Though Luke is a Gentile, a Christian, and one of Paul’s key helpers, and, as such, probably not very concerned with the details of Jewish law, he nonetheless is careful to help his readers understand that Jesus is very much raised in and according to the Law.  Jesus came not to abolish but to fulfill the Law.  Because he fulfills it, all who entrust themselves to him have the benefit of his fulfillment.  We aren’t obligated to do all the law, thank God!  But while we are not under the Law nor obligated to do the Law, the curious thing about life in Christ is that our Spirit-guided hearts continually have the desire to live God’s way, even with all the obstacles, distractions, failings and failures that beleaguer us throughout this earthly life.  We hope; we continue in faith.

We can do this in part, maybe in large part, because we are assured, in powerful ways, that God does not loathe us but loves us.  When we ourselves feel the need for proof, or if others challenge us to produce proof, we point to Jesus.  Christians are always pointing to Jesus through our words, our choices, our actions, our prayers.  A Christian life looks like something: heartfelt obedience to Christ, God’s Word; not perfect obedience, heartfelt obedience.

Luke mentions “the purification rites” (2:22), which come several weeks after Mary gave birth.  Leviticus tells us the purification rites are for the mother.  No explanation is ever given, but the matter seems to involve deep things of blood, of life and of death.  If you’ve been there to see a birth, and if you’ve given birth, you know this blessed mystery involves the most basic things of the body, and much organic . . . stuff.  Birth is amazing, wonderful, and you kind of want someone to come clean up, after.  These purification rites come where there has been much organic stuff; the rites are a deep reminder that the only one who can truly clean us up, who causes the wonder and has the power, is God.  The rites are a reminder to come before God, cast ourselves down, and ask Him to do for us what He only can do.

Unintentionally and sometimes intentionally, we kick ourselves out of God’s company.  We like to think that, most of the time, if we kick ourselves out, it’s because of things beyond our control.  So, it’s not really our fault.  Scripture tells us that, most of the time, we willingly kick ourselves out of God’s company and it really is our fault.  We misuse our freedom.  We misuse God’s blessings.  We allow the disorderliness in our hearts to have its way.

When things get messy, we come to God, mess and all, and beg Him to receive us, again.  God who is holy wants us before Him in holiness, not smelly and smeared with the mud in which we’ve freely wallowed.  Living according to the Law was intended in part to help keep us in holiness—a place of safety, security.  Living God’s way always will help our journey to holiness.  Why do we allow ourselves to get sidetracked?  How is it we keep switching out God’s way for our way?  We so want God to see things our way, and we get into serious trouble when we tell ourselves He does.

In addition to Mary’s purification rites, the new parents also take their first-born child “to present him to the Lord” (2:22): also an expectation of the law.  God gave, and God is pleased when there is acknowledgment and gratitude for His good gifts.  There is something special attached to the first: the first crop, the first harvest, the first calf, lamb, or foal, the first child.  “Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord” (2:23, see Ex 13:2, Num 3:13).  It’s our labor, but it’s God’s grace.  God speaks His gracious Word.  What word of grace do we say in reply?  Do you save saying grace for your evening meal, your family meal, or do you offer up some thanks to God at each meal?  What good thing do we have that was not given to us?

Joseph and Mary go to Jerusalem, to the Temple, to offer thanks; Luke’s telling doesn’t make the matter entirely clear, but it seems Joseph and Mary were still in Bethlehem when they went up to Jerusalem, about a two-hour walk.  The purification period takes forty days.  Forty days in Bethlehem is a long time to linger.  Joseph was not a wealthy man.  We don’t know how they spent that time: where they stayed, how they paid for food and lodging for that month.  I suppose we’re being asked to have faith that God saw to their needs.  I don’t doubt He did.  Though they may have had very little to spare, they had enough and knew it; they did not lack, and they gave heartfelt thanks.  We tell ourselves we need—that in fact we deserve—many things, but only one is necessary.

All this section of Luke’s account is about thanks, which isn’t just a matter of gratitude but also of contentment, confidence, and faith.  I have to suppose that we’ve all been through times and seasons of hardship, when we really had no idea how we would be able to make it another month, another week.  Somehow, we did.

Well, how isn’t “somehow”: it was God.  With God, no matter the hardship facing us, we can always face life with gratitude, contentment, and confidence.  Not that we always do, but we can, we can decide to, choose to, and this, also, is the gift of God: grace.  It’s when we keep ourselves at God’s feet that He continues to lift us up.

Luke gives us two powerful examples of this blessed truth in what he tells us today.  He tells us about two elderly people, Simeon and Anna.  Both had seen a lot of life, and it hadn’t been all so happy or easy for either of them.  They had lived long enough to see the hardness of the world and the hardness of heart around them, sometimes even within.  And the Spirit comes to soften hearts, to calm, counsel, heal, and to bless, and, always, to remind—God’s grace is over all and always there, even if we can’t seem to see it, don’t feel it.  It’s not about feelings.  It’s about faith.  We want to feel.  God wants faith.

At the end of Mark’s account, we hear of the Word-confirming signs.  Simeon and Anna knew that God provides Word-confirming signs; over long years, they had learned to look, to see, to praise.  They had been shown how.  And they learned to wait.  They had been shown how.  Oh, why can’t it happen now; why can’t we have it now?  Why must we wait?!  Because, beloved, God would draw us into His wisdom, and His is a waiting wisdom.  God is love and we love that.  God also is patient.  Might we, also, be?

Simeon knew there would be good news.  He lived in expectation, which means he also tried to keep himself ready, keep his heart attuned to God, to God’s Word, keep his life conscientiously directed toward God through worship, through acts of kindness, compassion, charity towards those whom God had placed around Simeon.  Luke tells us that “the Holy Spirit was on him” (2:25).  Do you know the Spirit is upon you, too?  Your love for Jesus—that’s the Spirit.  Your choice to be here today rather than pursuing other pursuits—that’s the Spirit.  Your hope in the Lord—that’s the Spirit.  Your desire to do something good, even big, for the Lord—the Spirit.

How did Simeon just happen to be there at the Temple on the very day and at the very time the fulfillment of his hopes and long waiting would arrive?  How did it just happen that there at the Temple, in a space that could easily accommodate thousands, Simeon and that young couple crossed paths?  The Spirit.  “Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts.  When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God” (2:27-28).  I’m always a little stunned, probably just like Joseph and Mary, that Simeon—a total stranger—takes the baby boy in his arms, but we’re not told that Joseph or Mary protested; they, also, perceived that the Spirit was at work.  They also were learning to prepare themselves for many surprises, and blessings.  They were learning faith.

The old man, happy, fully ready now to go to the Lord in boisterous praise, rejoicing in the great goodness of God, has deep, serious words for the young father and mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed” (2:34-35).  We like the rising part—Lord, lift us!  But the falling?  Jesus is destined to cause the falling of many?  How are we to make sense of that?  How are we to feel, hearing that?  Maybe we can just, you know, overlook or ignore that part?

I’m sad to have to say, beloved, that all we need do is look around us and listen carefully to understand what Simeon is saying.  Aside from the name Donald Trump, I doubt there’s any name at the moment that causes such strong reactions as the name Jesus.  It’s John who tells us, again and again, that all who call on Jesus shall be saved, and all who turn away must fall.  Spoken against, rejected.  It’s easy to reject Christ, beloved, and it doesn’t have to be an angry rejection.  Most often, it’s an indifferent rejection.  “Jesus, huh?  I guess he’s alright for you.  He just isn’t for me.”  Period.  End of conversation.  Move along.  The thoughts of many will be revealed.  Why no interest in Jesus?   You’ll learn so much, when you begin to learn the answers to that question.  God will have conversations with you, then.

“There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher.  She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, and then was a widow until she was eighty-four.  She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying” (2:36-37).  A prophet does not so much tell the future as recall people to God’s Word: hear, remember, think.  God used the prophets as His voice among a people that preferred not to hear, that preferred to practice their own religion their own way.  From what Luke tells us, Anna had lived a very long life, most of it as a widow.  Here she was in the Temple, which seems practically to have become her home.  She has lived a long life, and though a widow, apparently with no children, she hasn’t been alone, or lonely.  She had lived all those years with God, devoted her life, her labor, her attention and love to God, worshipping “night and day, fasting and praying.”  Maybe that doesn’t sound like much of a life, yet I somehow imagine her just glowing with joy and peace.  She had learned—by grace—how to set her heart upon God rather than the things of this world.  Amen!  You and I both know how the things of this world call and seem so imperiously to require our immediate, full attention.  The world is always calling us away from God.  Better things to do.  Maybe if we all practiced a little more fasting and praying, we’d discover that peace and joy we keep talking about and wishing for.

Simeon gives back the baby and goes on his way, singing prayers of joy in awe-filled wonder of God who fulfills His promises and reveals His glory, and then Anna came “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” (2:38).  Liberation is nearer now than it has ever been.  We’re eager for some big changes: nationally, economically, politically, Lord willing, socially and even culturally, and also, always, personally.  The thing about change, though, is that we must take responsibility for an active part in it: an active participant in the covenant we make, the promise we make to ourselves, and then must keep.  If we are eagerly awaiting God’s promised redemption, let us each take an active part in laboring in the sure hope of that redemption.  Anna saw the child, knew what he meant for her and everyone.  She thanked God with fullness of heart—she knew God was always at work, and now she had undeniably seen God at work, seen the fruit of God’s work, and she just had to go and tell.

Beloved, I need to challenge myself, and I’m challenging you, too, to make it a point over the new year to invite four, or even only two people to come see what this Jesus thing is all about, here.  Follow up with them.  Don’t be a pest.  Pray about it.  Let’s get clear about our motive for invitation and follow up.  The aim isn’t to double our numbers or our budget!  The aim is to bring Christ to people around us, and to bring people around us to Christ, as the Spirit permits.  Let us share with these people what being part of this congregation means to us.  Share what Jesus has done for us—what he is doing for you.  Why do you care about Jesus?

I’m also challenging all of us, especially our young disciples, to get into our Bibles in the new year.  What we’re doing here this morning, necessary as I think it is, is not sufficient for robust, thriving spiritual health.  We all need to be reading the Bible, regularly.  We all need to pray, daily: let God lift your heart, and He will lift it.  We mustn’t neglect to gather for worship—there’s a challenge, I know.  We’re busy!  We’re tired!  I know.  But we’ve just got to gather, be together as the congregation, reinvesting ourselves, sharing with one another, caring about one another, letting ourselves be cared about, praising God together.  Beloved, let us love one another.  In this we know the Spirit, who will increase us in faith and teach us all truth.