I was inspired to write this Christmas poem from the passage in Luke 2:25-32, and by Michael Card's song, "Now That I've Held Him In My Arms." Simeon, an aged man, probably in his nineties, very godly and filled with the Holy Spirit, was promised that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah. This poem is my imagination of the life of this man as he waited for the fulfillment of this promise.
The road down
from the old man’s house
Was a mass of
baked earth,
Bearing the
footprints of many years,
An
accumulation of decade’s pilgrimages.
Then, the old
man’s legs could support his weight
And his steps
were firmer and the walk easier to navigate
The distance
was never covered with any pain,
Neither were
the steep hills climbed with any strain.
Through miles
and miles of wheat farms,
The road runs south
from Ephraim, and curves to the right,
Climbing into
a sharp ascent that led to the temple.
Every Sabbath,
for many years,
The old man
ascended that hill,
To feed his
hope upon the only standing monument,
Of the
presence and promises of Yahweh:
The magnificent
temple that stood at the heart of the city of Jerusalem.
Now with a humped
back,
And weakening knees,
A constant
reminder that he was no longer young,
The weekly
pilgrimage to the temple left his body in pain,
As each step
became a laboured effort.
That filled
his lungs with discomfort.
But the voice
he heard 25 years earlier still echoed in his mind,
“Simeon,
Simeon, your eyes will not close in death,
Until they
have seen the Lord’s Christ!”
Yes, those are
the words he had heard.
Dawn and dusk have
come and gone,
Further
weakening his already deteriorating body,
But not once dimming
his hope,
That one day,
Israel will receive her consolation;
That one day, Israel
will live again,
And that God
shall reveal Himself to the Gentiles.
Under the
shadows cast by the cedar trees,
Spread around his
house,
He sat on his
chair, his hands upon his aching knees,
And prayed
that dusk and dawn
Would hasten
the coming of that longed-for day.
Though he
could hardly walk now,
Not a single
frown ever crossed his brow.
His lips
always muttered a prayer,
“One more time O, Lord, One more time,
Let these weakened legs become young
again,
That they might walk yonder and see the
light and glory of Israel.”
The people around
always gazed upon the old man with wonder,
His
fascination with prophecy made him their unwelcome preacher,
Their hearts,
never at all warmed by his words,
But remained
cold and numb.
“Simeon,” they
said. “Do you still hold on to your dream?
Do you believe
the sun’s rays shall again upon Israel beam?
And will you
live to see the day our God will visit us?”
The old man closed
his weakening eyes as if he dosed,
And looked
upon them with pity,
And with a
tremour in his voice, he measured his answer,
In the
mingling of His pain and pleasure.
“The bright rays
of light and hope,” he said, “shall not fade.”
“Yahweh will
not, Yahweh cannot His promises forget.”
It’s been half
a year since he last went to the temple,
His heart now
aching,
That he could
not join the faithful ones,
The devout
ones in whom the Spirit of God dwelt,
Those who by,
the altar, daily knelt,
And believed
all the promises of Yahweh.
Again, that
silent prayer touched his lips:
“One more time O, Lord, One more time,
Let these weakened legs become young
again,
That they might walk yonder and see the
light and glory of Israel.
And when the months stretch into years
And decades gather up the tears,
Lord, let me see your glory.”
That night,
the old man went to bed with a smile on his face,
His heart bursting
inside with God’s grace,
Hard as he
tried, he could not sleep.
The love that
flooded his soul was deep.
Soon, the
sun’s warm rays diffused in where he lay,
And, he got
out up and knelt down to pray.
The orange
glow of the rising sun,
Sent a flood
of light into the room,
And sprayed a
molten orange-hued flow on the eastern horizon.
The old man
stepped out, bubbling with a joy never before felt,
He watched the
rising sun, and felt the thrill of what he beheld,
He scanned the
near deserted road to Jerusalem,
And the grass
blades in the fields that seemed to dance with abandon.
He leaned
against the wooden beam
And watched a
dream
Unfold before
his weakened eyes,
He raised his
hands to heaven and smiled,
Amazed that 25
years had not broken the
Power and hope
in the promise he received.
Now, there was
a growing urge,
A discernible voice
that was prompting him to move,
And to step
out in faith, and God’s promise to prove,
“Would this be
the day, O Lord, would this be the day?”
He wondered.
He felt the mighty
arm
Of God lift him
into the light
Of Truth, and all
his fears put to flight.
He got up, his
heart certain that this was the day,
And that God
was showing him the way
To the
consolation of Israel,
The wondrous
infant who would reverse Adam’s curse,
And bring
healing in its place,
The feeble and
weak legs became young again,
And with a
stride firm and sure,
He climbed the
steep hill to Jerusalem again,
Strengthened
by the power of faith,
Borne along on
the wings of hope.
When he
stepped into the temple,
There was an
unusual sense of the presence of God.
And then he
saw them in the morning sunshine,
A couple
walking in, carrying a baby
All at once,
he knew, the glory of Israel had come.
Sacred infant,
all divine,
In whose life,
the world shall rejoice.
He walked over
to the young couple,
Took the baby
in his arms
And burst
forth in praise to God:
“Now that I've held Him in my arms
My life can now come to an end,
Lord, let Your servant now depart in
peace
Because I've seen Your salvation
A Light of the Gentiles
And the glory of His people Israel.”
He had never
felt more peaceful,
And never had
life been more meaningful.
Lord, nothing
prepares us more for death than an encounter, by faith with the Lord Jesus
Christ. Let someone come face to face with Jesus Christ today.
