“This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,” whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. “Here in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!”
Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but . . . he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. . . .
“Rat!” he found breath to whisper, shaking. “Are you afraid?”
“Afraid?” murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. “Afraid! Of Him? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O, Mole, I am afraid!”
Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship. 1
This is from a wonderful children’s story called The Wind and The Willows. Kenneth Grahame, like C.S. Lewis, and George MacDonald and G.K. Chesterton wrote often about childlike wonder. Lewis, in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, said of the Penvesie children when they heard that Aslan was on the move: “At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in his inside.” The name for this was awe – a biblical kind of fear. All four of these authors wrote for children and adults, but they captured awe and wonder especially well in their books for children.
What they are reaching for is to bring their reader into a grasp of the haunting otherness… either of God or of some other created thing. Lewis, writing in the preface to George MacDonald: An Anthology, said this of MacDonald: “The quality which had enchanted me in his imaginative works turned out to be the quality of the real universe, the divine, the magical, terrifying, and ecstatic reality in which we all live”. He, MacDonald and Chesterton (and others) knew that children are more awake to this glory than most adults. They draw us into the “weight of glory,” which is less like beauty or light, and more like weight and depth. (Glory in the Old Testament is related not to light, but to weight). Most children’s books, especially those written by those with a Christian worldview, are so much better at wonder than books for adults.
Yet, while I love the innocence of childlike wonder it’s old wonder that captures my heart. The kind of wonder that survives the groaning of time, of pain… I know Simeon should be saved for after Christ’s birth, but I just can’t help it. He is my Christmas hero. And the way Luke describes him! “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” (Luke 2:25). (But the whole account should be read! 2:25-35). Such beauty, such poetry and simplicity. A 500-page novel could be written from these few words. Picture if you will, this man (we think he is old, but we don’t really know that for sure) – a simple devout man, who came to the temple often. When did he come? Did he leave a wife and family at home every day? Did he travel the same path to the temple? Did he come with an expectation that this might be the day? We don’t even know if he was a priest, Luke only tells us he was devout and righteous; but the Holy Spirit rested upon him and told him things about the Messiah.
The reason I am so stuck on Simeon in this week, is that the virtue we celebrate this week is peace. Peace is what Simeon was looking for – but he uses a quite unusual word for it, “consolation.” Simeon was waiting for Consolation – His people were waiting for Consolation, a Messiah who brought a peace that would never cease, never end. This picture for me is not just comfort or solace – even though those things are needed! The picture of consolation conjured up for me is so fraught with the idea of deep sorrow, oppression, and suffering. When I think of consolation the first word that comes to me is inconsolable. I see someone wracked with sobs… not a dainty cry, but an ugly cry. The people of God in Simeon’s day were inconsolable because they had suffered for so long and were in such great despair and fear that their Messiah would not come. Simeon’s response to holding the infant Jesus is a kind of wonder that is not merely magical or hopeful – it is old wonder. It’s wonder that has walked a long distance and yet still has the capacity to say of God – “He has met us here… He is “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isa 9:6 ESV)
To embrace mystery (and so encounter wonder) means we are stirred by “otherness;” especially when it comes to God in Christ who was made man.
We can marvel at the baby in the straw because we know His glorious end.
We marvel not only at the strangeness of this, but with the knowledge that the Creator of heaven and earth, so loved us, that He sent his Son to die for us. Not even the noblest of humans could have done that. Wonder is all over the place in Luke’s narrative of Christ’s birth. The angel in Luke 2:14 cried – “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”
Old wonder is a gift to those who have left behind their cynicism about the state of the world. It’s the capacity to stay in the grace of awe and worship in spite of hardships. We tend to sanitize the birth of Christ -through Christmas carols like “Away in a Manger” and yes, even “Silent Night.” There could not have been much quiet or sweet smells in a stable full of animals, and where a woman is giving birth in pain like any other mother. A cacophony (don’t you just love that word?) of noise, and the smells of wet sheep, trampled straw and the smell of birth. In only a short time, an unimaginable horror would take place – the slaughter of every boy under the age of two in the region of Bethlehem. This was the world that the “Consolation of Israel” was born into.
Longanimity is the virtue that allows us to hold onto wonder through long periods of suffering and pain. It’s what Paul calls long-suffering, and it enables us to endure by the power of the Indwelling Spirit of God…
It gives us what we need to stay the course, to press on to the “Day of the Lord” where we will once and for all leave behind our suffering and pain and take up our home where there will be no more tears. Longanimity is the grace that helps us look toward the end. – It’s a virtue that I believe Jesus called his disciples to, especially in the garden of Gethsemane when he asked his disciples, to keep vigil for him. Three times He asked them, and after one of those times, he asks Peter “could you not watch for one hour?” (Mark 14:37). (Ugh, that pierces my often fickle heart). Simeon was a man who kept vigil well. He waited his whole life for the Consolation to come to his people. Again, longanimity is the grace to stay the course – to look not only to the end of our pain and suffering, but to Him who is our peace.
“Peace on earth” – this is the word of the Lord as it came through the angel singing over the shepherds. This is the peace that Consolation brings – not a truce between enemies, not a ceasefire in battle, but a deep abiding sense of well-being. The Old Testament calls it shalom – wholeness, right-ness, wellness and completeness.
Peace is not a gift that passes from Christ the giver to us the receivers. His peace is ours because he is ours, and the peace he is experiencing we are experiencing. Our experience of peace is his peace in us because he is in us.”2
John Piper
This is echoed by Elizabeth Goudge – “Peace had come down to dwell with men forever. No matter what the suffering, the fighting, the storms, the distress, nothing now could ever take from the lovers of God the gift of his peace. Men could never again doubt the goodwill of God toward them, for God had given his own Son to be born, to live, to die, for their salvation. God’s goodwill was incarnate now as a little child lying in a manger.”3
Old Wonder – Simeon’s words to Mary and Joseph were not words of the kind of peace that is conciliatory or cheap. Simeon knew he held in his arms the hope of the world, the entry of a radical new world, an upside world where finally, there would be peace. But he knew that there would yet be much suffering. As he gives the baby Jesus back to Mary, he says to her – “and a sword will pierce through your own soul, that the hearts of many might be revealed.” This is echoed in what Jesus later says, when he says, “34 Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Mat 10:34 ESV). Wait, didn’t the angel just say – “Peace on earth, goodwill to men?” Jesus does not speak to any kind of peace which seeks merely the absence of conflict, or a weak truce between enemies. No, His peace is a peace that goes deep into the souls of His people, a shalom peace. In the gospel of John he says “peace be unto you,” seven times, three of which are after His resurrection and are meant as an encouragement to not be afraid of Him as He brings His resurrected body before them.
The image that comes to my mind of this kind of peace is of hands crossed over the heart, receiving what only God in Christ can bring. In fact, while the Holy Spirit only rested upon Simeon, He lives within every heart that calls Christ Lord. Take a moment, and simply do this: place your hands over your heart and welcome the shalom God brings to your life. Receive well-being, receive Him once again as the healer of all our pain and sorrow. Finally, receive Him as your eternal “Consolation.” And then, bow the knee in worship before Him.
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26
Picture by Omid Mozaffari on Unsplash
- Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, New York: Scribner & Sons, 1961 (page unknown.
- John Piper, The Incalculable Wonder of Being a Christian, https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-incalculable-wonder-of-being-a-christian
- Elizabeth Goudge, God So Loved the World, New York: Coward-McCann, Inc., 1951, p. 26.