For the aged who have kept watch for the consolation.

Simeon stood on the wall of a long night, a watchman whose eyes had learned to strain into the dark. For decades he had looked for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit had whispered a promise: he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. The promise had been his lantern through the years. Then, in the temple, the parents bring in a child, and Simeon takes him into his arms. The night is not explained; it is ended. The dawn is a baby.

The logic of his song is startling. He does not ask for more days; he asks for release. "Now you are releasing your servant, Master, according to your word, in peace." Peace comes because his eyes have seen God's salvation, prepared before the face of all peoples. I confess that my own waiting has often been a clenched fist, demanding a timeline, when Simeon shows me an open palm that receives a promise. The child is the promise, and the promise is enough.

That child would grow to be the Light for revelation to the nations, but the brightest beam of that light would come from the cross and the empty tomb. The salvation Simeon held in his arms would be accomplished through the pierced hands and the rolled-away stone. So our peace is not in a longer life or a clearer explanation; it is in the Christ who was crucified and raised. The peace of release comes when the promise is held, not when the night is explained.