The Turning Of Yet Another Year

 

Taken by Beth Herrington Kruprzak

Today is the first day of 2026 — New Year’s Day.
Christmas has passed, the decorations are coming down, and many hearts are settling into reflection. According to Jewish custom, it has now been about a week since Jesus’ birth — around the time of His naming and circumcision (Luke 2:21). By the end of this month, Mary and Joseph will walk into the temple to present their Son to the Lord (Luke 2:22–24).

It is there, in that sacred but ordinary place, that scripture introduces us to a woman whose name appears in only three verses, yet whose life has spoken across centuries.

Her name is Anna.

As I reflect on her story this year, I do so with fresh tenderness — realizing how closely I came to walking in her shadow this past year, alongside dear sisters who are walking that path now, having lost their husbands during 2025. Like Anna, many women today are learning what it means to move from a life of marriage into a life of altered purpose — not by choice, but by providence.

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.
— Luke 2:36–37a, ESV

Anna was a prophetess, a woman recognized for spiritual insight shaped by deep communion with God. She was from the tribe of Asher, one of Israel’s northern tribes that had long been scattered and largely forgotten. Even her lineage reminds us that God sees faithfulness where the world does not.

Her personal story includes both love and loss. She knew marriage — briefly — and then she knew widowhood for decades.

In first-century Jewish culture, widows were vulnerable and often overlooked. Their social standing was limited, their voices rarely amplified. Yet Anna did not withdraw into bitterness or obscurity. Instead, she anchored her life in the presence of God.

She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day.
— Luke 2:37b, ESV

This does not mean Anna lived possible within the temple walls, but that her life revolved around God’s presence. Worship was not a season for her — it was her posture.

She lived through:

• Personal grief
• Roman oppression
• Generations of prophetic silence

Still, she remained faithful.

Anna chose prayer when words failed her grief.
She chose fasting when pain lingered unanswered.
She chose trust when understanding never came.

She teaches us something profoundly important:
communion with God is not born from an absence of problems, but from a daily decision to fix our hearts on a faithful God.

As Paul would later write:

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.
— Colossians 3:2, ESV

Anna lived this truth long before it was written.

For decades, Anna waited — not passively, but prayerfully. She waited for Israel’s redemption, for God’s promises to unfold, for light to break through long silence.

Then one day, without announcement or spectacle, fulfillment arrived.

Mary and Joseph entered the temple carrying a child. Simeon took Jesus into his arms and proclaimed that he had seen God’s salvation (Luke 2:25–32). At that very moment, Anna stepped forward.

Her long years of faithfulness culminated in a single holy recognition:
the Messiah had come.

Not wielding a sword.
Not claiming a throne.
But as the Ancient of Days clothed in flesh — eternity wrapped in swaddling clothes, redemption arriving quietly.

Anna responded with thanksgiving and proclamation. She spoke to those who were also waiting — because waiting women recognize one another.

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.
— Luke 2:38, ESV

Anna refused to be crushed by pain, guilt, or bitterness. Instead, she was strengthened by relationship with God. That strength did not remove her circumstances — but it transformed her purpose.

Her joy was not circumstantial.
Her peace was not situational.
It flowed from intimacy with God.

Anna is not remembered for titles, positions, or visible achievements — but for a heart that remained before God even when everything seemed silent.

She trusted when she did not understand.
She prayed when grief left her wordless.
She fasted when hope felt thin.

Though Anna lived years before the church was established, her life reflects the very heart of what Scripture later calls women to be:

Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior… They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women…
— Titus 2:3–5, ESV

Anna ministered not through formal teaching, but through faithful presence, lived devotion, and proclamation of truth. She was a spiritual mother to those waiting alongside her — modeling perseverance, reverence, and hope.

In a culture that overlooked widows, God elevated one.
In a season of silence, God gave her a voice.
In a world that discounted women’s influence, God entrusted her with announcement.

Anna’s story reminds us that purpose does not end when a season ends.

Marriage may change.
Dreams may shift.
Life may look nothing like what we imagined.

Yet God is not finished.

Waiting is not wasted when it is lived before Him.
Faithfulness is never unseen.
And devotion, quietly lived, echoes into eternity.

Anna waited — and saw redemption.
May we do the same.