With Those Who Waited: An Advent Journey

Advent—the threshold of the Christian Year—invites us to remember what it means to wait. Among those who recognised and welcomed God in Jesus were two who waited, Simeon and Anna. They are forerunners in the faith, living lives that were deeply patient and alert for God’s rescue. To keep company with them, and to consider their example, is to be drawn into the gift of faithful, confident waiting: as Christ’s resurrection and the gift of the Holy Spirit assure us, God will indeed make all things new, all things right.

Here, Michelle Young helps us to ponder Anna and Simeon. She invites us to let their lives illuminate our hearts and actions, for the good of God’s troubled world. First offered at the 2025 Venn Advent gatherings, these reflections were originally woven through with Scripture and song, curated with the help of Donald Goodhall. We’ve replicated that weaving of words and music here.

May this compose an Advent journey for you, one in which, like Anna and Simeon, you are freed to live in the assurance that God has indeed done what he said he would—and the future is secure. Ed.

I

There is a picture that hangs on my wall at home. It is an abstract painting in which I see a sea of white reaching out to meet a golden horizon. Over the horizon is what seems to be a wall of water ascending upward into the sky.

When I first saw it, my mind went to a scene from the story of the Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. The story, as you may know, is about a sea voyage quest to discover what has become of the seven lost lords of Narnia who were persuaded by the tyrant Miraz to go looking for new lands in the Eastern Ocean, and who—as Miraz intended—had never returned. Onboard the ship is Reepicheep, a small and valiant mouse, who wields a tiny but very effective sword. He has joined the voyage in the hopes of reaching Aslan’s Country, which he believes is to be found beyond the seas of the “utter East”. His eyes are set on the horizon as he searches for that country, and for Aslan, the one on whom all his hopes rest.

There is a moment deep in the story where Lewis describes Reepicheep setting off from the Dawn Treader. The ship has taken him as far as it can. Reepicheap, quivering with joy, pushes off in a tiny boat, making the final leg of the journey alone. As he comes to the edge of the world, he glides through a sea of golden lilies to meet an ascending waterfall, the entrance to Aslan’s land. This is the moment that comes to mind for me as I ponder the painting on my wall. As I look, I imagine Reepicheep here, about to cross the threshold.

The painting is a reminder to me of my life with Christ and the days in which I live. I live on this side of the waterfall: I sense the golden horizon of the fulness of life with God; and I get glimpses of it breaking in; but my life is on this side. I live here, in this world, even as my hope rests beyond the watery veil in the life to come.

All this speaks to our life in time. For Christians, time is understood in light of this reality. We live in this world waiting for the future God promises where all things will be made new. We wait for his kingdom to break in—fully and finally. Christ’s life opens a door in the wall of history, a door into a future of fulness and life; the Holy Spirit—so freely given by God to all who accept Jesus as Lord—is a downpayment, a deposit guaranteeing this life to come. And so those who follow him mark our days not merely with the cyclical calendar or atomic clock time, but with Jesus’s life: his birth, ministry, death and resurrection. Each year we remember the long days of waiting before Christ came, we celebrate Christmas and his birth; we follow him through Lent into Holy Week and Good Friday; on Easter Day we rejoice in his victory over death and the promise of our resurrection; we mark the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost; we live through the many weeks of ordinary time, as we live out our lives before him. Christ’s life re-centres our understanding of time and determines our rhythms together.

Here, we are on the threshold of the Christian year that starts with the season of Advent. Four weeks lie before us, four weeks in which we remember the long days of waiting before his birth. We join with those who waited in the darkness for him come. Through long years they waited for God to send one who would rescue them from sin and death and darkness and make a way for them to be united with him as he had promised.

In this season of Advent we’re invited to remember what it means to wait for God, to long for God. We are invited to remember those who lived long ago in a darkness that seemed to cover the whole world, those who believed that God would fulfil his promise to send one who could rescue them, those who never gave up hoping or waiting or looking for the light. This invitation—to remember what it means to wait—is one of the great gifts of Advent.

And so, as we step into this season let us for a moment remember the days before Christ, and consider those who waited for him.

Beginning with the song above, we invite you here to linger with the following Scriptures. Ponder them. Read them aloud. Let their posture of confidence in the midst of waiting minister to your heart, and teach you to pray. 

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth give way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea…

“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Psalm 46:1-2; 10-11

The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?

You have said, “Seek my face.”
My heart says to you, “Your face, Lord, do I seek.”
Hide not your face from me.

I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.

Psalm 27:1; 8-9a;13-14

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.

Lamentations 3:25-26

…as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord,
I wait for God my Saviour; my God will hear me.

Micah 7:7

Out of God’s deepest mercy
a dawn will come from on high,
light for those shadowed by death,
a guide for our feet on the way to peace.

Luke 1:78-79

II

In Luke’s gospel we meet two people whose lives were also marked by waiting. Their lives bridged the years before and after Christ’s coming.

They lived in Jerusalem, that city that had seen the glory days of Israel, when justice ruled and God’s very presence had filled the temple. But the foolishness of kings and the people had led to dark days and to its demise. Israel had been exiled, and the temple where God once dwelt had been destroyed. Exile was now over, and the city had been pieced back together, but it seemed that God had not returned to make his home among them. Jerusalem was a shadow of itself, and many wondered what the future held.

It is here, in this city, that we find a man and a woman, waiting, longing, filled with hope that God would return as he promised long ago. I want to draw our attention to these two figures, and to consider what they might teach us this Advent season.

I invite you to read and take in their story:

And when the time came for their purification according to the Law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, “Every male who first opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord”) and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the Law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.” Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation
that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel.”

And his father and his mother marvelled at what was said about him. And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

And when they had performed everything according to the Law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. And the child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom. And the favour of God was upon him.

Luke 2:22-40

Simeon and Anna. Who are these two and how might their way in the world inform ours, as those who also live, waiting some 2000 years later, between Christ’s coming and Christ’s return? Let us come to Simeon first.

The gospel writer, Luke, introduces Simeon with a five-fold description that reveals to us not so much what he did, but more importantly, who he was. Born in Jerusalem, Simeon’s name speaks to us of “one who hears”—this, in a city deaf to the things of God. He was righteous and devout. Patient. He is described as one who was waiting for the consolation of Israel. In this waiting he cultivated a life that was open and attentive to God. He lived attuned to God, and to the Holy Spirit who rested upon him.¹

Led by the Spirit he came to the temple on the day that Jesus was brought by his parents to be dedicated. Simeon’s eyes locked upon the child and he recognised him. Having devoted his life to God and having searched for Christ for many days, the old man saw in this wee babe what he had been looking for for so long. Into his arms he took the child Jesus. And acting as a priest to the King of Kings, he blessed him and then he proclaimed the ultimate words of a prophet: Salvation is here, in the presence of all people, a light for revelation, God with us. Behold: Jesus! He had entered his creation and now rested in the arms of a righteous and devout man.

The word of God had been fulfilled. Simeon’s eyes had seen salvation, that for which he had waited. He could now depart in peace.

This is Simeon; so, what of Anna? Anna is a counterpart to Simeon. Her life is linked to Simeon’s with a simple “and”: And there was a prophetess, Anna. Anna. Her name, her office as a prophetess, and her life, speak of the “Grace of God”.

Eighty-four years old, she had lived at the temple from the time of her husband’s death. It was a place of sanctuary for one such as herself, a widow from a displaced tribe in Northern Israel. But the temple was more than that; for her, it was a chosen place, a place of devotion where she could worship and fast and pray, day and night. In this place her life, like Simeon’s, was lived alive and attuned to God. Many were the years since her husband’s death, and many were the years she had spent wholly devoted to God.

And this leads her to be there, at the moment Simeon took Jesus into his arms. She, along with Simeon, is drawn to the place where the Christ child is, God with us. And her response in the moment is a counterpart to Simeon’s. While he leans in, holding the Lord, she steps out. She doesn’t speak with Mary and Joseph, or take Jesus in her arms; instead, she gives thanks to God for the gift that is now among us. And she goes out to speak of Jesus to the many who were waiting for news of God’s redemption. In this, Anna the prophetess is the first evangelist. In that moment she too acts in blessing: she does “what she had spent her whole life doing: talking to God about people and to people about God.” ² Indeed, simply by her life as it is briefly given to us here, she continues to point us to God’s faithfulness, to God’s redeeming work among us, and to Jesus, God with us.

III

Simeon and Anna. Both were people who waited and longed for Christ to come.

They knew the brokenness of this world in their lives and in the cities and communities of which they were a part. Simeon in Jerusalem, with its rebuilt walls and a rebuilt temple that was a shadow of its former self. Anna, part of a tribe returned from exile but with nowhere to go, herself a widow whose dreams of family life were long gone. Yet, these things were not ultimate for them. They knew that there is a future that stretches out beyond the horizon of our deaths. They knew God and believed him when he said he would send one to rescue them, to make a way for them. And so, they lived actively in the waiting. They continued to devote their lives to him, they looked for him, and they held onto hope, confidently expecting the day would come when darkness would give way to light. All these things sustained them in their waiting.

There are lessons for us here as we contemplate their steadfast waiting, their hope-filled, expectant waiting. There are lessons for us to as we contemplate their response to the revelation of the Christ-child. We see a marvellous witness in the utter assurance of their response: when Jesus is brought to the temple, they are ready. At that point, they have no questions; they are not wondering if Jesus is really the one. They have so lived their lives in the presence of God, seeking the things of God, that even in the most unexpected place, the vulnerable face of baby, they recognise him: God has come to be with them.

Their response is immediate. Simeon is ready to bless him, and Anna is ready to offer her thanks and to tell the people, to herald his coming to all those who have waited and longed for the coming of the messiah and the redemption of the world. I imagine them filled with joy, bright-eyed, delighting in the assurance that God has done what he said he would. The future is secure.

As you listen to “Simeon’s Song” by The Porter’s Gate collective, ponder Simeon and Anna and their faithful, ready response to God’s saving work in Jesus:

IV

So, what is our response. How might we be encouraged to live in this Advent season?

As we turn to the next four weeks of Advent
and remember those days before the birth of Jesus,
when his name was not known,
let us think about, and feel, the waiting and longing that filled them.
Let us remember those people who waited with such faithfulness and devotion to God,
who in their waiting were strengthened to live out their days on this earth,
knowing only the hope of the Messiah.

 Let us contemplate Anna and Simeon,
and the window that we are given into their lives.
Let us be encouraged by their long devotion to God
and by their cultivation of lives attentive to him.
They lived lives that were patient and sustained through the ups and downs of life.
They had senses that were honed to the ways of God.
Because of this, they had eyes to see the gift of God when it was revealed to them,
and a willingness to boldly proclaim God’s coming,
God’s salvation: God with us.

Finally, let us consider our own response to God.
For Advent calls us to weigh and ponder our own discipleship: our devotion; our faithfulness.
Are we willing to follow after those who have gone before us in the faith?
Are we willing to cultivate long lives of devotion that are responsive to the Holy Spirit?
Are we willing to wait faithfully for the promises of God to be filled,
whether we see them in this life or in the promised life to come?
And will we order our days according to his time? Will we hold onto hope? Will we serve him?
Will we love him to the end of the world,
quivering with joy as we reach the horizon,
and the door to the country of God’s purposes fulfilled?

Let us make our response ready,
and ask God now for all we need for the journey ahead.

¹ Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives, 83.
² Sarah Williams, “Anna, the Prophetess”, Common Ground.