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Six weeks ago, We gathered in this sanctuary to worship God on Easter Sunday. Among the sights, sounds, and smell of Resurrection, we laid claim once again to some essentials of our Christian faith: Christ lived for us, Christ died for us, Christ was raised for us. Love – God’s love – is stronger than death and doubt. Amid every moment of destruction or despair, the seeds of new life are already being sown by our God who calls us God’s own. Alleluia! Alleluia! we proclaimed then and over these last six weeks to remind us of the glorious good news: Christ is risen! Today we find ourselves at a juncture in our liturgical season, in the way we tell and hear and are invited to remember – and to live! – the story of God’s love and the ways that love made real in Jesus Christ. Today is Ascension Sunday, the Sunday that transitions us from the Easter event and the Easter season to the Pentecost event, when the disciples and all those gathered in Jerusalem received the power of the Holy Spirit. There are two descriptions of the ascension of Jesus found in our Scripture, one in the gospel of Luke and one in the book of the Acts of the Apostles. You might recall last week we learned that these two books in our New Testament are related; Scholars think they were written by the same author. Today we hear the ascension narrative from the book of Acts. And so let us listen, beloved in Christ, for the word of God given to us: ACTS 1:1-11 I wonder if the ascension was harder for the disciples than the crucifixion. Oh, seeing Jesus lifted up on the cross was heart wrenching – So heart wrenching that many of them – Save for a few of the women – could bear to watch. And when Jesus died, the grief was overwhelming, as was the fear and despair. And then, the women went to the tomb, and came back and told them the good news: Jesus has been raised! He appeared to them, Talked with them, ate with them, Laughed and cried with them, Gave them peace and the promise of the Holy Spirit. And, as we hear this morning, He was with them for forty days, Preaching the kingdom of God, Just as he had done before the awful events of betrayal, desertion, and death. Forty days – Long enough to forget what had happened at Calvary, Long enough to get used to having Jesus around again, Long enough to hear Jesus speaking about the kingdom, Long enough to breathe again, get their hopes up again. We can hear the hope, the expectation in the Scripture. The disciples press Jesus: Is it time? Is this the time you will restore us to a kingdom of political gain and power? Like children in the back seat of the car on a long drive, they ask: “Are we there yet? Are we there YET?” And Jesus tells them: You don’t get to know the time. What you do get is the power of the Holy Spirit. What you do get is to be my witnesses to all the world. And then – even though Jesus had spoken about it before, the hour comes, when Jesus is lifted up again, not on the cross, but on a cloud, taken away from his friends. As they watch him depart, It’s heart wrenching all over again. This time, I wonder if the hopelessness and despair went even deeper, ripping an even wider tear into the souls and spirits. No wonder they keep their eyes upward, Watching Jesus depart from them. And although the Scripture doesn’t record it, I can almost imagine the disciples with hands in the air, Grasping for Jesus to return to them, So they can have their old life and hopes and dreams back. But we know what that’s like, don’t we? We know what it’s like to want to hold on to the past, to cling to someone or something from the past, wishing that things would stay forever the same. Some of us long for a time when life was simpler, and supposedly easier - When there were only two kinds of coffee – Regular and decaf – and one store to shop in town. Some of us long for the day when our bones were stronger, when we could read the bulletin without holding it ten inches away from us. Some of us long for a time when our children were younger, When they didn’t drive, or stay out past 8:00 PM, Or when they listened to everything we said. Some of us long for the day when everybody came to church every Sunday; Maybe even when there was only one hymnal in the pews. Some of us long for the day – And I’ll put myself (and maybe Barbara, too into this category) when community life was centered around church life, and our children and families and adults didn’t have to make choices between church and sports or school or other important events. Sisters and brothers, We can look to the past, And watch and wait – And maybe even work – for the “good old days” to return, Maybe that’s what the disciples were watching for, Waiting for as they fixed their eyes to the sky. As they are standing there, two men in white robes appear – calling the disciples back, calling us back, back to the future. Why are you looking up? There is work to be done, Questions to be wrestled with, Challenges to be met, joy to be had, and testimony to be given. You might remember that there were white-robed men at the empty tomb as well. They asked a question there as well: Why do you look for the living among the dead? With their questions at the resurrection and the ascension, They announce to the disciples that God invites them – Invites us – To move from the place where we are, To continue the journey, To go forward – learning from the past – into a new future of hope and possibility. There are moments, times in our lives, when something or some person must depart in order for the next thing to happen. We learned it when we were younger and played on the monkey bars: You literally have to let go of one rung in order to get to the next one. Friends, our lives - Our church lives, Our family lives , Our lives of faith, Are often about letting go – Of our expectations, Or our of preconceived notions of the way we are or the way God is, Our past failures or sins, Or the hurt that someone else has caused us. Brothers and sisters, God doesn’t invite us to the spiritual exercise of letting go just for fun or fancy, or to cause us pain or struggle. God invites us to let go to make room for something else, some new possibility to live more deeply and fully as God’s people and Christ’s friends. Perhaps the ascension was necessary. If the Risen Christ continued to be present in the lives of the disciples, there would be no need for them to become the ones to share the good news in word and deed, no need for them to preach and teach and heal and make disciples. The disciples needed, I think, to let go of the earthly Jesus, so they could welcome the Holy Spirit – promised by Jesus – into their hearts and lives. We have the same promise from Jesus. In just a few days from now – A week from now, We will gather to worship and celebrate Pentecost. The Spirit will bring to us, Just as it did to the first disciples, New gifts and power for ministry and for being the church. If we let it, The Spirit will give us new ways of being the church together – Different than the past, For the church is always different in each generation. If we let the Spirit in, The church will be just as vital and vibrant, Just as relative and relational. As we prepare to celebrate Pentecost, As we make ourselves ready to receive the Spirit anew, I wonder if we participate in the exercise of letting go this coming week. Perhaps you and I have some fear or frustration or failure to release from our hearts; Our pride or prejudice or power. Maybe we need to release any hopelessness or sense of despair we have about the church, And make room in us and in this sanctuary and in this church for the wind and breath of God. Brothers and sister, Let us enter this time of waiting and watching and letting go together, Being lifted up by God’s grace and blessing. Amen and alleluia. Friends, Let us watch and wait together for the promise of the Spirit, The promise of Pentecost, |