By Minister James Rach
If we get anything from our reading in Acts today, we might have to point out that at times, it seems, angels can be a bit insensitive. While the disciples stand and by accounts dazed and broken by the ascension event, these two in white robes suddenly appear not to console them, but to challenge them. “Why do you stand looking up towards heaven?” I mean, the angels know why, or at least they should. The disciple’s eyes are glued to the very spot in the heavens that just devoured Jesus. And the disciples are trying to keep their eyes on Jesus. That has been a somewhat difficult task in recent weeks. They already lost him once, they didn’t want that to happen again. But now he is gone. For the second time in just six weeks. Once again they are powerless to stop him, and now, all they have left is a limitless empty sky. The second wound stinging even as the first wounds are still fresh in their minds.
Holy Week had affected them deeply. They had just stood by and watched as he was dragged away and killed on a cross. And they thought they would never see him again. But, three days later he returned. And their grief was replaced by a strange mix of terror and joy and confusion. It made no sense, it was nothing they expected. But Jesus had returned, and all the pain seemed to go away. The disciples now thought on this side of the resurrection they would have a sort of invincibility. Their leader was risen from the dead, a proof he could show every doubter by the wounds in his hands and feet and side. Every opponent would fall at his feet. Every sceptic would now receive their gospel message with eager gladness. He was back and they were ready.
But now forty days after the resurrection, the disciples are staring blankly at the sky and Jesus once again has left them with all of their dreams withering away. Of course they were just standing there looking up toward heaven. There was nowhere to go. And then two men in white robes question jarred them out of their daydream and back into reality. There was nothing to see in the sky, there was nothing to see in the heavens. It was time to refocus. To lower their gaze.
It seems a strange thing to say but we celebrate Jesus exiting. Not only do we celebrate it in the church calendar, but we find it in our creeds, and we find it in our prayers. In some ways the ascension lives at the heart of the Christian faith. That we celebrate Jesus’s ascension in this present time, would probably surprise those eleven disciples who watched him leave. This event, to them, did not seem like a cause for celebration. Why not just stay?
And if I was one of the disciples wondering what this strange event meant, I would probably have tried my best to remember the words he had last said, looking for clues. What were the last words Jesus said? After all of the profound sayings and timeless parables, what was the last words he went out with? “You will be my witnesses to the ends of the earth.” And that is the answer, that is why the ascension. That is why he left.
You can take a tiny drop of concentrated food coloring and drop it in a sizable container of water, and when it dissolves it forever changes the color of that water. Jesus left so that his presence would grow. So that the love that once dwelled in a single body, might cover the earth, might fill the universe. So the message would spread, that the gospel would move out to all the world. Jesus leaves, but that is not the end of the story. As he goes up, he sends us out. We have the green light, and we have to get going.
Because the message doesn’t move if we don’t move. The message doesn’t move if the church stands staring at the sky. We are not meant to die looking up, we are not meant to die just waiting. We are sent out. Jesus leaves us with this dismissal. And the dismissal is always a call to mission.
But the truth is most days it is easier to live with our heads in the clouds. Because down here on the ground, it is impossible to avoid the pain and struggle and suffering that will inevitably leave scars on your heart and soul. Down here in the mud, you will see things no one should see, and hear things no one should hear, and think things no one should think, and feel things no one should have to feel. And to escape the chaos down here on the ground you might turn your eyes toward heaven. Maybe you’ll even hum so old spiritual like ‘I’ll fly away’ as you look up and dream of your escape from here.
They say that in heaven there are no more tears. And no more crying, and no more pain. There, children do not die as collateral damage in conflicts, and loved ones do not succumb do a senseless death from a strange pandemic. And peace replaces the anxiety that seems to flood our lives through computer, cell phone, and television screens.
Heaven is the best distraction from this world yet created. And it is easy to turn our eyes away from the things that haunt this earth to the dreams of some distant heaven. But heaven is not interested in your interest. At least not just yet. The angels are quick to break our gaze with their question “why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” And Jesus is quick to remind us that we still have work to do right here on earth.
And it turns out those very things that want to make us divert our attention, the pain, the struggle, the suffering, and the chaos of this world, are the very reason the angels break our heavenward gaze. We want to look up because this world is filled with terrible things. But we are called by Jesus to look into the terror, into the pain, into the suffering.
Jesus did not ascend to hide in the sky. He did not leave to avoid the messiness of this world. Jesus ascended into every broken heart that would offer him a place. He ascended so he could fill every empty space, hold every suffering child, comfort every mourning parent. He ascended so this anxious word could live and move and have its being in the sacred heart of Christ.
The ascension is not an escape. It is God raining down divinity on this world, so no one, no one, would have to suffer alone again.
And we are the witnesses. Jesus is sending us out with this story, this story we have lived and experienced in our lives. And so, we can not stand staring at the sky, we cannot dream away our days thinking about heaven, our mission is on the ground. On street corners, and at crossroads, and at dead ends. Our mission is here, where sometimes our bended knees meet cold pavement, where bodies are broken, where tired souls long for rest.
It is time for the church to lower our eyes. If we are looking for Jesus, he’s not hiding in the clouds. So why do stand looking up toward heaven? If we are looking for Jesus, perhaps we should lower our gaze. We are much more likely to find him down in the muck.