A pattern for aged widows
"Anna, a prophetess, was also there in the Temple.
She was the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher, and was very old.
She was a widow, for her husband had died when they had been married
only seven years. She was now eighty-four years old. She never left the
Temple but stayed there day and night, worshiping God with fasting and
prayer. She came along just as Simeon was talking with Mary and Joseph, and
she began praising God. She talked about Jesus to everyone who had been
waiting for the promised King to come and deliver Jerusalem." Luke 2:36-38
The Holy Spirit of God, while he passes over in silence
the names of mighty kings and potentates, with all their civil and military
achievements, their battles and their victories—writes the life, and
pronounces the eulogy of a poor and godly aged widow, of whom the world knew
little and cared less—to preserve her memory to the end of time, and to show
how grateful to him such a kind of life is. Anna was one among the few who,
in that dark degenerate age, preserved the light of true piety from being
quite extinct, and who waited for the Messiah. Having lost her husband,
after a short union of seven years, she continued a widow ever afterwards;
and was eighty-four years of age, at the time of our Lord's birth. Gifted
with the spirit of prophecy, she delivered the messages of God to the few
who were disposed to receive them, and spoke of him that was to come—who
would bring deliverance for his people.
Her abode was in one of the dwellings which
surrounded the temple, and her sole employment was devotion. She had
long been dead to the world, and the world to her; and, with her heart in
heaven, she had neither interest nor hope upon earth. It was her privilege,
as it was of good old Simeon, before she closed her eyes on earthly things,
to see Him of whom the prophets spoke. Having uttered her gratitude that the
light had not departed from her eyes, until she had seen the Lord, she
confessed him before others, and commended him to their regards. Happy
saint, to see this new-born Savior as the star of your evening—you
have lived to good purpose, in thus having your existence prolonged, to
welcome to our world, him who came to be its Redeemer—and now what can
induce a wish to remain longer away from your Father's house? You may be
willing to lay down your aged body, and your widowhood, and go to that
world, where you shall flourish in the vigor of immortal youth!
And now, leaving Anna, I turn to the aged widow,
who has little to do but to wait and watch for the coming of her Lord.
Mother in Israel, I address you with sentiments of reverent respect,
while I call upon you to indulge the reflections, and perform the duties,
appropriate to your circumstances. Your age, connected with your widowhood,
renders you an object of deep concern. You have outlived, not only the
husband—but the friends of your youth. As regards those who started with you
in life, you are alone in the world; and you sometimes feel a sadness come
over you, because there are none who can talk with you of the scenes of your
childhood and youth—which are as a tale written only in your own memory.
Spend the evening of your days, in adoring the God that has kept you thus
long, and in admiring the varied displays of his attributes, and the rich
and seasonable communications of his grace, which it has been your privilege
to enjoy. From what dangers he has rescued you—amid what
temptations he has delivered you—through what difficulties he has
conducted you—under what trials he has supported you—and what
mercies he has showered upon you—during a widowhood of thirty, forty, or
fifty years! How much of his power, wisdom, patience, faithfulness, and
love—have you seen in all these varied scenes, through which you have been
called to pass!
Let it be the employment and delight of your soul, in the
long evening of your life, to retrace, with gratitude and admiration, the
wondrous course and journey of your existence. When by infirmity of body,
you are shut out from the public ordinances of true religion, and the
communion of the saints; when through failing sight you can no longer read
the Word of God, and you can only think upon its contents, dwell upon
the past with thanksgiving and love. When you became a widow, perhaps early
in life, you trembled, and asked, "How am I to be sustained?" and lo! there
you are—a widow of seventy or eighty years, acknowledging to the glory of
God, that he has never left you, nor forsaken you!
And now, during the remainder of your days, and of your
widowhood, withdraw your attentions from this world, and prepare for that
glory, on the verge of which you are now living! Almost every tie to earth
is cut, or hangs very loose about your heart. Heaven has been accumulating
its treasures, and multiplying its attractions for many years, and earth
growing poorer and poorer, until one would suppose it has scarcely anything
now left to make you, as you are about to leave it—cast one lingering
longing look behind. Let it be seen that you are dwelling on the borderland,
waiting and longing to pass over to your eternal home. Let it not distress
you, if you cannot be so vigorous in the service of God, as you once were.
Do not be cast down, if you cannot hear with the same attention—or
pray with the same length, fixedness of thought, and fervor of
emotion—or that you cannot remember with the same power and accuracy,
as you once did. It is the decay of nature, rather than the decline
of grace—and your divine Lord will make the same kind excuse for you,
which he once did for his slumbering disciples, and say, "The spirit indeed
is willing—but the flesh is weak!"
Be it your aim, in a peculiar sense—to live by faith. You
must have been long since weaned, or ought to have been, from living upon
frames and feelings. Your frames and feelings have far less of
liveliness than they once had, and you must be brought to a simpler and
firmer reliance upon the faithfulness and unchangeableness of God. You must
rest upon the simple promise, and rely upon the pure and unmixed word. Aged
saint, believe, believe—hold on to the end, by faith. By faith lay hold of
God's strength, to support your faltering steps, and sustain you to the end.
Be as cheerful as you can—for the smiles of an aged
Christian, happy in the Lord, are as beautiful as the rays of the setting
sun, of a midsummer's day. Yes, though an aged widow, apparently forlorn and
desolate—send forth notes of cheerful praise. Like good old Anna, who when
she came in and saw the Lord, gave thanks, and spoke of Christ to those
around—so you should likewise do. Encourage the younger widows to put their
trust in God. Tell them how he has appeared to sustain you. Bear testimony
for him, and remind them, that he is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Let it appear to all who come round you, that though God
sees fit to detain you upon earth—your affections have gone on before you
into heaven; that your heart is dead to the world—though your body lives in
it; that though you are willing to wait all the days of your appointed time,
until your change comes—that still the coming of the change will be a joyful
moment. It is an unfitting sight, to behold an aged widow clinging to earth,
even when its attractions, one would think, are gone; and loving the world,
when its charms are all faded, and it is but the skeleton of what it was to
her.
But, at the same time, let there be no impatience to be
gone. Your husband is dead; perhaps your children also, and there be few in
whom your heart takes a deep interest or concern. You can see no reason why
you should linger and loiter another hour in the world, which is one vast
sepulcher, where all that was dear to you lies buried—and why, therefore,
should such a tomb as this world—be your dwelling place? Just because it is
God's will to keep you here! Let there be no peevish wishes for death—no
fretful complaints of life. It may be you are dependent, and are afraid you
are a burden to your friends; and this adds to your impatience to be
gone—but strive against it. God loves his children too well to keep them
one moment longer from his house and home above—than is best for his
glory—and their happiness!