| May 16
- May 16, 2010
Ascension Day is not a big church holiday. But it has one thing going for it the others don’t have: the world can't steal it. Even though the secular world originally owned Christmas as a festival to the sun, before Christians stole it, our materialistic culture has “turned the other cheek,” ruining both Christmas and Easter!But like these significant holidays, the Ascension will always remain a mystery, because it’s beyond the scope of human experience; there’s nothing to compare it to. The Bible states matter-of-factly: Jesus and his followers were gathered on the slopes of Mt. Olivet. When Jesus said his goodbyes and lifted up his nail-scarred hands in blessing, he commenced to rise off the ground supernaturally, and a cloud bore him out of sight! It was a heavenly ending to his earthly ministry. Just as death couldn’t keep him down, neither could the earth -- when the time came for him to return to wherever he was before he came here.
One of the hardest challenges for human beings is letting go. There’s even an awful current TV show, about “Hoarders.” To see some of the junk and clutter people hold onto, is disgusting. There must be some appeal to it, because having to let go of our places, our things, one another is never easy. But it’s part of the process of living. And the older we get, the more we better get used to it. The Bible knows about that. In the biblical world-view, the earth is flat and heaven is up. But our outlook has been colored by Copernicus and Galileo, which makes it difficult to understand the Ascension. One way of looking at it is, it’s the day Jesus “left us behind.” But when he departed from this earth for heaven, it left the disciples gaping into the sky.
There is no non-prejudicial information about Jesus. He was a much-hated, much-loved man. So what we have is either for or against him. So it’s natural that the disciples tried to cling to him, when the time came to say goodbye-for-good. Mary’s first instinct in the Garden was to latch onto Jesus, only to hear him flinch: “Don’t hold onto me!” Maybe because God knows that clinging to somebody has a crippling effect on all involved. Clinging to anything, is a sign of unhealthy dependency that causes stagnation. Jesus expected his followers to stand on their own feet. Our inability to let go inhibits us from moving on to the next chapter of our journey. It won’t allow freedom for either the clinger or the clingee. Both end up stunted. God knows our tendency to seek security in what lies behind.
Moses was also deeply loved by his followers. When he died, the Book of Dueteronomy declares: “The people mourned the loss of Moses for 30 days, but then they moved on...” But before they could “move on,” they first had to “let go.” The sequence is important. People stubbornly stay stuck, even when we know better, because one of life’s hardest experiences is to let-go of anything. The biblical view for Moses or Jesus is: mourning is acceptable, but not clinging. God has never thought much of that, in either the old days or the new, because of what it does to us and others.
So it was for Jesus’ disciples at the Ascension. If they were to be “witnesses FOR Jesus,” first they had to “let go OF Jesus.” The hardest challenge is to let-go of somebody you love because it’s contrary to being in relationship. Yet letting go is a necessary and inevitable part of living. We have expertise on any subject you can think of, except for drilling oil perhaps. So where are the experts at letting go? This is especially tough on preachers or any vocation built on relationships.
My wife and I attended a conference this week in Hartford, Connecticut, and a major topic of discussion was how hard it is for preachers to leave their familiar place of service. Having been at this for 43 years, I understand that. How do you spend your life preparing and serving, doing something you love, and then just walk away from it? It’s not easy to carry the title “reverend,” and a whole lot harder to lay it down.
Lest we think the resurrection was the climax, the Bible says “there’s more!” Even after Easter. The church fathers wisely set aside the climax of Jesus’ life to teach us we cannot become what we are meant to be unless we learn the art of letting go. But letting go is a two-way street. It’s not just the disciples who must let go of Jesus, because Jesus had to let go too. He called them out of their vocations to an itinerant ministry. He was their teacher and they were his students. But they were more than that. Jesus and the twelve had been through it all. They traveled together, slept together, fought together, ministered together, ate together, slept together, got in trouble together. They worshiped and prayed together, shared common rituals together; died together. At the last supper, they celebrated Passover and Jesus became like a slave girl and “washed their feet.”
Thirteen guys, bound together from varied backgrounds, became “family,” in complex, intimate ways; building a unique history. Through it all, Jesus was training them; loving them. They were more than disciples; they were his “friends.” He prepared them to be preachers of the gospel; teachers of scripture; healers of persons. It was a tall order. And in order for them to become effective “witnesses of these things,” Jesus had to let them go, so they could do it on their own. Jesus was no micro-manager; rather he was a gutsy teacher with no ego to guard, who opened his arms and set his disciples free; trusting them to do the job better than he did. If you can understand something of what that takes, then you’ll have no trouble with the Ascension. It’s the biblical way of saying: the time has come to let go.
So like anything profound, it’s a mixed bag: both a celebration of a success, as well as a scary absence; a lengthy interim. And that time inevitably comes to us all, someday. The Ascension meant the disciples would not have Jesus to rely on anymore. It meant losing their security; and it’s back to that ol’ minimum protection. Maximum support stuff. But that’s what it’s like being on your own. It also means being free, to be the disciples they were trained to be and fulfill their destiny, which laces sadness into the triumphal story. Having to let go of someone you love is like that. For awhile it was sad for the disciples, who saw it as an ending to something good. It was too soon for them to envision something better. All they knew was the days of Jesus on this earth were over and they were linked to someone who is independent of space and time.
But the completion of the earthly chapter also meant a new beginning. Luke also pointed out that the disciples didn’t leave the scene broken-hearted. The angels were perplexed, "Why do you stand here looking into the sky?" It was this earth, not the sky, they should be occupied with; to be witnesses not stargazers!Which is to say our calling is not upwards in nostalgia, but outward in compassion. At the Ascension Jesus left the here for the everywhere; he traded time for eternity; he vacated the 1st century to fill every century. It’s not subtraction but multiplication. It’s almost as if he exploded, so that all the holiness that was once concentrated in him flew all over the place! & the seeds of heaven were sown in every field on earth!
So where does that leave those who are “left behind.” For the disciples, it meant they were “on the clock.” It would be a lot easier if Jesus were still here. It’s hard to imagine how they felt, as their leader left them. Who wouldn’t be gazing up after that? They could have stood around for days, hoping for Jesus to float back down and say, “Geez ya’ll, I was just kiddin’! Let’s go catch some fish!” So now what? You hear that a lot at times of parting. Now what? The person I thought would always be around, is no longer here. Now what? The security I thought I’d always have is gone. Now what? The kids I thought would always need me are off on their own. What’s next?
While we sit here together in worship this morning, as is our custom; are we “creigning our necks” like the disciples -- looking up for a glimpse of Jesus; putting God’s work on hold until we get some confirmation that this paradoxical Christianity is even doable in this kind of world? Is our church-going an exercise in hope of experiencing a presence that would make sense of our fear of absence; a definitive truth, to counteract the absurdities of life? Maybe. And that’s OK too.
All of us go through down-times, when that’s all we have to offer; simply to sit down and look up. But if we ONLY spend our time doing that, then we’ve lost our mission! We don’t have the benefit of three years of constant teaching from Jesus. But we have something else. We have this church. And the scriptures. And the bread and the cup. We have each other. This is our training ground, where we can hear about and practice the grace of God and the forgiveness of sins. This is where we hopefully learn how to love somebody, before it’s too late. But if the extent of our faith starts and ends here, we’re just looking up.
We are called to come here. And also to “look up,” so we can go out there and “look around.” We show up at The Meeting House on Sunday mornings to listen and learn, to sing and taste, to be reminded of who we are and how we’re to live. So we can go out there and be his witnesses. There’s nothing wrong with “looking up,” or wishing God were close by, or waiting and hoping for something good. As long as it doesn't distort the whole picture, namely, that the Ascension is a three‑part story: Luke and Acts…and us.
Now we're “on the clock!” But our lives won’t be just ticking away, if we take seriously our calling to continue the work that Jesus began, no matter now imperfectly. We “look up” for a reason: to get the answer to “now what?” It is now the business of the church to busy itself reaching out to comfort the afflicted, companion the lonely, to confront evil, speaking a word of truth in a world full of lies, to try to make a difference for good in somebody’s life; to the end that we might leave the world a better place than if we’d never been here. And we will neither have lived nor died ... in vain.
Providence Prayers: (5-16-10)
Forgive us for trying to restore the past rather than allowing Thee to fashion the future. And for limiting our mission to the boundaries we set; trying to shrink the world to those people and places most like us. We give Thee thanks for the promise of new life among us, and the hope that we shall see again, those who’ve passed on before us. We praise Thee that Thy grace is greater than our sinning, Thy love, stronger than our dying, Thy mercy, mightier than our suffering.
We remember all for whom life is hard--those trying to do too much; others forced to come to terms with their losses, some who see their health declining, the lonely and confused. For all coping with transition times. We would not forget to pray for ourselves and our church, with the tall spire that stretches every nerve skyward. May this day of worship and reflection on the Ascension remind us that Jesus left us behind, so he could come within.
Push aside the interior clutter in our souls that demand our time, attention, and effort and let us walk with Thee for a little while -- energized by Thy gracious Spirit. In Christ’s distant presence, we offer our lives anew under his lordship, so we can stop looking up into heaven for the Jesus who was, that we might serve the Jesus who is. May his “goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives that we may dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” in the name of the Creator, the Christ and the Comforter we pray. Amen. |
