Day 2789 – A Sacrifice, A Savior, a Sword – Luke 2:21-38

Putnam Church Message – 12/28/2025

Last week, we continued our year-long study of Luke’s Narrative of the Good News in a message titled: “The Nativity Revisited – Love Came Down.”

This week is the final Sunday of 2025 – in some ways, it flew by in a flash, but in others, it has been a very long year. Today, we find the newborn Christ eight days old, and he is taken to the temple for circumcision and naming of the child, as every devout Hebrew did. Today's passage is the story of “A Sacrifice, A Savior, a Sword.” Our Core verses for this week are Luke 2:21-38, found on page 1591 of your Pew Bibles.

you may now dismiss[d] your servant in peace.

30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,

31     which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:

32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,

and the glory of your people Israel.”

I’ll be honest with you—many people tend to skim passages like this.

In some ways, Luke 2:21–38 feels like the biblical equivalent of someone pulling out a baby album and insisting I look at every photo.

Meaningful to the parents, perhaps—but not exactly sermon material.

But the longer I’ve lived with Scripture, and the longer I’ve lived with life, the more I’ve learned this truth:

Luke gives us only three stories from Jesus’ childhood. This is one of them.

And in these seemingly ordinary acts—circumcision, sacrifice, presentation—we discover something profound.

This passage reveals Jesus through three tightly woven truths, each spoken not by angels this time, but by faithful saints who had waited their entire lives for this moment:

And standing beside Simeon is Anna, a prophet, a widow, and a witness—proof that God was not silent in the temple that day.

Luke repeats himself here—and repetition in Scripture is never accidental.

Again and again, we hear the phrase: “according to the Law of the Lord.”

Jesus is eight days old. He cannot speak. He cannot choose. He cannot obey. And yet—He obeys.

On the eighth day, He is circumcised.  His blood is shed—not for sin, but for identification.

This was the sign of God’s covenant with Abraham. By bearing it, Jesus fully identifies Himself with Israel.

Paul later explains what Luke quietly shows us:

“But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children.” — Galatians 4:4–5 (NLT)

Jesus does not bypass the Law. He steps fully into it.

Then comes the presentation at the temple. Mary and Joseph bring their sacrifice—not a lamb, but two doves.

Leviticus tells us why: “If a woman cannot afford a lamb, she must bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons.” — Leviticus 12:8 (NLT)

The Son of God enters the world on the offering plan of the poor.

The One who owns the cattle on a thousand hills is carried into the temple by parents who cannot afford a lamb.

Love that humbles itself.

Love that fulfills every requirement on our behalf.

Hebrews captures the heart of it:

“That is why, when Christ came into the world…, he said, ‘I have come to do your will, O God.’” — Hebrews 10:5–7 (NLT)

Hold up a sign: PAID IN FULL.

Not because the bill didn’t matter. But because someone else honored every requirement. Jesus begins His life doing what He will finish at the cross—

fulfilling every demand of the Law for us.

Now Luke turns our attention to the temple courts—to a man named Simeon.

His name means “to hear.” And he had been listening his whole life.

Scripture tells us he was waiting for “the consolation of Israel.” That phrase comes straight from Isaiah: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.” — Isaiah 40:1–2 (NLT)

Simeon had lived through silence. Four hundred years without a prophet. Four hundred years of occupation, corruption, and compromise. Yet he waited.

And on this day, guided by the Spirit, he sees a young couple… and a baby.

He takes Jesus into his arms—and something happens. Faith becomes sight.

“I have seen your salvation, which you have prepared for all people. He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!”— Luke 2:30–32 (NLT)

Simeon reaches back into Isaiah again:

“I will make you a light to the Gentiles, and you will bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.”  — Isaiah 49:6 (NLT)

This child is not only Israel’s hope. He is the world’s Light.

John will later echo the same truth: “The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.” — John 1:9 (NLT)

Light does not argue with darkness. It simply shows up. Simeon doesn’t shout.

He sings. Because when salvation arrives, joy follows.

— Psalm 27:1 (NLT)

And then—almost quietly—Anna arrives. A widow. A prophetess. A woman who had spent decades fasting, praying, waiting.

Joel promised this day:  “I will pour out my Spirit upon all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy.”

— Joel 2:28 (NLT)

Anna sees the child and does what prophets do— she speaks.

— Luke 2:38 (NLT)

She cannot stay silent.  “Has the Lord redeemed you? Then speak out!” — Psalm 107:2 (NLT)

Simeon sees salvation. Anna proclaims redemption. One receives the Savior.

The other announces Him. This is love revealed as light.

Then Simeon says something no new parent wants to hear. “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall and many others to rise… and a sword will pierce your very soul.” — Luke 2:34–35 (NLT)

Isaiah foretold this moment: “He will be a stone that causes people to stumble.” — Isaiah 8:14–15 (NLT)

Jesus will divide hearts. Reveal motives. Expose allegiance. And for Mary, this sword will not strike immediately. It waits.

John records its fulfillment: “Standing near the cross were Jesus’ mother…” — John 19:25 (NLT)

The sword Simeon foretold falls at Calvary.

Jesus Himself later says: “I didn’t come to bring peace, but a sword.” — Matthew 10:34 (NLT)

Not because He delights in division— but because truth always divides before it heals.

“The word of God is alive and powerful… sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword.”— Hebrews 4:12 (NLT)

The baby in the temple is already casting the shadow of the cross. Love has come—but it will cost everything.

Luke abruptly ends this quiet temple scene. Jesus returns to Nazareth. Life resumes.

No parade. No revolution—yet.

And that is precisely where the application lives: What does faith look like after the holy moment has passed?

Simeon and Anna teach us that salvation does not merely appear— it must be received, trusted, lived, and spoken.

Joseph and Mary had just experienced the most extraordinary event in human history. God had become flesh. Angels had spoken. Prophecies were unfolding.

And yet— they still stood in line at the temple. They still followed purification laws. They still brought the offering of the poor. Nothing about this moment felt glamorous.

I read about a leader who had a phrase he repeated constantly: “Clean and clear.”

Before making any decision—financial, relational, or organizational—he would ask:

He would say, “Clean and clear costs more up front—but it’s always cheaper in the long run.”

That stuck with me.

Because most spiritual damage doesn’t come from dramatic rebellion. It comes from small exceptions we make for ourselves.

Joseph and Mary could have reasoned that way. If anyone could have skipped ritual obligations, it was them. But they didn’t.

Ask yourself gently—but honestly:

There is a deep, quiet peace of soul that comes from living clean and clear.  Not perfection. Not legalism. But integrity.

Hold up a clear glass of water.

Clean water doesn’t draw attention to itself— but the moment it’s cloudy, everyone notices.

Faith lived with integrity doesn’t make headlines, but it sustains trust, joy, and credibility.

“Be holy in everything you do.” (set apart for God’s use) — 1 Peter 1:15–16 (NLT)

Joseph and Mary obeyed fully—not because they had to, but because they trusted God. A life lived clean and clear creates peace you cannot manufacture.

Simeon and Anna are not young visionaries. They are elderly saints. Their faith did not burn hot and fast— it burned slow and steady. They waited decades.  No new prophets. No miracles. No visible progress.

Yet Luke describes Simeon as righteous and devout, and Anna as worshiping night and day.

Waiting rooms are some of the hardest places to live spiritually. Hospital waiting rooms. Job interview waiting rooms. Diagnosis waiting rooms. “God, what now?” waiting rooms.

I’ve never met anyone who said, “I really enjoy waiting on God.” Waiting stretches faith.  It tests hope. But here’s the truth Simeon and Anna teach us:

Imagine Anna waking up each morning—widowed, elderly, unnoticed—

and choosing again to pray.

Imagine Simeon walking past children in the marketplace, thinking, “Will I see Him today?” And then—one ordinary day— everything changed.

Some of you are waiting:

Simeon and Anna remind us: God is never late—even when He feels silent.

Hold an hourglass.

Waiting feels passive—but it isn’t. It’s active trust.

Every grain that falls is not wasted time—it is faith being formed.

“Those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.” — Isaiah 40:31 (NLT)

Simeon and Anna teach us that waiting is not passive—it is faithful endurance.

Anna’s role is easy to overlook—but it is crucial. Simeon sees. Anna speaks.

She does not analyze the moment. She does not wait for permission. She does not wonder whether people will listen. Luke says she spoke to all who were waiting.

Most Christians hesitate to speak because they think testimony requires expertise. But testimony isn’t a sermon.  It’s a story. You don’t need theological training to say: “Here’s what God did.” “Here’s what I’ve seen.” “Here’s why I still believe.”

You don’t need medical school to recommend a good doctor. You don’t need culinary training to tell someone where to eat. You only need experience. Anna had waited long enough to recognize hope when she saw it.

Ask yourself:

Anna reminds us: God often uses faithful witnesses, not influential ones.

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