Photo by Omar Lopez on Unsplash
Waiting, waiting, waiting. Day after day Simeon waited. God the Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he would see the Messiah, the Christ, before he died. So he waited. And waited. And waited. And then one day the Holy Spirit moved him to go into the temple courts. A poor, young couple came in to make the law’s offering for their firstborn son. The courts were probably thronged with people, rather like Grand Central Station on a busy weekday. But somehow Simeon knew to go to this young couple, who presumably looked no different from countless other poor people.
May I hold your baby? he asks, as people push past and the busyness of the day bustles around them. You may. And so, in a moment that sends a tingle down my spine, this old believer gently takes the little boy in his arms. He has waited so long. But now he knows his wait was not in vain. It is an extraordinary moment for any of us — the first time we hold a little baby in our arms, cradling the floppy head, holding him or her close and safe. Such a bundle of tiny limbs and measureless possibilities. “What will this baby become?” we ask a we look into their eyes. “What will the future hold for them?” And yet somehow Simeon knows. This little boy with poor parents who perhaps speak with a rough Galilean accent, this boy who looks so ordinary — this child is the Lord’s Messiah. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in this little bundle of life.
And so Simeon sings, as he holds the infant Jesus in his arms. And what a wonderful song! It will be known for most of the history of the Christian church as the “Nunc Dimittis” (after the first words of the song in Latin). It is not so well known today, but it should be.
I can die now, Simeon begins. You can dismiss your servant in peace. All my waiting is at an end. Why? Because I have seen, with my own eyes, the one who is your salvation, your great rescue for humankind. He is for all nations, for the Gentiles (the rest of the world) and for Israel too. One old man, one tiny baby, one place, one day, and yet in this baby is the only hope of rescue for the whole world, for each and every man and women who had ever lived or will ever live until history ends.
Simeon waited. He did not wait in vain, for he saw the Lord Jesus Christ and held him in his arms. We too wait. We look back, at Christmas, to the first coming of Christ as a tiny baby. We remember on Good Friday his death for sinners. We rejoice on Easter Sunday in his bodily resurrection. We celebrate on Ascension Day his glorious ascension to the Father’s right hand. We delight at Pentecost in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit to dwell in our hearts as the down payment of eternal life. And we look forward at Advent to Jesus’ return. And we wait. And we wait.
And just as Simeon did not wait in vain, we too will not wait in vain. People will mock; fold will doubt his return. But one day he will come back, not as a baby but in visible glory to judge the world and rescue his people. All our little waitings, as hard as they may be — for healing, for reconciliation, for mental health, for peace, for joy and life — are taken up in the one great waiting, the expectation that governs them all: the longing for Jesus’ return. In the delight and wonder of Simeon as he held amazement that we shall feel when the Lord Jesus Christ appears in glory. And we are assured that our wait is not in vain.
