For the Ones Who Knew Too Soon
A reflection for those in Mary’s line—seers, mothers, and sacred witnesses who carry divine knowing before the world is ready.
Sometimes the Spirit leaves breadcrumbs.
A sermon. An old map. A note in the margin. A shimmer of resonance you can’t quite explain. That’s how this blog began—tracing a quiet path of synchronicity that led me, unexpectedly but unmistakably, to the Presentation at the Temple in Luke 2. It’s a short passage—easily overlooked, but heavy with hidden meaning for those with eyes to see. Jesus was forty days old. And Simeon was waiting—waiting for the fulfillment of a personal promise from God, that he would not see death before seeing the Lord’s Messiah. A faithful servant, moved by the Spirit, he came to the temple that day not by chance, but by divine guidance. His life had been shaped by this expectation, this quiet hope pulsing beneath years of prayer. And in that moment, he knew: the promise was being fulfilled before his very eyes.
I had just come from a message about the spiritual war against family and the loss of generational leadership. (You can listen to the sermon here.) Then I found myself in an antique Bible Atlas I scored half off at the Antique Emporium, flipping through timelines and terrain, when I landed in the story of Simeon—cross-referencing a map of Jesus' early ministry in the New Testament. The morning’s message, the trip to the antique shop, the old book in my hands, the Spirit’s whisper—they weren’t random.
We all receive these invitations—Easter eggs, holy winks, small echoes that stir something eternal inside us. If something glimmers, lean in. It may be subtle, but it is not accidental. This is how God speaks to the ones who are listening, and He delights in it.
That same afternoon, the antique shop owner, Keith, said something that landed deep in me. I told him I was searching for old religious texts because I’ve been tracing a new thread in my faith—one that recognizes how much global religions actually share beneath their surfaces, lost in translation, context disregarded. That the arguments often arise not from essence, but from interpretation. And he said, without hesitation, “All religion is mere interpretation.”
It wasn’t cynical. It was freeing. It reminded me that language evolves, that context changes, that revelation continues, and that what matters most is the Spirit behind the words—not the rigidity of how they’re framed. That moment affirmed what I’ve come to believe: when the Spirit speaks, we don’t cling to a system—we respond to a stirring.
And this is how I found myself in the sacred tension between what has been and what is becoming—a reflection of a seeker, a mother, and those who know before the crowd.
Language, Sight, and Sacred Pattern
Some people feel truth in their bones long before they can name it. Before the words are formed, they sense the resonance. And even when the language does come—when metaphors emerge or new expressions unfold—it may be disorienting to those still rooted in inherited structures.
Language is context, delivery, and intent. It’s not just about vocabulary; it’s about vibrational clarity. It’s the vessel through which revelation flows. When spiritual vocabulary evolves, it’s not distortion—it’s deeper articulation. It’s the Spirit reshaping the mouth to match the heart.
When your eye is haplous—undivided—you begin to see the pattern. (You can explore more about the haplous eye in my earlier blog here.) The same divine intelligence revealing itself in scripture also pulses through nature, history, and even your own story. Pattern recognition becomes a sacred language of its own: the micro mirroring the macro, the inner life echoing the cosmic design. You see the harmony not because you're smarter, but because you're attuned. This is how the Spirit speaks—not only through doctrine, but through design.
This blog is for those whose hearts beat to that quieter rhythm—not with superiority, but with a kind of ache. With longing. With reverent responsibility.
Simeon, Mary, and the Piercing of Sight
For those in Mary’s line—the ones who carry truth tenderly, in hidden places, and live to see it resisted, misunderstood, even vehemently opposed. The ones who know the ache of seeing something sacred before others can bear to look at it.
We see it first in Luke 2, when Simeon, led by the Spirit, recognizes the Christ—not just as a child, but as the divine made flesh. He didn’t need a ritual, a crowd, or a clerical decree. It was divine recognizing divine. These knowings aren’t confirmed outwardly—they resound inwardly. The soul hears an echo, a quiet “Yes, I know you,” long before the mind can explain why. It is Spirit meeting Spirit. And for Simeon, that seeing was enough.
Simeon stands as a bridge between the old and the new—rooted in the prophecies of Israel, yet open to the in-breaking light of the Messiah. He is the keeper of the threshold. I find myself there too—honoring the deep roots my mother passed down, the scriptures and traditions that shaped me, while also embracing the deeper knowings the Spirit continues to reveal. It is not a rejection of the old, but a faithful carrying forward of what is eternal, made fresh again through Spirit-led insight.
And then Simeon speaks—not just over Jesus, but over Mary:
“Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.” // Luke 2:34–35 (italics mine)
This is a prophecy of piercing—not just for Jesus, but for those who love Him.
It’s not about being right or spiritually superior—it’s about bearing witness to a deeper pattern unfolding beneath appearances. Simeon saw it. Mary felt it. And we—those who carry spiritual sight in a resistant world—are invited to walk that same path.
This blog is for the faithful ones with haplous eyes—single, undivided eyes that can peer into the spiritual realm. These are the ones who see beyond appearances, who perceive the whisper behind the words, and recognize the sacred thread running through all things—who see clearly not because of religious authority, but because they are open to the Spirit’s voice.
To such as these, deeper knowings are revealed. As scripture says:
“The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God.” — 1 Corinthians 2:10
“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of kings to search it out.” — Proverbs 25:2
“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” — Jeremiah 33:3
These knowings aren’t stumbled upon by chance—they are revealed to those willing to look with Spirit-led eyes and seek with faithful hearts.
It’s for those whose inner knowing is often strangled by rigid religion. For those who’ve been told that God only fits in certain boxes, that Jesus must only be understood through one lens—or not at all. For those who have been accused of rebellion when all they’ve truly desired is reunion—when in fact, they are often carrying a knowing meant to be shared, not silenced. It is divine recognition calling out to divine presence in others. A truth that bypasses doctrine and speaks Spirit to Spirit.
A Sign That Is Opposed
The Transfiguration in Matthew 17 offers a glimpse—Jesus, radiant on the mountaintop, is revealed not as something new, but as who He has always been. (We’ll return to this fully in a future reflection on rebirth and sacred return.) For now, it serves as a mirror of recognition. Of divine light unveiled to a few who were ready to see.
This is not rebellion. It is reverence.
You are not deceived. You are discerning.
You are not casting off Christ—you are letting Him breathe again.
This blog is for those who:
Sense the sacred beneath the surface
Wrestle with inherited interpretations
Long to follow Jesus more truly, even when it means walking alone
Have felt the sword in their own soul—piercing, not punishing
Are willing to see Jesus again—with fresh eyes, unfiltered by dogma
You are not alone. You are in Mary’s line.
You walk with Simeon. You hear the Spirit. You see the Christ before the world names Him.
And your sight is part of the unveiling. Just as Christ was opposed and misunderstood, so too will you be. As Jesus said, “A servant is not greater than his master. If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.” // John 15:20
Even Jung’s psychological arc echoes this: the fall and rising, descent and ascent, shadow and light. The path of Jesus is the pattern of the soul. And those with eyes to see it—see it everywhere.
So to you, dear seer: your knowing is not strange. It is sacred.
Your hunger to reinterpret is not heresy. It is holy wrestling.
Your recognition is not arrogant. It is anchored in love.
And your voice, your sight, your faithful heart—may be opposed. But like Simeon’s, it will reveal the truth. It will bring light. It will welcome the unfolding of a kingdom not built by man, but rooted in God.
Stay tender. Stay brave. Stay open.
You knew too soon, perhaps. But not by mistake.
You were chosen to see.
And may your seeing always be rooted in love, and guided by light.
A Call to the Next Generation
And not just for your own clarity—but to serve as a lamppost for the next generation. To illuminate the path for those who are just beginning to feel the stirrings of Spirit. Your sight is a gift, but it is also a calling. You are helping to raise up the future spiritual leaders who will carry truth forward with courage, creativity, and compassion.
Like Mary, you may carry the knowing in silence, long before it’s seen. But she treasured it all—every strange, luminous, and painful moment—and pondered it in her heart. She didn’t rush to explain, to prove, or to be understood. She held space for what was sacred. And you, too, are invited to do the same. Because when the time comes, your seeing will become someone else’s confirmation. Your reverence will prepare the soil for their revelation.
In love + light,
April