Rediscovering the party
Commentary
Object:
First, there is the happy and important event itself. Then there is the natural instinct to look back and remember the event. Then comes the established tradition of celebrating the anniversary of the event. Then there is the gradually evolving emphasis on the celebration. After some years have passed, the original event has been eclipsed by all of the confetti that flies in celebration of it.
So from time to time, we need to rediscover the reasons for all of our parties.
I think, for example, of the three national holidays that mark Americans' summers: Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day. The meaning that lies behind each is significant, yet it is easily lost. We are so caught up in our long weekends, our cookouts, and stores' holiday sales that we might party our way through all three holidays without giving a moment's attention to the underlying meaning of any of them.
Thanksgiving is another natural example. The context of the first thanksgiving and all that it represented is buried somewhere beneath the feasting and the football. Our forebears might vaguely recognize our tables on Thanksgiving but not our hearts.
Then there is Christmas. It is, by far, the holiday that we celebrate more than any other. Birthdays and anniversaries enjoy a day, or perhaps only a part of a day. Memorial Day and Labor Day get their three-day weekends. But Christmas dominates at least an entire month, and its festivities' leading edge keeps getting earlier and earlier. So we do a lot of celebrating at Christmas, yet we have largely lost sight of the reason for the party.
This isn't a lament over the commercialization of the holiday. Neither is it a trite reminder that we celebrate Jesus' birth. Rather, there is a deeper, fuller, gospel truth to be affirmed. For all of our parties, festivities, and celebrating trace back to genuine rejoicing. And the rejoicing, we rediscover, is all about salvation.
Isaiah 61:10--62:3
While most of the first half of the book of the prophet Isaiah is characterized by a tone of warning and the prospect of trouble, the second half has a different feel. Here, near the end of the book, the message is decidedly hopeful and promising. The text is very fluid with personal pronouns, and it is not always clear who is speaking or being addressed, but the tone for all involved is unmistakably positive.
Broadly speaking, the central issue of the entire passage is the activity of the Lord. That is the cause of the praise in the first portion, and that is the promise and expectation of the second portion. And that rough outline is well-suited to this season, for we rejoice today in the promise of God's saving activity fulfilled.
At the outset, the speaker is ebullient with rejoicing. This is not merely a good mood, however, or a happy circumstance. No, he is rejoicing "in the Lord" and exulting "in my God." Moods and circumstances change, but the Lord does not. Therefore, our rejoicing may be constant. We are reminded of Paul's encouragement from some centuries later: "Rejoice in the Lord always" (Philippians 4:4).
The image of being clothed by the Lord is not only picturesque but profound. From the very beginning (Genesis 3:21) to the very end (Revelation 3:5), the Lord is clothing his people. He covers, he adorns, and he honors us. And every stitch of it is more than what we deserve.
We note especially that "salvation" and "righteousness" come from the Lord. Seen through the lens of the New Testament, we recognize how prescient and profound this imagery is. Neither our salvation nor our righteousness is something that we acquire or put on for ourselves. They are his provision, and they come together. Thus, by his grace, our status and condition are suddenly and completely different.
The picturesque language continues. The quick reference to a bride and a bridegroom is meant only as a simile here, but we recognize immediately the appropriateness of the image in the context of our relationship with the Lord. Meanwhile, the gardening allusion brings to mind the larger biblical theme of fruition, as well as the principle that a thing that is functioning properly will naturally produce according to God's design what is pleasing to him.
As we turn the page to chapter 62, we meet the theme of vindication. At its worst, of course, the attitude of a person who is vindictive is a truly ugly thing. At its best, however, vindication is part of any perfect ending, for it sets the record straight about what is good and what is bad, what is true and what is false.
In this case, vindication and salvation are linked together, and they belong to Zion or Jerusalem. Yet like the salvation and righteousness we saw earlier, this vindication is not a human achievement. Jerusalem does not win her own vindication. Rather, again, this is the work of God, and as such it is the beautiful, divine act of setting things right.
Of course, on this particular Sunday the Christmas event and story are very much on our minds, and these words from the Old Testament prophet do not seem closely related to the stable and the manger. Yet we can imagine these words of rejoicing and affirmation coming from either Simeon or Anna. And we recognize the theme of salvation coming from God, who graciously intervenes to make things right.
Galatians 4:4-7
"The fullness of time" is a sermon unto itself. That phrase from Paul inspires much reflection on the providence of God across the board. We might explore the wisdom and perfection of his timing in sending Christ and that would remind us in turn of his providential timing in the lives and events of so many other characters in scripture, as well as our own.
Meanwhile, at a homey level, we might use some day-to-day experiences to illustrate the "fullness of time" principle. We think, for example, of the cook who leaves the food in the oven until it is ready, which is at just a certain time. Take it out too early, and it is undercooked. Too late, and it is likely to be dry or burnt. "The fullness of time," you see, is the moment when everything is just right, and such was the timing of Christ's coming.
Next, having affirmed the timing of his coming, Paul highlights the context of Christ's coming. Jesus was born "of a woman" and "under the law." In other words, he was one of us. Both of those details are cited because both represent our condition.
Then on the heels of the timing and the context, Paul articulates the purpose of Christ's coming. He came "to redeem... so that we might receive adoption as children." We will give more thought to the profound adoption theme below. Meanwhile, the idea behind "redeem" in the ancient world was perhaps similar to our concept of ransom. That is to say, the redeemer was the one who paid "a price to recover from the power of another" (Strong's, #1805). Paul understood that spiritually we were under the power of another, and Christ was the one who paid the price to deliver us from that enemy and to retrieve us for himself.
Paul makes an interesting grammatical move in this passage. He writes that "God sent his son... in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children." Notice the abrupt change in pronouns. If we didn't know better, we might conclude that the coming of Christ did two different things for two different groups of people. On the one hand it redeemed them (i.e., "those who were under the law"), while offering to us "adoption as children." In truth, of course, it is not two different groups. Rather, mid-sentence Paul makes the irresistible shift to the personalization of the good news. It is not just them, you see; it is us.
Finally, we see how the redemption and the adoption combine to change our status. "You are no longer a slave but a child," Paul writes. The ransom paid frees us from our slavery, liberates us from the power of another. And the adoption brings us into a new and loving relationship, embraced and beloved as children of God.
Luke 2:22-40
This is the less familiar episode from the Christmas narrative. Our traditional tableaus feature the stable, not the temple. Our sentimental guests are wise men and shepherds, not Simeon and Anna. Yet Luke includes these two characters in the story of the baby Jesus, and unlike those familiar visitors to the manger, Simeon and Anna are known by name.
The occasion is a purification ritual prescribed by the law (Exodus 13:2, 12; Leviticus 12:8). Mary and Joseph's carefulness in this reminds us of Jesus' own choice to "fulfill all righteousness" (Matthew 3:15). And their presentation of pigeons reveals their poverty.
The ritual itself, however, does not prove to be the most compelling experience there in the temple. It may be the reason Joseph and Mary came, but it was not what grabbed the headlines in the end. Rather, these two bystanders become the story.
The first is Simeon, whom Luke describes three times with reference to the Holy Spirit: "the Holy Spirit rested on him," "it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit," and "guided by the Spirit." Even a casual student of the gospels will discover that the presence and work of the Spirit is a prominent theme for Luke. And the same author who tells us about the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost in Acts 2 is fully aware of and ready to affirm the Spirit's work prior to Pentecost as well.
Simeon serves as a kind of personification for Israel as a whole. We presume from his expressed readiness to "depart" that he was an old man. Yet he had received a promise of salvation from the Lord. Consequently, we imagine a person -- or a people, or a world -- who had waited a long time for Jesus. Now there is rejoicing at his arrival. If I were a filmmaker creating a movie based on Luke's gospel, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" would be my chosen theme music for the character of Simeon.
Simeon's statements about Jesus are remarkable and lay the groundwork for a solid Christology. His reference to the Gentiles is appropriate to the narrator and his subsequent volume, to be sure, but there in that context of the temple it is nearly scandalous. The phrase "all peoples," likewise, reflects the broad net that God's saving grace will cast, and it also recalls the angel's earlier declaration that the gospel message will be "great joy for all the people" (Luke 2:10). And, of course, Simeon's words directly to Mary are sober and touching. Lest anyone suspect that all people will receive this child with the same joy as Simeon, the prophetic words anticipate that Jesus will become "a sign that will be opposed." The prospect of a sword piercing this new, young mother's soul is poignant indeed.
The other character in the temple, Anna, does not have any recorded words in the account. Our sense, however, is that her praises echo the spirit and substance of what we have already learned about this child in the first two chapters. While we don't know the content of her message, we recognize in her the spirit of an evangelist as she "(speaks) about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem."
Finally, it is interesting to see the level of hope and relief that come from merely the certainty that God has begun to act. That is to say, there is nothing much more helpless and powerless than a newborn baby. How much can he do, therefore, to accomplish "the redemption of Jerusalem"?
Clearly the issue with this baby is not what he has done, but what he will do. And that alone is a cause for rejoicing. For the principle that we see at work not only here in Simeon and Anna, but earlier in the words of Elizabeth, then Mary, and then the Bethlehem angel, is that this baby is proof that God has already begun to act. The future is now. Salvation is not fully accomplished, but it is clearly begun.
Application
"I will greatly rejoice in the LORD," exclaims the prophet. "My whole being shall exult in my God." These are the words of one who is celebrating, to be sure. And it is no trivial celebration. This is not just a casual party on the patio around the grill. No, this speaker is wholly engaged in a heartfelt rejoicing.
If we don't feel that kind of head-to-toe joy on Memorial Day, that's to be expected. If we don't match that enthusiasm on Independence Day or Labor Day, that is not surprising. But on Christmas, on the other hand, this should be precisely the spirit of our celebration.
That is certainly the language and the tone of what we sing at this time of year. "Joy to the world"; "sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation"; "Good Christian friends, rejoice, with heart and soul and voice"; "gloria in excelsis Deo"; and more! Our lyrics and our tunes reflect the robust nature of our celebration.
If the Old Testament prophet captures the spirit of how you and I should celebrate at Christmas, perhaps that's because he was in touch with the reason that we should be celebrating at Christmas. That is, ironically, where we fall short, for we so easily lose sight of the reason for the party. "He has clothed me with the garments of salvation," the prophet testifies. "He has covered me with the robe of righteousness."
Simeon rejoiced because his eyes had seen God's salvation. You and I may go one, profound step further. We rejoice because we have experienced that salvation. So let's have a party indeed!
Alternative Applications
Galatians 4:4-7. "When Do You Tell the Kids?" Every parent of an adopted child -- particularly if the child was adopted at a very young age -- faces this question. When do you tell your child that he or she is adopted? And how do you do it?
For some parents, it is a smooth process and ongoing conversation. For others, it is a more dramatic and memorable moment. And the children respond differently too. Some take the news in stride, while others are traumatized.
As preachers, this may be our task this Sunday. The assigned passage from Paul's letter to the Galatians gives us the opportunity to tell our folks that they are adopted. And if your congregation is like mine, many of them don't know.
Most church folks I know operate with the assumption that they are God's children. For them, the designation comes with being human. We are all God's children, aren't we?
The logic is questionable however. What we know from scripture is that he created us, but he also created planets, mountains, and dogs. Do we presume that the planets are God's children? Can the dogs call him "Daddy"?
You may create a poem, a cake, or a treehouse, but none of them is your child by virtue of the fact that you made them. So our assumption that we are somehow automatically God's children is unfounded. Unless, that is, he chooses to adopt us.
That is the great, good news of Paul's message to the Galatians. It is especially good news for our people to hear because it expounds our understanding of the love of God. We flatter ourselves by assuming that we begin as his children. But we are humbled to discover that instead God has taken finite, blemished, and rebellious creatures and chosen to adopt us as his children, invited us to call him "Abba! Father," and made us joint heirs with his only-begotten Son.
We can only rejoice in the truth of what he has made us, however, if we begin with an understanding of where we begin. We do not begin as his children. And so this Sunday it's time to tell our folks the good news that they are adopted.
Luke 2:22-40. "Eye Witnessing." As Simeon holds the infant Jesus in his arms, he joyfully declares to God, "My eyes have seen your salvation." That's a big deal for Simeon. He had been waiting and watching. How many days had he awakened with hope? How many nights had he gone to sleep with that hope deferred (see Proverbs 13:12)? So when the moment comes that his arms finally hold and his eyes finally see God's salvation, it's a big deal for Simeon.
He declares "My eyes have seen your salvation," and that is a big deal for the New Testament too. The gospel message is not rooted in philosophical musings or theological assertions. Rather, it is rooted in historical events. God has stepped into history, and there were eyewitnesses. "You are witnesses of these things," Jesus told his disciples (Luke 24:48), which is exactly what Peter affirmed before the Council (Acts 5:32). It was also his assertion before the Pentecost crowd (Acts 2:32) and Cornelius' household (10:39-41). It is at the heart of Paul's accounting of resurrection appearances (1 Corinthians 15:3-8). And it is the issue of John's declaration "We have seen his glory" (John 1:14). It is absolutely central to the New Testament, therefore, that eyes have seen God's salvation.
When Simeon says "My eyes have seen your salvation," it is a big deal for us too. Our faith, after all, does not begin with us. It has been handed down to us by others. And if we trace back the line of our faith through all of our spiritual ancestors, we'll find ourselves back with those original eyewitnesses. Jesus anticipated us and the influence of their testimony on us when he prayed not only for them but for "those who will believe in me through their word" (John 17:20). Our faith is indebted to those whose eyes saw God's salvation.
So from time to time, we need to rediscover the reasons for all of our parties.
I think, for example, of the three national holidays that mark Americans' summers: Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day. The meaning that lies behind each is significant, yet it is easily lost. We are so caught up in our long weekends, our cookouts, and stores' holiday sales that we might party our way through all three holidays without giving a moment's attention to the underlying meaning of any of them.
Thanksgiving is another natural example. The context of the first thanksgiving and all that it represented is buried somewhere beneath the feasting and the football. Our forebears might vaguely recognize our tables on Thanksgiving but not our hearts.
Then there is Christmas. It is, by far, the holiday that we celebrate more than any other. Birthdays and anniversaries enjoy a day, or perhaps only a part of a day. Memorial Day and Labor Day get their three-day weekends. But Christmas dominates at least an entire month, and its festivities' leading edge keeps getting earlier and earlier. So we do a lot of celebrating at Christmas, yet we have largely lost sight of the reason for the party.
This isn't a lament over the commercialization of the holiday. Neither is it a trite reminder that we celebrate Jesus' birth. Rather, there is a deeper, fuller, gospel truth to be affirmed. For all of our parties, festivities, and celebrating trace back to genuine rejoicing. And the rejoicing, we rediscover, is all about salvation.
Isaiah 61:10--62:3
While most of the first half of the book of the prophet Isaiah is characterized by a tone of warning and the prospect of trouble, the second half has a different feel. Here, near the end of the book, the message is decidedly hopeful and promising. The text is very fluid with personal pronouns, and it is not always clear who is speaking or being addressed, but the tone for all involved is unmistakably positive.
Broadly speaking, the central issue of the entire passage is the activity of the Lord. That is the cause of the praise in the first portion, and that is the promise and expectation of the second portion. And that rough outline is well-suited to this season, for we rejoice today in the promise of God's saving activity fulfilled.
At the outset, the speaker is ebullient with rejoicing. This is not merely a good mood, however, or a happy circumstance. No, he is rejoicing "in the Lord" and exulting "in my God." Moods and circumstances change, but the Lord does not. Therefore, our rejoicing may be constant. We are reminded of Paul's encouragement from some centuries later: "Rejoice in the Lord always" (Philippians 4:4).
The image of being clothed by the Lord is not only picturesque but profound. From the very beginning (Genesis 3:21) to the very end (Revelation 3:5), the Lord is clothing his people. He covers, he adorns, and he honors us. And every stitch of it is more than what we deserve.
We note especially that "salvation" and "righteousness" come from the Lord. Seen through the lens of the New Testament, we recognize how prescient and profound this imagery is. Neither our salvation nor our righteousness is something that we acquire or put on for ourselves. They are his provision, and they come together. Thus, by his grace, our status and condition are suddenly and completely different.
The picturesque language continues. The quick reference to a bride and a bridegroom is meant only as a simile here, but we recognize immediately the appropriateness of the image in the context of our relationship with the Lord. Meanwhile, the gardening allusion brings to mind the larger biblical theme of fruition, as well as the principle that a thing that is functioning properly will naturally produce according to God's design what is pleasing to him.
As we turn the page to chapter 62, we meet the theme of vindication. At its worst, of course, the attitude of a person who is vindictive is a truly ugly thing. At its best, however, vindication is part of any perfect ending, for it sets the record straight about what is good and what is bad, what is true and what is false.
In this case, vindication and salvation are linked together, and they belong to Zion or Jerusalem. Yet like the salvation and righteousness we saw earlier, this vindication is not a human achievement. Jerusalem does not win her own vindication. Rather, again, this is the work of God, and as such it is the beautiful, divine act of setting things right.
Of course, on this particular Sunday the Christmas event and story are very much on our minds, and these words from the Old Testament prophet do not seem closely related to the stable and the manger. Yet we can imagine these words of rejoicing and affirmation coming from either Simeon or Anna. And we recognize the theme of salvation coming from God, who graciously intervenes to make things right.
Galatians 4:4-7
"The fullness of time" is a sermon unto itself. That phrase from Paul inspires much reflection on the providence of God across the board. We might explore the wisdom and perfection of his timing in sending Christ and that would remind us in turn of his providential timing in the lives and events of so many other characters in scripture, as well as our own.
Meanwhile, at a homey level, we might use some day-to-day experiences to illustrate the "fullness of time" principle. We think, for example, of the cook who leaves the food in the oven until it is ready, which is at just a certain time. Take it out too early, and it is undercooked. Too late, and it is likely to be dry or burnt. "The fullness of time," you see, is the moment when everything is just right, and such was the timing of Christ's coming.
Next, having affirmed the timing of his coming, Paul highlights the context of Christ's coming. Jesus was born "of a woman" and "under the law." In other words, he was one of us. Both of those details are cited because both represent our condition.
Then on the heels of the timing and the context, Paul articulates the purpose of Christ's coming. He came "to redeem... so that we might receive adoption as children." We will give more thought to the profound adoption theme below. Meanwhile, the idea behind "redeem" in the ancient world was perhaps similar to our concept of ransom. That is to say, the redeemer was the one who paid "a price to recover from the power of another" (Strong's, #1805). Paul understood that spiritually we were under the power of another, and Christ was the one who paid the price to deliver us from that enemy and to retrieve us for himself.
Paul makes an interesting grammatical move in this passage. He writes that "God sent his son... in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children." Notice the abrupt change in pronouns. If we didn't know better, we might conclude that the coming of Christ did two different things for two different groups of people. On the one hand it redeemed them (i.e., "those who were under the law"), while offering to us "adoption as children." In truth, of course, it is not two different groups. Rather, mid-sentence Paul makes the irresistible shift to the personalization of the good news. It is not just them, you see; it is us.
Finally, we see how the redemption and the adoption combine to change our status. "You are no longer a slave but a child," Paul writes. The ransom paid frees us from our slavery, liberates us from the power of another. And the adoption brings us into a new and loving relationship, embraced and beloved as children of God.
Luke 2:22-40
This is the less familiar episode from the Christmas narrative. Our traditional tableaus feature the stable, not the temple. Our sentimental guests are wise men and shepherds, not Simeon and Anna. Yet Luke includes these two characters in the story of the baby Jesus, and unlike those familiar visitors to the manger, Simeon and Anna are known by name.
The occasion is a purification ritual prescribed by the law (Exodus 13:2, 12; Leviticus 12:8). Mary and Joseph's carefulness in this reminds us of Jesus' own choice to "fulfill all righteousness" (Matthew 3:15). And their presentation of pigeons reveals their poverty.
The ritual itself, however, does not prove to be the most compelling experience there in the temple. It may be the reason Joseph and Mary came, but it was not what grabbed the headlines in the end. Rather, these two bystanders become the story.
The first is Simeon, whom Luke describes three times with reference to the Holy Spirit: "the Holy Spirit rested on him," "it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit," and "guided by the Spirit." Even a casual student of the gospels will discover that the presence and work of the Spirit is a prominent theme for Luke. And the same author who tells us about the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost in Acts 2 is fully aware of and ready to affirm the Spirit's work prior to Pentecost as well.
Simeon serves as a kind of personification for Israel as a whole. We presume from his expressed readiness to "depart" that he was an old man. Yet he had received a promise of salvation from the Lord. Consequently, we imagine a person -- or a people, or a world -- who had waited a long time for Jesus. Now there is rejoicing at his arrival. If I were a filmmaker creating a movie based on Luke's gospel, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" would be my chosen theme music for the character of Simeon.
Simeon's statements about Jesus are remarkable and lay the groundwork for a solid Christology. His reference to the Gentiles is appropriate to the narrator and his subsequent volume, to be sure, but there in that context of the temple it is nearly scandalous. The phrase "all peoples," likewise, reflects the broad net that God's saving grace will cast, and it also recalls the angel's earlier declaration that the gospel message will be "great joy for all the people" (Luke 2:10). And, of course, Simeon's words directly to Mary are sober and touching. Lest anyone suspect that all people will receive this child with the same joy as Simeon, the prophetic words anticipate that Jesus will become "a sign that will be opposed." The prospect of a sword piercing this new, young mother's soul is poignant indeed.
The other character in the temple, Anna, does not have any recorded words in the account. Our sense, however, is that her praises echo the spirit and substance of what we have already learned about this child in the first two chapters. While we don't know the content of her message, we recognize in her the spirit of an evangelist as she "(speaks) about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem."
Finally, it is interesting to see the level of hope and relief that come from merely the certainty that God has begun to act. That is to say, there is nothing much more helpless and powerless than a newborn baby. How much can he do, therefore, to accomplish "the redemption of Jerusalem"?
Clearly the issue with this baby is not what he has done, but what he will do. And that alone is a cause for rejoicing. For the principle that we see at work not only here in Simeon and Anna, but earlier in the words of Elizabeth, then Mary, and then the Bethlehem angel, is that this baby is proof that God has already begun to act. The future is now. Salvation is not fully accomplished, but it is clearly begun.
Application
"I will greatly rejoice in the LORD," exclaims the prophet. "My whole being shall exult in my God." These are the words of one who is celebrating, to be sure. And it is no trivial celebration. This is not just a casual party on the patio around the grill. No, this speaker is wholly engaged in a heartfelt rejoicing.
If we don't feel that kind of head-to-toe joy on Memorial Day, that's to be expected. If we don't match that enthusiasm on Independence Day or Labor Day, that is not surprising. But on Christmas, on the other hand, this should be precisely the spirit of our celebration.
That is certainly the language and the tone of what we sing at this time of year. "Joy to the world"; "sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation"; "Good Christian friends, rejoice, with heart and soul and voice"; "gloria in excelsis Deo"; and more! Our lyrics and our tunes reflect the robust nature of our celebration.
If the Old Testament prophet captures the spirit of how you and I should celebrate at Christmas, perhaps that's because he was in touch with the reason that we should be celebrating at Christmas. That is, ironically, where we fall short, for we so easily lose sight of the reason for the party. "He has clothed me with the garments of salvation," the prophet testifies. "He has covered me with the robe of righteousness."
Simeon rejoiced because his eyes had seen God's salvation. You and I may go one, profound step further. We rejoice because we have experienced that salvation. So let's have a party indeed!
Alternative Applications
Galatians 4:4-7. "When Do You Tell the Kids?" Every parent of an adopted child -- particularly if the child was adopted at a very young age -- faces this question. When do you tell your child that he or she is adopted? And how do you do it?
For some parents, it is a smooth process and ongoing conversation. For others, it is a more dramatic and memorable moment. And the children respond differently too. Some take the news in stride, while others are traumatized.
As preachers, this may be our task this Sunday. The assigned passage from Paul's letter to the Galatians gives us the opportunity to tell our folks that they are adopted. And if your congregation is like mine, many of them don't know.
Most church folks I know operate with the assumption that they are God's children. For them, the designation comes with being human. We are all God's children, aren't we?
The logic is questionable however. What we know from scripture is that he created us, but he also created planets, mountains, and dogs. Do we presume that the planets are God's children? Can the dogs call him "Daddy"?
You may create a poem, a cake, or a treehouse, but none of them is your child by virtue of the fact that you made them. So our assumption that we are somehow automatically God's children is unfounded. Unless, that is, he chooses to adopt us.
That is the great, good news of Paul's message to the Galatians. It is especially good news for our people to hear because it expounds our understanding of the love of God. We flatter ourselves by assuming that we begin as his children. But we are humbled to discover that instead God has taken finite, blemished, and rebellious creatures and chosen to adopt us as his children, invited us to call him "Abba! Father," and made us joint heirs with his only-begotten Son.
We can only rejoice in the truth of what he has made us, however, if we begin with an understanding of where we begin. We do not begin as his children. And so this Sunday it's time to tell our folks the good news that they are adopted.
Luke 2:22-40. "Eye Witnessing." As Simeon holds the infant Jesus in his arms, he joyfully declares to God, "My eyes have seen your salvation." That's a big deal for Simeon. He had been waiting and watching. How many days had he awakened with hope? How many nights had he gone to sleep with that hope deferred (see Proverbs 13:12)? So when the moment comes that his arms finally hold and his eyes finally see God's salvation, it's a big deal for Simeon.
He declares "My eyes have seen your salvation," and that is a big deal for the New Testament too. The gospel message is not rooted in philosophical musings or theological assertions. Rather, it is rooted in historical events. God has stepped into history, and there were eyewitnesses. "You are witnesses of these things," Jesus told his disciples (Luke 24:48), which is exactly what Peter affirmed before the Council (Acts 5:32). It was also his assertion before the Pentecost crowd (Acts 2:32) and Cornelius' household (10:39-41). It is at the heart of Paul's accounting of resurrection appearances (1 Corinthians 15:3-8). And it is the issue of John's declaration "We have seen his glory" (John 1:14). It is absolutely central to the New Testament, therefore, that eyes have seen God's salvation.
When Simeon says "My eyes have seen your salvation," it is a big deal for us too. Our faith, after all, does not begin with us. It has been handed down to us by others. And if we trace back the line of our faith through all of our spiritual ancestors, we'll find ourselves back with those original eyewitnesses. Jesus anticipated us and the influence of their testimony on us when he prayed not only for them but for "those who will believe in me through their word" (John 17:20). Our faith is indebted to those whose eyes saw God's salvation.
