The Gospel Illuminates, Pierces, and Advances

Introduction There was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. He had held fast to the prophetic theology of Isaiah all his life. He was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel — and the Holy Ghost was upon him. The Spirit had revealed to him that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. And on that very day, the Spirit led him into the temple. The infant Jesus was being brought in — Joseph and Mary had come to do for the child after the custom of the law. Simeon took the child up in his arms. And in that moment, praise and prophecy poured from his lips. Luke then introduces a second person: Anna, an aged widow. She occupied the lowest place in that society. Luke places these two figures side by side to show us something deliberate — the gospel that is proclaimed through the highest theological authority is also carried forward through the lips of the lowest and most forgotten. Through both of them, Luke shows us what the gospel does. The gospel illuminates. It pierces. And it advances. Point 1 — The Gospel Illuminates (Luke 2:29–32) "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." (Luke 2:29–30) Simeon speaks with the child in his arms, addressing God directly. "Have seen" — the Greek eidon is an aorist, a completed action. It is finished. It is done. Isaiah had declared: "All flesh shall see the salvation of God." That was future. For centuries Israel had been waiting, looking toward that promise. And now, on Simeon's lips, the future has become present. "Shall see" becomes "have seen." Isaiah's prophecy finds its completion in this child. So who is this salvation for? Simeon declares: "A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel." Light — the Greek phos. In Isaiah 42 and 49, God had said: "I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles." That light has now come in person, in this child. The light moves toward two peoples — and it works differently in each. For the Gentiles: apokalypsin — revelation, unveiling. The Gentiles had been in darkness. They did not know God. For them, this light is the first disclosure of God Himself. For Israel: doxan — glory. Israel had lived within the covenant promises, waiting through long centuries. For them, this light is the long-awaited promise finally kept. The same light. But to those who sat in darkness it becomes illumination, and to those who waited in promise it becomes glory. The light of the gospel is not exclusive. One gospel, one child — illuminating two worlds at once. Point 2 — The Gospel Pierces (Luke 2:34–35) "Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Luke 2:35) The moment the canticle ends, the scene shifts. Simeon turns to bless the parents. But the content of his blessing is unexpected. The language of glory gives way to the language of suffering. Luke has placed these two scenes together deliberately. The full face of the gospel is not only light. Simeon says: "Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel." Set — the Greek keitai. God has appointed this child for this very purpose. This is not circumstance. It is divine ordination. And before Him, there is no neutral ground. One falls or one rises. The same child is a stumbling block for some and a rising stone for others. Then the word to Mary: "Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also." Sword — the Greek romphaia. Not an ordinary dagger. A large, broad blade. In the Old Testament this word was used of the sword of divine judgment. That sword will pass through Mary's own soul. Even the mother of the Messiah is not exempt. Before the gospel, no one stands outside. Simeon states the purpose: "that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." Thoughts of hearts — the Greek dialogismoi. Not merely opinions. Throughout Luke's Gospel this word consistently points to hidden resistance, concealed pride, the self-righteousness that has not yet been exposed. The gospel brings these things to light. He is a mirror before He is a comfort. But He exposes in order to raise up, not to cast away. Those who refuse what is exposed will fall. Those who receive what is exposed will rise. The falling is not the end. It is the path to the rising. The sword of the gospel does not conclude in condemnation. But Luke does not stop here. The moment Simeon's prophecy ends, he immediately introduces Anna. This is not accidental. Luke is saying something: the one whose inner life has been pierced by the gospel — whose self has been broken open, who has received what was exposed — that is precisely the one who opens his mouth and goes out into the world. The piercing is the starting point of the advancing. Anna was that person. Point 3 — The Gospel Advances (Luke 2:36–38) "And she spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem." (Luke 2:38) Luke introduces Anna with care. The daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser, a prophetess, of a great age — she had lived with a husband seven years from her virginity, and had been a widow of about fourscore and four years. In a single sentence, loss is layered upon loss. She had lost her husband. She had lived alone through long decades. She occupied the lowest place in that society. And yet Luke gives her the title prophētis — prophetess. She is the only woman in the New Testament to receive this title. She departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day. Eighty-four years of waiting. And then the day came when the waiting ended. She could not be still. She gave thanks — the Greek anthōmologeito, an imperfect tense. Not a single act of gratitude. She continued, again and again, pouring out praise to God in that place. The gratitude of eighty-four years breaking open at once. And then she spoke. "She spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem." Spake — the Greek elalei, also imperfect. She kept on speaking. To everyone she met. Continually. Notice who she spoke to: those that looked for lytrōsin — redemption. The gospel does not scatter as random information. It moves into the history of those who are waiting for God's salvation. Anna was the lowest of the low — old, widowed, without social standing. And yet Luke records the gospel going forth through her lips. The gospel belongs to no privileged class. Whatever the conditions, whatever the circumstances — those who have truly encountered the gospel cannot be silent. Eighty-four years of waiting made her a witness. The long vigil of the temple became testimony to the world. Conclusion Two people saw the same child. One had held fast to the prophecy of Isaiah all his life. One had fasted and prayed in the temple for eighty-four years. Both their waitings came to an end before this child. And through these two, Luke shows us what the gospel does. The gospel illuminates. To those in darkness and to those who waited in promise alike. One light — revelation to the Gentiles, glory to Israel. It excludes no one. The gospel pierces. To the deepest place in the human heart — the hidden self-righteousness, the concealed resistance. He is a mirror before He is a comfort. But He exposes in order to raise up, not to cast away. And that piercing becomes the very starting point of the advancing. The gospel advances. Through the lips of the lowest. Through those who have waited longest. Into the history of all who look for redemption, to the ends of the earth. What does He expose when He stands before you? And to whom are you carrying that light? The gospel illuminates, pierces, and advances.