Luke’s voice was soft but steady as he recited the words of Simeon, an old man who had waited his entire life for the fulfillment of God’s promise. Theophilos, reclining by the candlelight in his Ephesian oikos on Embolus Street, listened intently as the familiar imagery of temples and divine glory took on new meaning.
“Sovereign Lord, as You have promised, You may now dismiss Your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of Your people Israel.”
Fulfillment After Waiting
Theophilos leaned back from the table where he and Luke were reclining, his thoughts turning to the old man Simeon. Here was someone who had spent his life waiting—waiting for the promised Savior, waiting to see salvation with his own eyes. Theophilos knew the ache of waiting. As a Kouretes and hiereus, he had waited for the day of Artemis’ salvation. Each year, he would honor the goddess as Artemis sotera, believing that his faithful service to her would eventually lead to divine favor as much for him as for the city. Yet, for all his waiting, he had never felt the peace that Simeon now proclaimed.
“This peace Simeon speaks of,” Theophilos said, breaking the silence. “It is not the kind of peace I know. He speaks as though his entire life has found its purpose.”
Luke smiled. “Because it has. Simeon’s peace comes from knowing that God has fulfilled His promise. The salvation he longed for has come, and his life is complete.”
Theophilos considered this. The gods of Ephesus, indeed of all of Asia Minor, never offered fulfillment—only more rituals, more offerings, and more striving. But Simeon’s God had acted decisively, bringing salvation in a tangible, personal way in the baby he had taken up in his arms, Jesus Christ.
Salvation for All Nations
Luke continued, his tone firm and hopeful: “Simeon declared that this salvation was not just for Israel but for all nations—a light for revelation to the Gentiles.”
Theophilos sat up at this. “To the Gentiles? Surely this salvation belongs to Israel alone. What do the nations have to do with the God of Israel?”
“This salvation is for all. He is not just the God of Israel. He is the Almighty God of creation” Luke replied. “In Jesus, God’s promise to eliminate the enmity between Him and humanity has been fulfilled.” Theophilos looked stunned as he thought all the gods and goddesses who acted like saviors: Zeus, Asclepius, Artemis. Luke continued, “The light of Christ shines not just in Jerusalem but even here, in Ephesus as well as in all Asia Minor.”
Theophilos found himself both intrigued and unsettled. These temples dotting the landscape of Asia Minor, for all their splendor, served only their cities and its patrons: the Temple of Apollo in Didyma, the Temple of Athena in Priene, the Temple of Artemis in Sardis, the Temple of Asclepius in Pergamon. Even the imperial cults in Pergamon and Smyrna honored Rome and its emperor as their saviors. Ephesus would have to wait for its imperial cult a few more years. But Simeon’s hymn declared a universal salvation, a light shining for both Jew and Gentile. Could it be true? Could this God, who revealed Himself in a humble child, also care for all nations at the same time?
Disrupted by Peace
What struck Theophilos most was the sense of peace that permeated Simeon’s words. “You may now dismiss Your servant in peace,” the old man had said, as if his life had reached its perfect end. Theophilos thought of his own life—of the long hours spent ensuring the proper rituals at the Artemision and in the woods of Ortygia, of the weight of expectations placed on him as a temple priest and leading citizen. Peace, for him, had always been elusive. It was not the result of divine favor but a fleeting moment of respite between the pressures of his duties; that liminal time between the completion of a ritual and the waiting for the goddess’s response. For he knew that if Artemis was not pleased with him, the entire city would suffer just like it had in the great earthquake of his childhood.
“How does a man like Simeon find peace?” Theophilos asked. “His God demanded much of him, did He not?”
Luke shook his head. “Simeon’s peace was not earned by duty or sacrifice. It came from the fulfillment of a promise. God had told him he would see the Savior before he died, and when he held the child Jesus, he knew that promise had been kept.”
Theophilos’s Own Longing
As Theophilos pondered Simeon’s story, he felt a stirring in his own heart—a longing for the kind of peace that could not be shaken by the demands of life or the uncertainties of the future. Simeon had found that peace because his life was anchored in God’s promise of a Savior, not in his own achievements.
Theophilos turned to Luke. “If what you say is true, then this peace Simeon found—it is not just for him, is it? You believe it can be for me, too.”
Luke’s gaze met his, steady and sure. “It can be. Jesus came to bring peace to all who will receive Him. You, Theophilos, are not beyond His promise. His light shines even here, in the shadow of Artemis’s temple.”
A God of Fulfillment and Peace
For Theophilos, the hymn of Simeon disrupted his understanding of divine purpose and peace. In Ephesus, the gods demanded endless offerings, but Simeon’s God had made a promise—and kept it. The peace Simeon found was not a fleeting escape but the culmination of a life lived in trust. Theophilos began to wonder if this same peace could reach him, if the light Simeon spoke of could illuminate even the shadowed corners of his own heart.
A Challenge for Us
Simeon’s hymn invites us to consider where we find fulfillment and peace. Like Theophilos, we may strive endlessly, seeking meaning in our work, our rituals, or our achievements. But Simeon’s story reminds us that true peace comes not from what we do but from what God has done. Will you, like Theophilos, allow yourself to be disrupted by Simeon’s hymn and the peace it offers? Will you look to Jesus, the light of the world, and find in Him the fulfillment of all you’ve been waiting for?
The invitation is clear: the light shines for all nations—including you. Will you step into its peace?