The Faithful Saw Him

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.