasting and praying. At 84, she finally sees the Redeemer of Jerusalem. She gives thanks and spreads the word to all who were waiting. Hope fulfilled.

There’s something moving about promises fulfilled at the end of a long life. I think of Moses glimpsing the promised land. Or men working faithfully for decades, then standing near the finish line and seeing God begin to do what they prayed for. They don’t get to finish the work, but they get to see its dawn.

Some promises you won’t see fully in your lifetime. I think about wanting a large, faithful family gathered around Christ for generations. I can’t build all that myself. But God keeps His promises to those who raise their children in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Our job is to bear the tension of anticipation with steady hope.

Everything about Christ’s coming signals humility. Born low. Announced to the lowly. Received by the old. Surrounded by the devout poor. And His humility leads to His exaltation. Philippians 2 pulls it all together: He emptied Himself, took the form of a servant, died on a cross, and therefore God highly exalted Him. Every knee will bow. Every tongue will confess. The only question is whether we bow willingly like Mary, Joseph, Simeon, and Anna, or stiffen our necks like the proud.

Pride is the fountainhead of sin. Humility is the doorway to grace. And the poor in spirit receive the kingdom.

You may have little in this life. Riches fly away. Youth fades. But if you have Christ, you have the tree of life. You have hope fulfilled.

Merry Christmas.