Eyes That See Salvation: The Joy of Simeon and Anna.

Have you ever waited so long for something that you nearly lost hope? Perhaps a letter that never arrived, a phone call that kept you staring at your screen, or a long-anticipated reunion that seemed forever postponed. Maybe it was a healing, a breakthrough, or a prayer you whispered for years. Each day passed like the last, yet you kept looking out the window, wondering, “Could today be the day?”

That’s the kind of waiting Simeon and Anna knew. Not for something ordinary—but for Someone extraordinary. Their wait was not for a season, but for a lifetime. Both of them had lived through silent years, with no prophet, no visible sign of change—only a promise and a hope in their hearts. They believed in the coming of the Messiah, the one who would bring consolation, redemption, and light. And even in the silence, they kept showing up—waiting, praying, hoping.

In Luke 2:22-38, we’re invited into the temple courts to witness a quiet but world-changing encounter. A young couple enters, holding a child. It seems like any ordinary day. But for Simeon and Anna, this child is the fulfillment of every promise. This baby is salvation—wrapped in fragile humanity.

As we walk through this sacred moment, we’ll reflect on three themes that speak deeply to our own lives today:

1. Waiting in faith  

2. Seeing salvation  

3. Responding with praise and proclamation  

May their story stir in us a renewed hope as we, too, look for the Savior in our waiting.

Simeon is introduced as a man who was “righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel” (Luke 2:25). The word consolation carries deep emotional weight—it speaks of comfort after mourning, peace after war, rest after striving. For the people of Israel, that consolation was long overdue. They had experienced exile, political oppression, and centuries of prophetic silence. Now under Roman rule, many lived in frustration, if not complete despair. Yet Simeon had not lost hope. He lived differently. He waited—not with resignation, but with expectation.

This kind of waiting is not passive. It’s not just sitting around. Simeon’s waiting was infused with faith. He was alert, prayerful, ready. Luke tells us, “The Holy Spirit was upon him,” and that it was revealed to him “that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ” (Luke 2:25–26). That promise sustained him. He may not have known when or how, but he trusted the One who had spoken. He lived each day with eyes open, heart ready.

Anna, too, is a portrait of faith-filled endurance. She had been widowed after only seven years of marriage, yet instead of turning bitter or inward, she turned upward. Luke says she “never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying” (Luke 2:37). By the time Mary and Joseph walked into the temple with the infant Jesus, Anna was 84 years old. Decades of waiting had not worn out her soul. She had not given up on God’s promise.

In our own lives, we often struggle with waiting. Whether it’s waiting for healing, direction, justice, or restoration, the silence can feel unbearable. The world teaches us to hustle and fix things now. But God often shapes us most during the seasons of waiting. Faith doesn’t mean we always have answers—it means we trust even when we don’t.

Psalm 27:14 encourages us, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Waiting on God builds spiritual muscle. It deepens trust. It prepares us to recognize Him when He moves.

What made Simeon’s and Anna’s faith so remarkable wasn’t just that they waited, but how they waited. They waited with worship. They waited with hope. They waited with eyes wide open, believing that one day—perhaps even today—God would keep His promise.

And He did.

When Mary and Joseph walked in with baby Jesus, Simeon was ready. Moved by the Spirit, he took the child in his arms and praised God. It wasn’t the throne of David or the sword of a warrior that he saw—it was a baby wrapped in ordinary cloth. But in that baby, he saw salvation.

Faith like Simeon’s and Anna’s reminds us: God’s delays are not His denials. In His perfect timing, the waiting ends, and the promise is fulfilled.  

Let us also be found waiting in faith—praying, worshiping, watching—so that when our moment comes, we too may see the Savior with eyes of hope.

Finally, the moment arrived.

Simeon, led by the Spirit, entered the temple courts. There was nothing particularly extraordinary happening—just the usual bustle of families fulfilling religious obligations. But to Simeon, this day was different. Something stirred deep within. Prompted by the Spirit, he looked and saw a young couple carrying their infant son. And in that instant, Simeon knew.

Years of prayer, fasting, and longing—all culminating in this quiet moment. He approached them, gently took the child into his arms, and lifted his voice in praise:

This wasn’t just poetic language—it was prophecy. It was clarity. Simeon wasn’t merely holding a baby; he was beholding the Savior. Salvation had come—not wrapped in power or military strength, but in the fragile frame of an infant. Yet Simeon, through the eyes of faith, saw the truth: this child was the fulfillment of every promise God had made to Israel—and more.

What makes Simeon’s proclamation so remarkable is its breadth. Most devout Jews of his time longed for a Messiah who would restore the glory of Israel alone. But Simeon, filled with the Holy Spirit, proclaimed a salvation that would extend beyond national borders. He saw Jesus as “a light for revelation to the Gentiles.” This was radical. It was one of the first spoken declarations that God’s Messiah would not only redeem Israel but shine His light upon all nations—every tribe, every tongue, every people.

The salvation Simeon saw was universal and deeply personal. It was both “for all nations” and “the glory of your people Israel.” God was fulfilling His promise to His chosen people, but in a way that included the rest of the world.

This moment in the temple reminds us of a profound truth: sometimes the most extraordinary works of God come in the most ordinary packages. To many, Jesus was just another baby that day. But to Simeon, whose heart had been trained by the Spirit, Jesus was the Savior.

What about us? Can we still see Him today? We may not walk into a temple and hold Him physically, but we can still behold Him spiritually. John 1:14 says, “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son.”

When our eyes are opened by the Spirit, we too can see Jesus—not just as a historical figure or moral teacher, but as the living salvation of God, the One who came to redeem, restore, and reign.

For Simeon, seeing Jesus was enough. He said, “Now dismiss your servant in peace.” He could die satisfied—not because he had achieved greatness in the world, but because he had seen the Savior.

May we also live with that kind of vision—and when we see Jesus for who He is, may our hearts overflow with peace and praise.

When Simeon took the infant Jesus into his arms and praised God, it was more than a joyful outburst. It was a moment of prophetic clarity, saturated with both deep peace and sobering truth. His joy was not just personal—it was a public declaration.

He began with words of peace: “Sovereign Lord, as You have promised, You may now dismiss Your servant in peace” (Luke 2:29). Simeon had seen the Messiah, and now he was ready to leave this world in peace. But then, his words turned prophetic and piercing.

Simeon looked at Mary and said, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against” (Luke 2:34). Salvation would not come without disruption. Jesus would be a dividing line—those who humbled themselves would rise, and those who clung to pride would fall. He would expose the true thoughts of every heart. The Messiah was not coming to bring comfort alone, but also confrontation. 

Then Simeon added: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35). It was a tender, solemn warning to Mary, foreshadowing the suffering she would witness at the foot of the cross. Even in this moment of joy, the shadow of sacrifice was present. Simeon did not shrink back from truth, and he did not hold back his praise. His life was devoted to waiting, but in seeing the Savior, his purpose was complete—and he fulfilled it by proclaiming boldly.

Then Anna entered the scene. Luke writes, “Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38). She didn’t delay. She didn’t need explanation or confirmation. She knew. Her whole life had been a life of worship—fasting, praying, and serving in the temple—and now, in her old age, her eyes beheld the answer to every prayer.

Her first response was thanksgiving. The joy in her heart spilled out in grateful praise. But she didn’t stop there. She began to speak—to share—to proclaim. Anna became one of the first evangelists in the New Testament, telling others that the redemption of Jerusalem, long awaited, had finally come.

Simeon and Anna remind us that encountering Jesus leads to action. It’s never just a private moment. Real faith speaks. Real faith sings. Real faith proclaims. When we see who Jesus is, when we recognize His salvation, we cannot keep it to ourselves.

Psalm 107:2 says, “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story.” That’s exactly what Simeon and Anna did—and what we’re called to do today.

If you’ve seen the goodness of God, if you’ve experienced the peace of Christ, then it’s time to share. Like Simeon and Anna, we are invited not only to see Jesus, but to respond with praise and proclamation—to point others to the One who is the light for all nations and the glory of His people.

Simeon and Anna offer us more than just a glimpse into a sacred moment—they give us a model of faith that endures, eyes that recognize God at work, and hearts that respond with joy and proclamation. These were not extraordinary people in the eyes of the world. One was an aging man who had clung to a promise from the Spirit; the other, an elderly widow who had chosen a life of prayer and worship over comfort or worldly recognition. And yet, their names are etched into Scripture because they saw what others could not. They saw salvation—in the form of a newborn child.

Simeon’s words capture the fullness of the Gospel: “My eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of Your people Israel” (Luke 2:30–32). This salvation is not distant or abstract. It is Jesus—God’s promise fulfilled, the light in our darkness, the hope for all people.

Anna’s response is just as vital. She gave thanks and immediately began to tell others. Her years of waiting turned into a message of joy, hope, and redemption.

As we journey through this season of Lent, preparing our hearts for the cross and the empty tomb, let us not overlook the quiet moments where God is already present. Like Simeon and Anna, may we wait well, recognize His salvation, and share it freely with others.

Yes, may our eyes, too, see His salvation—and may our hearts never stop rejoicing.

Let’s pray together.

Lord, we thank You for the faithful witness of Simeon and Anna. In their waiting, we see hope. In their praise, we see joy. In their eyes, we see salvation. Teach us to wait on You with faith, to recognize Your presence in our lives, and to proclaim Your goodness to those around us. May we, too, see and hold onto the salvation You have provided through Jesus Christ. Fill us with peace, joy, and the boldness to share the light of Christ with a world in need. In Jesus’ name, Amen.