THE EYES HAVE IT
There is a quiet kind of beauty in the Advent season that has nothing to do with lights, trees, music, or celebration. It is the beauty of waiting. Of watching. Of learning to see God when He draws near. Advent, at its heart, is a season of holy attentiveness—where the people of God lean forward and whisper, “Lord, help us see You when You come.”
That is why the story of Simeon and Anna belongs so deeply to this season.
Luke tells us that when Mary and Joseph brought the infant Jesus to the temple for dedication, the courts were busy. It was the kind of day when pilgrims were moving in and out, priests were conducting rituals, conversations were happening in corners, and life was pulsing as usual.
And yet, in all that activity, only two people recognized Him.
Two elderly saints whose eyes were trained by devotion. Two worshipers whose hearts had remained soft. Two people who had spent long years waiting in hope—until the moment hope finally moved toward them in the form of a baby.
Their eyes recognized Jesus.
Not because He looked extraordinary.
Not because His parents looked important.
Not because anything about Him outwardly demanded attention.
They saw Him because their spiritual vision had been shaped over decades of walking with God.
That truth forms the pastoral heart of this message:
Advent sharpens our sight so we do not miss Jesus when He stands in front of us.
And in Simeon and Anna’s story, “the eyes have it”—the eyes of the faithful, the watching, the prayerful, the surrendered.
I want us to walk into that temple today—not as spectators, but as learners. As disciples praying, “Lord, give us eyes that recognize You. Train our sight. Form our vision. Shape our hearts so that when You move—whether in Scripture, worship, providence, hardship, or silence—we do not miss Your presence.”
To begin, we first need to understand the world they lived in.
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THE WORLD THAT COULD NOT SEE HIM
When Mary and Joseph arrived with Jesus at the temple, they were not the only ones there to worship. Jerusalem’s temple in the first century was always busy. Religious leaders studied and taught. Worshipers offered sacrifices. Levites sang. Merchants sold. Pilgrims prayed. Children played at their parents’ feet. The elderly leaned on staffs. Romans patrolled.
It was a swirl of activity—holy activity, yet still human activity.
And yet not one priest, rabbi, or teacher recognized that the Messiah they had long studied and preached was now in their midst. The irony is piercing: the very Scriptures read every Sabbath pointed to the Messiah, yet when He arrived, nearly everyone’s eyes were fixed elsewhere.
Not because they were wicked.
Not because they were uninterested.
Not because they were faithless.
But because spiritual sight is something cultivated, not assumed.
Recognition of Jesus is never automatic.
It’s possible to be in the presence of Christ and not see Him.
Possible to hear His Word and not recognize His voice.
Possible to go through the motions of Sabbath worship without the expectancy that Jesus might reveal Himself again today.
Simeon and Anna break that pattern.
They show us that the true preparation for Advent is not outward tradition but inward attentiveness.
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SIMEON — EYES TRAINED BY HOPE
Luke introduces Simeon with two simple but profound words:
“He was righteous and devout.” —Luke 2:25
“Righteous” describes his outward integrity.
“Devout” describes the inward posture of his heart.
This is someone whose life had been shaped by Scripture, cultivated through prayer, and guided by obedience. He was not flawless, but he was faithful. The kind of man who lived close enough to God that he recognized God’s movements.
But then Luke adds a phrase that is the key to his spiritual eyesight:
“The Holy Spirit was upon him.” —Luke 2:25
Before Pentecost, before the outpouring of Acts 2, before the disciples received tongues of fire in the upper room, the Spirit was already resting upon Simeon. This tells us something important: the Spirit does not wait for dramatic moments to lead us—He trains us gently over a lifetime.
Simeon had been listening for years, and that listening shaped his ability to see.
Then comes perhaps the most tender detail:
“It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.” —Luke 2:26
What a promise for an old man.
Imagine waking each morning thinking, “Maybe today is the day.”
Imagine standing in the temple on a Sabbath afternoon, scanning the faces of young couples, wondering, “Lord, is this one? Or will You bring Him tomorrow? Or next year? Or after I am too old to walk this far?”
This is what Advent faith looks like.
Not passive waiting.
Not distracted waiting.
But hopeful, attentive, expectant waiting.
Then Scripture says:
“Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts.” —Luke 2:27
Not shoved.
Not startled.
Not overwhelmed.
Just moved—a gentle nudge, a quiet sense of direction, a whisper that felt like peace:
Go now, Simeon. Go now.
He walked toward the Child, and as Mary drew near, his spirit recognized Jesus faster than his eyes did.
This is how spiritual sight works:
The heart often recognizes what the eyes have not yet processed.
Simeon’s entire life converged into that moment.
And what he did next reveals everything about a heart that sees clearly.
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WHEN RECOGNITION BECOMES WORSHIP
Some people worship loudly; others worship quietly.
Some worship with hands raised; others worship with eyes closed.
But Simeon worshiped like a man receiving a long-awaited miracle.
Scripture says:
“Simeon took Him in his arms and praised God…” —Luke 2:28
He didn’t pause.
He didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t analyze.
He didn’t question.
Recognition flowed directly into worship.
When spiritual eyesight is clear, worship becomes reflex.
When you finally see Jesus—really see Him—you don’t need to be convinced to worship; your heart simply does what it was created to do.
Then Simeon prayed words so full, so complete, so peaceful that the church has sung them for centuries:
“Lord, now let Your servant depart in peace,
for my eyes have seen Your salvation…” —Luke 2:29–30
This was not sorrow.
This was fulfillment.
He was saying, “Lord, I can close my eyes for the last time whenever You call, because I have opened them today to the One I waited for. I have seen Your salvation with my own eyes.”
Oh, that Advent would give us that kind of sight.
Eyes that recognize Jesus in Scripture, in worship, in conversion, in baptism, in answered prayer, in unexpected kindness, in unexplained peace, in unearned grace.
When the eyes of the heart see Jesus clearly, life becomes anchored and death becomes peaceful.
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ANNA — EYES TRAINED BY WORSHIP
Simeon is not the only one in the temple ready to see the Messiah.
Anna enters the scene like a gentle echo of Simeon’s recognition.
Luke says she was a prophetess, advanced in years, widowed early in life, and now devoted entirely to worship:
“She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying.” —Luke 2:37
To some, this might have looked like someone retreating from life.
But Anna had not retreated—she had repositioned.
She placed herself close to the heart of God.
She lived in the atmosphere of prayer.
She dwelt in the rhythm of worship.
She breathed in Scripture.
She breathed out praise.
It’s no wonder she recognized Jesus.
Spiritual eyes grow sharper in the atmosphere of worship.
Worship trains perception.
Worship clarifies vision.
Worship softens the heart so that when God passes by—even quietly—we notice Him.
Scripture says:
“Coming up to them at that very moment…” —Luke 2:38
Not earlier.
Not later.
Not almost.
At that very moment.
Perfect timing—because worshipers often end up exactly where Jesus is moving.
And when Anna saw Him, she gave thanks and began to speak to everyone who was waiting for God’s redemption.
Where Simeon shows us that seeing leads to worship, Anna shows us that worship leads to witness.
Recognition of Jesus is never meant to remain a private blessing.
Spiritual eyesight is given so it can guide others.
The temple scene in Luke 2 is quiet, almost gentle. There is no angel choir, no brilliant star, no shepherds running in from the fields, no wise men bowing with gifts. This is a different kind of revelation—one without spectacle or noise. God often comes to us this way: softly, subtly, without forcing Himself into our attention.
When the Almighty stepped into His own temple as an infant carried in His mother’s arms, the miracle was wrapped in ordinary cloth. And that is precisely the point: only the eyes of faith can recognize God in ordinary wrapping.
This is where Simeon and Anna teach us so much about Advent. They show us the beauty of spiritual vision. They remind us that in God’s kingdom, the eyes really do have it—because sight determines response.
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Let’s pause the scene for a moment and explore what their vision means for us.
>> 1. Spiritual Sight Must Be Cultivated
No one in the temple that day was spiritually blind in the literal sense. They could all see the Child with their physical eyes. But only Simeon and Anna had the inner clarity to recognize who He truly was.
Their sight was not instant; it was cultivated.
Simeon did not wake up one morning with perfect spiritual perception.
Anna did not suddenly develop prophetic insight in her old age.
These qualities had grown in them the way fruit grows on a tree—slowly, steadily, nourished by faithfulness.
This is important, because many of us long for deeper spiritual insight. We want to hear God’s voice more clearly, sense His movements more quickly, recognize His presence more consistently.
Scripture tells us this kind of sight is possible—but it requires the same long obedience Simeon and Anna practiced.
Spiritual sight grows through:
Daily Scripture — because God’s Word trains the heart to recognize His voice.
Consistent prayer — because prayer tunes the soul to heavenly frequencies.
Faithful worship — because worship aligns our hearts with God’s heart.
Quiet reflection — because silence sharpens perception.
Obedience — because obedience clears the fog from spiritual eyesight.
Waiting — because waiting stretches our dependence on God.
Advent invites us to slow down and cultivate these rhythms. In a season when the world rushes, Advent calls us to watch.
Simeon watched.
Anna watched.
Their long faithfulness trained their eyes.
If we want to see Jesus clearly in our lives, we must move beyond occasional devotion and toward steady, cultivated attentiveness.
>> 2. Spiritual Sight Recognizes Jesus Even in Small Things
Nothing about Jesus’ appearance would have signaled His identity that day. He did not glow. He did not speak. He did not work a miracle. He did not carry a royal emblem.
He was just a baby—small, ordinary, vulnerable.
It is easy to imagine a rabbi passing by and thinking, “Another firstborn child being dedicated.”
A priest might have thought, “This family looks poor; they’re offering two birds instead of a lamb.”
A merchant might have thought, “This couple looks tired; maybe they traveled far.”
No one saw a King.
No one saw a Savior.
No one saw the Light of the world.
But Simeon saw salvation.
Anna saw redemption.
Their vision pierced through appearance into reality.
This, too, is part of Advent: God often hides glory inside humility.
He conceals His power in weakness.
He disguises His greatness in simplicity.
He veils His presence in ordinary moments.
Spiritual eyesight recognizes God in:
a whispered prayer answered quietly
a Scripture verse that speaks at just the right moment
a Sabbath sermon that lands precisely where our soul needed healing
a gesture of kindness that comes unexpectedly
a burden that lifts without explanation
a peace that settles as if Someone walked into the room
a conversation that opens the heart
a moment of clarity that feels too timely to be coincidence
God is still entering temples—in the ordinary movements of our day.
But only those with cultivated sight recognize His footsteps.
>> 3. Spiritual Sight Brings Peace
When Simeon held Jesus, his words were not dramatic; they were peaceful.
“Now, Lord, let Your servant depart in peace…” —Luke 2:29
He did not ask for more years.
He did not ask for more blessings.
He did not ask for more proof.
Seeing Jesus was enough.
This is one of Advent’s deepest gifts: when Christ becomes visible to the heart, peace rises naturally.
Not the peace of circumstances finally aligning.
Not the peace of problems disappearing.
Not the peace of life becoming easy.
But the peace that comes from knowing, “The Lord has kept His promise. My eyes have seen His faithfulness.”
We often chase peace—even in religious settings.
We want certainty.
We want clarity.
We want outcomes.
We want guarantees.
But Scripture teaches:
Peace is not something we achieve; it is something we receive when we perceive Christ.
Peace is the fruit of recognition.
When Jesus becomes visible, peace becomes inevitable.
Anna experienced the same peace, though with a different expression. Instead of saying, “I can depart in peace,” she expresses peace by giving thanks and sharing hope.
Some people express recognition with quiet contentment.
Others express it with joyful proclamation.
Both come from peace.
>> 4. Spiritual Sight Deepens Our Love for the World
When Simeon looked at Jesus, he saw something no one else had fully articulated:
“A light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of Your people Israel.” Luke 2:32
Simeon saw that Jesus was not only the Messiah of Israel;
He was the Savior of the world.
This insight was deeper than most expected. Many were waiting for a political ruler, a national liberator, or a military hero. Simeon saw beyond national boundaries and cultural divisions. His eyes, trained by the Spirit, recognized the global wideness of Christ’s mission.
This is crucial for us today.
A clear view of Jesus always expands our love.
It widens our compassion.
It increases our patience.
It enlarges our heart for people we disagree with, struggle with, or do not understand.
When we see Jesus clearly, we begin to see others differently.
Anna expressed this outward vision as well. Scripture says:
“…she spoke about the Child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.” —Luke 2:38
She saw hurting people and offered them hope.
She saw searching people and pointed them toward Christ.
She saw waiting people and told them the wait was over.
Spiritual sight always leads outward—because once you’ve seen Jesus, you want others to see Him too.
>> 5. Spiritual Sight Helps Us Understand Suffering Differently
There is a moment in Simeon’s blessing that we sometimes avoid because it feels heavy and out of place in the joy of Advent.
Simeon turned to Mary and said:
“…and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” —Luke 2:35
Advent reminds us that the Child in the manger is also the Man of Sorrows on the cross. Salvation requires suffering. Redemption is costly. But even this truth is not meant to discourage—it is meant to deepen our understanding.
Simeon saw not only Christ’s glory but Christ’s path.
He saw both the joy of His coming and the sorrow of His mission.
He saw the redemption of the world and the piercing of Mary’s heart.
Spiritual sight is honest sight.
It does not flinch from reality.
It does not deny pain.
It does not pretend suffering doesn’t exist.
But it also does not despair—because suffering is seen through the lens of God’s redemptive plan.
Anna, a widow for many decades, understood suffering intimately. Yet her sorrow had shaped her worship, not extinguished it.
When suffering is illuminated by Christ’s presence, sorrow becomes sacred.
>> 6. Spiritual Sight Teaches Us to See Ourselves More Clearly
Standing in the temple that day, Simeon did not see himself as the center of the story. He saw himself as a servant.
“Now let Your servant depart in peace…” —Luke 2:29
The more clearly we see Jesus, the more accurately we see ourselves:
We see our dependence more honestly.
We see our pride more humbly.
We see our needs more clearly.
We see our gifts more gratefully.
We see our weaknesses more honestly but with less shame.
We see our purpose more confidently.
Seeing Jesus is the beginning of seeing ourselves as God sees us.
Anna, likewise, understood her identity. She did not define herself by her loss, her age, or her loneliness. She defined herself by her worship and her witness.
Spiritual sight integrates our identity around Christ’s presence, not our circumstances.
>> 7. Advent Sharpens Our Vision
As we step deeper into this Advent message, we need to acknowledge something true and deeply pastoral:
Many believers feel spiritually blurry.
Not blind.
Not faithless.
Just blurry.
Life has been busy.
Work has been stressful.
Family matters have been heavy.
Faith sometimes feels like it comes filtered through fog.
Advent is God’s invitation to slow down long enough to regain clarity.
Simeon and Anna remind us:
God comes to those who watch.
God speaks to those who listen.
God reveals Himself to those who draw near.
God strengthens those who wait.
God opens the eyes of those who stay faithful.
This season is not about racing through days but lingering in holy moments.
Not about decorating our homes but preparing our hearts.
Not about buying gifts but receiving grace.
Not about noise but attentiveness.
Advent says:
“Lift your eyes. Look again. He is near.”
Spiritual sight is one of the great themes of Advent. We don’t always think of it this way, because Advent is so often framed around expectation—waiting, hoping, anticipating. But beneath all of that is the deeper question:
Will we recognize Him when He comes?
The tragedy of the first Advent was not that people didn’t want salvation—it was that they did not recognize salvation when it stood in front of them.
The joy of the first Advent is that a few did.
Simeon and Anna show us that recognition belongs to the faithful—to those whose eyes are shaped by devotion, softened by worship, sharpened by Scripture, and awakened by the Spirit.
But Advent doesn’t stop there.
The story presses us into a larger question:
How do we keep our eyes open to Jesus today?
Because Christ still comes to His people.
Not as an infant in a temple, but:
in the quiet turning of the heart
in a Scripture verse that suddenly glows with new meaning
in a Sabbath service that feels like God opened a window
in forgiveness offered or received
in conviction that leads to repentance
in comfort that arrives like a warm blanket on a cold night
in the peace that passes understanding
in the whisper of a call to serve
in the courage to do what is right
in a burden lifted without explanation
in a moment of unexplainable joy
Christ is not absent.
He is present.
The real issue is our sight.
So the final movement of this message is simply this:
How can Advent train our eyes the way it trained Simeon and Anna’s?
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Let’s move through several pastoral invitations.
>> 1. Slow Enough to See
We cannot see what we rush past.
Simeon and Anna were not frantically moving through life. Their pace allowed for attentiveness. Simeon listened long enough to sense a nudge from the Spirit. Anna remained still long enough to recognize the Child’s arrival “at that very moment.”
In a world of constant motion, speed blurs our vision.
Advent invites us to slow down—not just physically, but spiritually.
What if we made room in this season for:
slow, reflective Scripture reading
unhurried prayer
a quiet walk
a moment of listening before speaking
a pause before reacting
a deep breath before rushing
Sometimes the difference between missing Jesus and recognizing Him is simply the difference between frantic living and attentive living.
Eyes sharpen when the soul slows.
>> 2. Silence Enough to Hear
We often think of sight as visual, but spiritual sight requires spiritual hearing. Simeon recognized Jesus because he first recognized the Spirit’s voice. Anna recognized Jesus because she lived in an atmosphere of prayer.
Most believers do not reject God’s voice—they simply never hear it because the noise of life is too loud.
Advent calls us toward holy quiet.
Not the silence of emptiness,
but the silence of expectation.
Not the silence of disconnecting from God,
but the silence of making room for Him.
We cannot receive the gentle nudges of the Spirit if our hearts are filled with noise, even religious noise.
Advent says: “Be still. He is near.”
>> 3. Scripture Enough to Discern
Simeon recognized Jesus because he knew the promises. He was watching for a Messiah shaped by the words of Isaiah, not the wishful imagination of Israel. He looked neither for a military conqueror nor a political hero, but for God’s salvation.
Faith grows in proportion to familiarity with Scripture.
Vision grows in proportion to the depth of our biblical imagination.
If the Word of God fills our minds, the presence of God will be easier to recognize.
Advent invites us to read with expectancy—not as a duty, but as a doorway. As if Scripture is not only a story about Christ but a space where Christ Himself steps toward us.
>> 4. Worship Enough to Soften
Anna lived in the temple of worship. Her life was shaped by gratitude, reverence, fasting, and prayer. Worship does not sharpen the eyes by giving new information—it sharpens the eyes by softening the heart.
A worshiping heart sees differently.
When we worship, we align our hearts with God’s heart. The fog lifts. The spiritual cataracts thin. The distractions quiet. The anxieties loosen. When we humble ourselves before God, we step into the atmosphere where recognition becomes possible.
In Advent, worship is not just something we do; it's something that shapes who we are becoming.
>> 5. Community Enough to Confirm
Anna didn’t worship alone. Simeon didn’t stand isolated. Both were part of a worshiping community. Their recognition happened within the temple—not on a hillside, not in a private prayer chamber, not in isolation.
God often reveals Christ to us in the company of His people.
A Sabbath conversation
A shared prayer
A testimony
A moment of unity
A quiet reassurance
A song that lifts the room
A message that pierces the heart
Healthy community clarifies vision.
Others often confirm what God is showing us.
Advent is a communal season because revelation is rarely an isolated event.
>> 6. Trust Enough to Respond
Recognition alone is not the end; it is the beginning of response.
Simeon saw Jesus—and he moved toward Him.
Anna saw Jesus—and she spoke about Him.
Seeing Jesus calls us to action.
Advent is not static; it is active.
It is not simply a season of beholding; it is a season of becoming.
To see Christ clearly is to welcome Him fully.
To welcome Him fully is to follow Him faithfully.
To follow Him faithfully is to trust Him deeply.
This is where sight becomes discipleship.
This is where recognition becomes obedience.
This is where revelation becomes transformation.
>> 7. Hope Enough to Persevere
The faithfulness of Simeon and Anna is remarkable. Simeon waited decades for the fulfillment of a personal promise. Anna worshiped faithfully for a lifetime after a deep personal loss.
Their eyes stayed open because their hope stayed alive.
Some of us know what it is to wait a long time for God to move.
Some of us know what it is to pray without immediate answers.
Some of us know what it is to worship with tears.
Some of us know what it is to remain faithful when life feels incomplete.
Advent speaks gently into these long seasons:
“Do not give up.
Your eyes will see the faithfulness of God.”
Spiritual sight is sustained by hope.
Hope refuses to let spiritual vision die.
The Advent Invitation: Lift Up Your Eyes
When we gather in Advent, we join Simeon and Anna in lifting our eyes—not to the decorations of the season or the busyness of the month, but to the reality that God has drawn near.
Advent trains our eyes to see Christ:
in Scripture
in worship
in prayer
in community
in ordinary moments
in quiet whispers
in unexpected encounters
in the hearts of those around us
in the gentle work of the Spirit
in the movement of grace through our lives
Christ is coming.
Christ is near.
Christ is present.
“The eyes have it”—not because our sight is perfect, but because God is gracious. He reveals Himself to those who seek Him.
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Appeal
Maybe you feel like your vision has dimmed this year.
Maybe spiritual things feel distant or muted.
Maybe the light seems softer, the Scriptures quieter, the worship thinner, the prayers slower.
Then Advent is for you.
This season is God’s invitation to you:
“Lift your eyes again. Look again. I am near.”
If Simeon, in his old age, could still hear the Spirit’s whisper—
If Anna, in her long sorrow, could still offer praise—
If both of them could recognize Jesus at a moment when almost everyone else walked past—
Then so can you.
All Jesus asks today is openness.
Not perfection.
Not performance.
Not certainty.
Just openness.
“Lord Jesus, open my eyes.
Help me see You.
Give me Simeon’s steadiness.
Give me Anna’s worship.
Give me spiritual sight.”
This is the quiet miracle of Advent:
Christ reveals Himself to those who look for Him.
May your eyes recognize Jesus this season—
in Scripture, in worship, in prayer, in the people around you,
and in the quiet corners of your own heart.
Amen.
