February 13,2022——- chapter 4
I served in the military during a period of relative peace for the country which meant that I was never deployed into a real war zone. My service was filled with plenty of challenges and several temporary overseas deployments but the challenges I faced were primarily moral and consistent with a military, whose service members by and large evidenced little interest in their Spiritual well-being and an military culture with little to prompt them toward their place in eternity.
A year before that, I was a student at a small public college in Ohio, and for most of the school year was part of a young men’s service organization, not a Christian organization, but a service minded group who offered themselves for volunteer projects within the community and even ventured out of state to engage the residents of a psychiatric facility. On one occasion during the year the local chapter associated with our university attended a conference at another school in the area and we took an advisor, an older gentlemen, not a faculty member, but a sponsor who served with the adult chapter of the organization in our college town. The conference as I recall was uneventful, what I remember is what transpired after we returned on Sunday afternoon. I was to learn the very next week that the sponsor abruptly resigned and as I had become relatively close with the man, I asked him about his sudden departure. He would not go into detail but indicated that as he was preparing to go to bed for the evening, he was subjected to the most sickening moral debauchery between men and women in the adjoining room, that he had ever heard in all of his years. To my knowledge he was not a Christian, but it so rattled him that he could no longer continue as our sponsor. Some forty years have passed and yet I still marvel at the level of darkness that singlehandedly unsettled this aged man to his core.
One could make similar observations of the first century and in particular the culture surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ. The religion of the day was largely ceremonial, often corrupted, pharisaic and Spiritually dead; the hope for Israel lay largely in the expectation of a militant messiah, who might at last unshackle the Jewish nation from their Roman masters.
But there were a few— two in particular, who chose to look at the world differently.
Simeon and Anna appear on the pages of Scripture for but a brief time but their impact upon the world of that day resonates through the attitudes and actions of those who care deeply about our God and his word, and equally about their desire to make him known. They both belong to a group of God-fearing saints who longed for something deeper and more eternally satisfying than the popular religion of the day. William Barclay identifies them as the quiet of the land. He writes,
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. (Wm. Barclay, Gospel of Luke, pg. 26)
Their hope lie in the long expected one of the Old Testament and their wisdom recognized something organically different about this child. They both listened to God’s words intently and responded in obedience completely and thereby earned not only the joyful affirmation of their God but of testimony that has endured two millennia and a place the sacred Scriptures. Those who care most about the Scriptures and their own behavior represent the best hope for recovering a Christian testimony in our own day.
LONGING FOR CONSOLATION
The man, Simeon
To be fair, we cannot definitively say that Simeon was old, but one could draw that conclusion from his comment about being ready to depart this world. Luke grouped this narrative with that of Anna’s which may mean that he viewed both of their stories as similar and necessary to his account.
We do know something about his character. Luke says that he was righteous and devout. While perfection had eluded him, the pursuit of his God’s will and the hope of God’s coming in human form was constant and passionate. Edersheim says of him—
Simeon combined the three characteristics of Old Testament piety: Justice as regarded his relation and bearing to God and man; fear of God in opposition to the boastful self-righteousness of Pharisaism; and above all, the longing expectancy of the near fulfillment of the great promises, and that in their spiritual import as the Consolation of Israel. (Edersheim, Life and Times, pg. 139)
So often we view piety as the stuff of monks and some inner life not attainable for the majority of us. But Simeon’s piety had not turned inward on itself nor diminished his interest in being a part of what God was doing. I love that term, looking for the consolation of Israel. What’s does it mean? Well in Mark 15:43, used of Joseph of Arimathea, who was waiting for the kingdom of God, and used the same way in Luke 23:51.
According to Joseph Thayer, its root means, the calling near; a summons. Specifically as it relates to Luke’s gospel, it suggests a comfort, or solace; that which affords comfort or refreshment. Another man suggests this identity refers to the comfort that the Messiah brings. Psalm 119:82 says, My eyes fail with longing for your word, while I say, “When will you comfort me?” Isaiah testifies in chapter 40, Comfort, O Comfort My people, says your God. In Is.57:19. The restorer of comfort, and in 61: 2, as part of the “Favorable year of the Lord, to ‘comfort all who mourn.
As Simeon’s life neared its Apex, he was looking for a specific kind of hope and some kind of refreshment.
Now, J. Dwight Pentecost, says that Joseph and Mary sought him out; whether or not that is the case, it was nevertheless by sovereign design that he was there.
Luke says that the Holy Spirit was upon him. The reward of a faithful life was a unique blessing that only appears to a select few prior to Pentecost— a continuing presence of the Holy Spirit that would allow him to utter both blessing and prophecy, the present light of illumination to the Gentiles and the hope of glory for the people of God. In effect, Luke renders “Blessed” as Eulogized. Most of us know what it means to Eulogize someone. We usually eulogize someone who has grown old or died, but here, Simeon is Eulogizing; calling out a blessing upon God for this gift to his people. Charles Wuest translates the passage:
And behold, there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and one who reverenced God and was pious, looking expectantly toward that which will afford comfort and refreshment for Israel. And the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit in answer to prayer, and to this revelation he was holding fast, that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he went in the control of the Spirit into the outer temple. And when the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him according to the established custom of the law, he himself also gladly received him into his arms and he eulogized God… (Charles Wuest, Expanded translation, pg. 131)
He first Eulogized and then he prophesied, and he did so in song-like manner. In Latin, the Nunc Dimittis, “Now let your servant depart.” Webster suggests its use as a canticle.
Many would fall and rise in Israel
Opposition and suffering would be part of Messiah’s mission.
That suffering will reach your own life as well
Imagine if you will, a better way to end your life
LOOKING FOR REDEMPTION
Anna: An elder voice for redemption.
If Simeon’s heart was tilted toward the hope associated with the coming of Messiah, then Anna’s heart was focused toward the redemption of her people. If Simeon’s soul needed refreshment, Anna sought out the great cry of the sinner for redemption.
She was a prophetess, a rare breed in Israel at that time; a woman, in a man’s domain, an older woman and a woman alone in a world that had little interest in widows and offered very little help to them. Luke says that she had been married for seven years and then a widow for most of her life. Either she was now 84 and had been a widow for all but seven of those years, or she was 91, having lived as a widow for eighty-four years. Miriam Neff, in a wonderful book, From One widow to another, writes,
Turning points in life such as deciding to marry, divorce, become a parent, find a career— all these events are accompanied by large changes. The difference in these is that we chose them. But becoming a widow happens. [We] understand the feeling that half of ourselves has been torn away. The wound is large and we question whether we will heal, and, if so, when? (Pg 11.)
It’s obvious that she had known the sorrow and bitterness associated with loss. And yet, she was not a victim of her circumstances, but a bruised and better servant of the Lord. In the absence of a husband and a family, she had healed, and in the process of time, devoted herself to building an intimate relationship with God; pursued that through the disciplines of fasting and prayer. It’s unlikely that she lived in the temple compound, but it’s clear, that she was never very far away from its activity nor its object of worship. She fasted that she might see clearly the leading of the Lord, and she prayed passionately that she might discern His will for her life.
We would do well to remember that singleness is a gift from God, for those who are strong enough to accept it, and an opportunity to devote their very lives to the very best of the blessings and the work that God has for them. To be widowed can envelope the believer in an unforeseen sink-well of uncertainty, loss, and difficulty but it is also the opportunity to marshal the attitudes of grit and grace and channel them both a presentation of the Gospel.
And that’s what Anna does,
And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:38)
She turns loss into a livelihood— her work, the pursuit of the mind of God, and a passion for his glory.
She makes the “meat of her existence,” the message of God’s redemption.
She defies the odds with her discipline. Instead of slipping into cynicism and despair she exercises herself unto Godliness and is rewarded with a front row seat for her Savior’s ministry.
Miriam Neff, writes, “ I discovered that most women, on becoming widowed, struggle with finding their role and their worth… While finding ourselves again is essential, finding a mission, a purpose in life, becomes necessary as well.” ( pg. 13)
Aim for heaven and you get earth thrown in. Aim for earth and you get neither.
C.S. Lewis
Applications
- IN TERMS OF GROWTH: What’s it like to grow into the fullness of God’s blessing and usefulness? One man writes of Simeon, “ With this infant in his arms, it was as if he stood on the mountain-height of prophetic vision, and watched the golden beams of sunrise far away over the isles of the Gentiles, and then gathering their full glow over his own beloved land and people. To be able to see with your heart and your mind— to feel that closeness that assures you that you know His mind and heart.
- IN TERMS OF LONGING: What’s it like to long for something so distant, yet so ardently; only to watch it appear over the horizon? One wise sage writes: Deepest in [Anna’s ] soul was longing waiting for the redemption promised, and now surely nigh. To her widowed heart the great hope of Israel appeared not so much, as to Simeon, in the light of consolation, as rather that of redemption. The seemingly hopeless exile of her own tribe, the political state of Judea, the condition— social, moral, and religious— of her own Jerusalem: all kindled in her, as in those who were like-minded, deep earnest longing for the time of promised redemption.
- IN TERMS OF SERVICE: What’s it like to serve with such a commitment that it rubs off on others. A willingness to do the work that God has called us to and to do it until He calls us home, no matter the media coverage, or the size of the audience. What I came to know as a member of the Calvary Baptist Church in Mesa, Arizona, was that there was absolutely nothing that my pastor wouldn’t do to further the Gospel in our city. That was fully demonstrated one summer at our rough style camp deep in the ponderosa pines of Northern Arizona. Our septic needs were serviced by a local company known as, don’t blush, “Pete’s Retreat”. Only one particular week, we were the ones retreating because “Pete” did not show up. With over seventy campers plus dozens of staff, this is no small problem. With the ease of a seasoned septic man and the humility not seen in most quarters, my pastor grabbled a 50 gallon trash bag and headed to the latrines. When he arrived, he pulled out his trusty number 10 metal can and began dipping out the waste as I held the bag. Yuk. But what he said stuck with me. “Mark, I’ve done a lot of things for the Lord, but this is a first.” And with that selfless act of service, he saved our camper’s week and left an indelible mark on all of us.
Somewhere in my study, I happened upon a eulogy for Elizabeth Elliott from John Piper. Piper had shared the platform at conferences, served on discussion panels together and even co-authored some books together, so it was not surprising that when Elliott died in 2015, John Piper would write about her great contribution to the world of missions and ministry of all kinds.
At 6:15 on the morning of June 15, 2015, Elisabeth Elliot died. It is a blunt sentence for a blunt woman. This is near the top of why I felt such an affection and admiration for her.
Blunt — not ungracious, not impetuous, not snappy or gruff. But direct, unsentimental, no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is, no whining allowed. Just pull your britches on and go die for Jesus —
Her first husband, Jim Elliot, was one of the five missionaries speared to death by the Huaorani Indians in Ecuador in 1956. Elisabeth immortalized that moment in mission history with three books — Through Gates of Splendor, Shadow of the Almighty, and The Savage My Kinsman — and established her voice for the cause of Christian missions and Christian womanhood and Christian purity in more than twenty other books and forty years of hard-hitting conference speaking.
She was not just gutsy with her words. Their daughter was ten months old when Jim was killed. Elisabeth stayed on, working at first with the Quichua, but then, astonishingly, for two more years with the very tribe that had speared her husband.
In July 1997, I wrote this in my journal:
“Just like Jesus, and Jim Elliot, she called young people to come and die.”
This morning, as I jogged and listened to a message by Elisabeth Elliot which she had given in Kansas City, I was deeply moved concerning my own inability to suffer magnanimously and without pouting. She was vintage Elliot and the message was the same as ever: Don’t get in touch with your feelings, submit radically to God, and do what is right no matter what. Put your love life on the altar and keep it there until God takes it off. Suffering is normal.
Just like Jesus, and Jim Elliot, she called young people to come and die. Sacrifice and suffering were woven through her writing and speaking like a scarlet thread. She was not a romantic about missions. She disliked very much the sentimentalizing of discipleship. We all know that missionaries don’t go, they “go forth,” they don’t walk, they “tread the burning sands,” they don’t die, they “lay down their lives.”
The thread of suffering was not just woven through her words, but through her relationships. Not only did she lose her first husband to a violent death three years after they were married; she also lost her second husband Addison Leitch four years after her remarriage.
Now it’s time to reveal a little secret. For seventeen years, I have from time to time spoken of a certain woman on a panel with me about the topic of world missions. This woman had heard me speak on Christian Hedonism. So, on the panel she said, “I don’t think you should say, ‘Pursue joy with all your might.’ I think you should say, ‘Pursue obedience with all your might.’” To this I responded, “But that’s like saying, ‘Don’t pursue peaches with all your might; pursue fruit.’”
And then there was her tough take on feminism and her magnificent vision of sexual complementarity. When Wayne Grudem and I looked around thirty years ago for articulate, strong, female complementarian voices to include in our book Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, she was at the top of the list. But the list was not long.
“Thirty years ago, she was already seeing with the eyes of a prophetess.”
Partly because of her voice, that list today would be so long we would not know where to stop. I love her for this influence. Her chapter in our book is called “The Essence of Femininity: A Personal Perspective.” The title is intentionally (and typically) provocative. She was already seeing with the eyes of a prophetess.
Christian higher education, trotting happily along in the train of feminist crusaders, is willing and eager to treat the subject of feminism, but gags on the word femininity. Maybe it regards the subject as trivial or unworthy of academic inquiry. Maybe the real reason is that its basic premise is feminism. Therefore it simply cannot cope with femininity. (395–96)
Finally, I loved her because she never got her teeth fixed. I would still love her if she had gotten a dental makeover to pull her two front teeth together. But she didn’t. Am I ending on a silly note? You judge.
She was captured by Christ. She was not her own. She was supremely mastered, not by any ordinary man, but by the King of the universe. He had told her,
Do not let your adorning be external — the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear — but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. . . . And do not fear anything that is frightening. (1 Peter 3:3–4, 6)
“She was supremely mastered, not by any ordinary man, but by the King of the universe.”
Whether it was the spears of the Ecuadorian jungle or the standards of American glamor, she would not be cowed. “Do not fear anything that is frightening.” That is the mark of a daughter of Sarah. And in our culture one of the most frightening things women face is not having the right figure, the right hair, the right clothes — or the right teeth. Elisabeth Elliot was free from that bondage.
Finally, she wrote, “We are women, and my plea is Let me be a woman, holy through and through, asking for nothing but what God wants to give me, receiving with both hands and with all my heart whatever that is” (398).
That prayer was answered spectacularly on the morning of June 15
Dr. Mark J. Congrove
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