Ascension Sunday
Gospel Reading: Luke 24: 44-53
When I was six years old, the training wheels of my Disney princess bike were taken off. Up until that point in my young life, I was comfortable with my training wheels; they made me feel safe and secure and confident in myself as a bike rider. So confident, in fact, that I was convinced my dad could take the training wheels off and I would just ride off into the sunset perfectly balanced on two wheels.
You can imagine how that went. I fell. Hard. Many times.
Despite falling over and over again, my dad told me I could do it and all I needed was practice. He said he’d help me learn. So, day by day we went up and down the street with one of my his hands on my handle bar, and the other rested on the back of the seat. Day by day, I grew more confident and his hand disappeared from the handle bar. Day by day, we went up and down the street with only one of his hands on the back of the seat. Until one day, he let go. Of course, I didn’t realize he had let go until I was half down the block and looked back to see him in the distance.
He was right. I learned to ride to a bike without training wheels. Grinning ear from ear, I kept on riding. All the way around the block, because I was too afraid to make a sharp turn. But I was just ecstatic! I was filled with joy! Upon the return from my victory lap, I was greeted with smiles and hugs. It was a moment to celebrate.
Metaphorically, Jesus’ ascension into heaven is a moment when the disciples’ training wheels come off. They watch as their Savior is whisked into the heavens, and now, they are on their own. Jesus is no longer present in his physical form. Now, they’ve got to figure out how to ride this bike without training wheels.
But the disciples are not wholly unprepared for this moment in Bethany. They have followed Jesus around for about three years, they have witnessed his teaching and healing; they have watched Jesus break bread with tax collectors and sinners, they stood at a distance on the day he was crucified, and have just stood in his resurrected presence. The disciples have been by Jesus’ side throughout his whole ministry and now the Gospel writer of Luke is making space for the disciples to carry on the work of the resurrected Jesus.
The work of bringing good news to the poor, proclaiming release to the captives, recovery of the sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (Luke 4:18-19). Jesus’ story moves forward in their stories. And now, the disciples share in the story of resurrection. They have the insight that death does not have the final word because they have seen Jesus in his resurrected body. The disciples have resurrection faith.
Perhaps this is why they do not cry out with sadness or shout angry curses to the heavens when Jesus departs? Instead they are filled with great joy and they return to the Temple continually praising God.
Jesus’ ascension is not a moment of grief, but a moment of hope. It is not a moment of experiencing God far away, but a moment of sensing God drawing near; a realization that God’s story in the world does conclude with Jesus’ ascension but continues on through the lives of the disciples, through our lives as disciples.
This past Friday, I read an online blog post from a person named Daudi Msseemma, an ELCA representative in East Africa. In this blog, Msseemma talks about the lived experiences of rural people in his area of Tanzania, particularly the Maasai people: an indigenous ethnic group who reside in the northern, central and southern regions of Kenya and the northern region of Tanzania.
Msseemma writes how rural people, like the Maasai, are accustomed to cycles of plenty and poverty. During a severe drought in 2008-2009, he spent time in villages where the carcasses of livestock littered the ground and hungry children fainted in classrooms. He witnessed a lot of suffering. But he did not encounter hopelessness. He describes a saying common to the people of that area: “God is far, but he is very near.”
In the Maasai traditional religion, there is a belief that in the good times God is near with all God’s communal blessings. In the times of drought and communal suffering, God is far. But even when God is far, it won’t be long before he comes back.
Msseemma is careful to note that this belief is not intended to minimize the suffering of those experiencing hardship. He writes there is no healthy outlook or ideology that will help you pass painlessly through losing loved ones or being unable to feed your children. Rather, it’s a hopeful posture through pain—an understanding that pain is a season and it will pass.
In times like these, when we are weary of sheltering in place and watching this pandemic continue to affect the people of the world, it would be easy to say that God is far away. But Scripture tells us that God is a present help in times of trouble (Psalm 46). God never leaves us.
On the day Jesus departed for the heavens, he made a promise. A promise to send upon the disciples power from on high. He tells the disciples to wait in Jerusalem until they have been clothed with this power from on high. The promised power of the Holy Spirit is coming.
It the power of the Holy Spirit which will give birth a new kind of community: the church. The body of Christ. It is power of the Holy Spirit poured out upon all flesh that will empower the disciples to ride their bike and bring the good news of the resurrection to every nation, to all people.
On the day we were baptized, our Lutheran theology tells us that we received the gift of the Holy Spirit. The same Spirit promised by Jesus on the day of Ascension. The same Spirit poured out upon the disciples on the day of Pentecost. The same Spirit who is walking alongside us in these days— encouraging us to ride our bikes through these times of weariness and uncertainty to proclaim good news, to do justice and to love our neighbor. As we wobble on this bike together, as we find our new rhythms, as we anticipate the new thing that God will do when this season passes: we are not alone. God may feel far away, but God will never leave us.
Thanks be to God!