Anna's Story

Seth traveled with two men and one well-loaded donkey as he set out, once again, to sell the fabrics he had woven.  They followed the old road down from Jerusalem through Bethany, and then northeast toward Jericho and the Jordan River where they planned to meet a caravan headed for Damascus.  The trail was rugged as it wound downward through jagged rock formations along steep slopes—often jutting out by a cliff.  Seth had an adventurous spirit, and so for the most part he enjoyed the frequent trek through these isolated mountain corridors.  Selling his goods was hard work, but he embraced the challenge with thanks to God for the skill to make a go of it in business.

His party followed the usual schedule, arriving by sundown the first day at a small cove beside the trail on the uphill side of a switchback—there were a few trees there and the luxury of a mountain spring nearby.  They unloaded the donkey, built a fire and set up camp.  As the men sat looking over the dimly lit valley, a rustling in the bushes caught their attention.  Before they could investigate, a rush of fists and sticks were upon them.  Seth grabbed one bandit and wrestled him to the ground, but before long another one clubbed him on the head.  The thieves subdued all three travelers in short order, stole their valuables, the donkey, and all of Seths’ material, leaving the men for dead.

It took two days for one of the survivors to stumble back to Jerusalem and bring Anna and the children the dreadful news—Seth was gone.  He would not be coming home from this business trip.  Anna would no longer hear his voice calling at the gate; his twin girls, at three, would never again bounce down the street on Daddy’s shoulders.  Anna fell to her knees in heaving sobs and cried out to God, “O Lord, you gave and you have taken away, help me, help us…”

Seven years before this tragic news arrived Anna had stood beside her beloved Seth to say “I do” and pledge her life with his to seek God’s honor.  It was a joyful day—so much joy it seemed it could hardly be contained, as their families danced and sang into the night.  God’s presence in this new marriage was vivid—they were young and eager to grow together in the Lord, often discussing the Torah, always looking for the hand of God, praying and waiting for the unfolding of his saving plan.  Anna and Seth were partners in the love of God, and they walked through long, hard days with hope in the One who reigns.

When the twins were born Seth nearly lost his dear Anna—it was such a long labor, and the midwife looked more grim and doubtful as the hours passed.  But Seth stayed on his knees, calling on the Giver of life for protection and power—and for the lives of all three.  After the babies arrived Anna hovered in and out of consciousness through the night, but in the morning her eyes were clear again.  The worst was over.  Seth ran through the neighborhood announcing how the Lord had brought his Anna back from the dead and given him twin girls!  He must have gone to a dozen homes before collapsing on a blanket beside Anna in tears of joy….

But now, suddenly, all had changed—now that life was over.  Anna stood by the window looking in the direction of the distant ravine where Seth had died.  What would she do, how could she go on?  A time came many months later when she realized she hadn’t cried all day, and yet by then a certain darkness had come over her, a bleakness that almost made her shoulders droop.  She loved her little girls, she loved her parents and the other relatives who helped her make it day by day.  Her father Phanuel used to remind her, “Anna, sometimes God’s ways are mysterious, but we’ve seen his faithfulness through the years, through the trials.  Let the pain prompt you to run to him, not away from him.  He knows your grief.  And I believe the day is coming soon when he will send Messiah.”

Still, the darkness settled like a cloud on Anna’s heavy heart, a fog that would not clear.  Year after year.  The smile she’d worn, the cheer that she’d shown—these became distant memories.  She carried on with some of Seth’s weaving, cared for her girls, and survived.  Often she’d go into the temple and simply kneel, rest, wait, and pray for help.  And pray aloud—calling, crying out to God.  There was a strange relief in those brazen, honest prayers—God met her in the midst of it.

Her sister was convinced that the best thing for Anna would be to remarry.  “You need a new beginning.”  But suitors were few and far between, and she never sensed God’s pleasure in the ones who came along.  “Anna, you don’t want to be lonely in old age,” her friends would say.”  “I’d rather be lonely than be married to a man who does not share my heart for God,” was her standard reply.  For in the years of darkness the Lord’s imprint on her soul grew deep and strong.

One day when the girls were nine they walked with Anna to the market, and as they went they passed some children playing in the street while their mothers watched and laughed.  One of her girls asked Anna, “Mommy, why don’t you ever laugh?”  She replied, “It’s not that I don’t laugh…”  But then she realized it was true.  That night, in prayer, she called out to the Lord to come and lift the darkness.  “Father, forgive me, I have not been hopeful, I have taught my children to be downcast:  my love for you is not seen by them!  Lord, please sweep the cloud away, have mercy—take my life and make it shine for you.  I am willing to be alone—happy to be unmarried if that is your gift to me.”

The next time she was in the temple the Lord surprised her with a thought—so real, so strong, yet not with audible words.  It was a thought of hope.  Or better yet, a picture of darkness being burned away by bright rays of sunshine coming over the eastern horizon, a picture of a great wind of God’s Spirit coming upon his people to blow away their burden of guilt and fear and bring them fresh mercy.  She knew this was God’s word for her—and yet, she wondered if it was for her alone.  When she told her aging father about it he grinned, and promptly quoted from the prophet Joel, “When I come to pour out my Spirit, your sons and daughters will prophesy.”  Anna felt a new hope, and she smiled.

The years passed, her daughters grew—they married brothers, and in the same year, would you believe?  What celebrations, and what satisfaction for Anna as her girls were wed to godly young men who truly feared the Lord.  She thought how Seth would have been so proud.  The coming years saw the arrival of Anna’s grandchildren and the departure of her parents—again the words of Job stuck in her mind, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

While the Romans overran the earth and old King Herod managed to hold power in his corner of the world, Anna concentrated her attention on a different King.  She continued to visit the temple—more and more, in fact.  Some of the priests would look at her and ask, “Who is that old lady, it’s like she lives here.  What can she be praying about day and night?”  Little did they know the thoughts that God had planted in her heart; by this time few remembered her father Phanuel, a man of unbending hope.  Anna would pass the days, would even stay into the darkness, and pray in the temple courts.  And she would also look for pilgrims coming and going with their turtledoves to remind them, “You know, some day soon the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.  It’s true, you know.  It’s not just a story.  Get ready to meet the King!”  Those with eyes to see could tell that Anna was a prophetess.

Time rolled on, decades passed, grandchildren went off to work—more than half a century since she’d last seen her dear Seth.  As she drew water from a basin and saw her reflection, she thought how different she now looked at 75 than she would have appeared to her groom that day when he first kissed his bride.  But it was a happy memory, for she knew the Lord had been with her all the way along—God knew the number of her days, her life was in his hands.  She walked with a stick and kept her daily vigil—at least three times a day she came into the temple to pray, to speak, to shine the light of hope.  God often impressed on her heart the need to give people the words of Isaiah, “‘We all, like sheep, have gone astray, but the Lord has laid all our sins on his Servant.’  It’s true, there is hope for us all, God is making a way for our forgiveness—he will clear the darkness away and lift your cloud of guilt.  Give him your hearts!”

Yet still the years passed.  Anna waited, and waited.  Her frame was bent and weak—so she was thankful for grandsons who would carry her to the temple so she could pray and fast.  It was the year of Caesar’s census, and each day as Anna woke she sensed the time was nearer.  A godly priest named Simeon shared her anticipation, and he’d told her how the Lord revealed to him that he would live to see the coming of Messiah—the one to bring hope for Israel and the Gentiles!  “Anna, the day is near—you see, it must be:  my life is fading.”  So they turned to God in prayer, with hope.

That afternoon, as Anna bowed in the temple, she heard Simeon’s voice in the distance—his voice was raised and changed.  She knew.  Her vision was failing, but she still had eyes to see and ears to hear.  And so Anna hobbled through the crowds to join the old priest and the young couple; newfound strength in failing legs delivered her into the presence of the infant King.  She laid her gnarled hands on Mary and Joseph’s shoulders and said, “God is with you, and his Spirit will sustain you when the dark days come!  Don’t doubt him for a moment.”  As other worshippers gathered round, Anna prayed aloud, “O Lord God, how we thank you for your Servant, your Son, our King, who brings light into our darkness, who comes to seek and save the lost.”

*****

Luke 2:36-38 (ESV):  And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

*****

[Photo:  Rembrandt, "Simeon and Anna in the Temple" (1627)]