Ascension Day

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking into the sky?”

It’s understandable, isn’t it? The disciples had been through a lot those past few weeks:

· The triumphant entry into Jerusalem,

· The agonising uncertainty of waiting in the Garden of Gethsemane,

· Jesus’ death.

Their world appeared to have ended, but then, against all the odds, Jesus is back! They must have been hoping that this time it would be for good; that it would be like old times – but this time for ever.

And now, forty days later, he disappears again and they are left alone, wondering what to do with themselves. No wonder that they stood gazing gormlessly upwards, unsure what to do next, wishing that it didn’t have to be like that. Why couldn’t Jesus have stayed with them? How could they possibly manage without him to lead them? What was this “Holy Spirit” that he had promised them?

And aren’t we sometimes like those disciples? Gazing wistfully back at past glories, wishing that things could be as they used to be: when the last minister but two was here, or before Sunday trading gave people so many alternatives to coming to church on a Sunday, or before young people lost all respect for authority.

When change happens – and change is inevitable – do we greet it with enthusiasm or bemoan the fact that things will never be the same again? It’s easy to be like the disciples, seeing only that Jesus has gone, and not, initially, understanding that his ascension is a necessary preliminary to Pentecost and, ultimately, to his coming again.

A valued member of the congregation moves away – what are we going to do, now that he or she won’t be there to organise the stewards’ rota, play the organ, arrange the flowers, lead the midweek discussion group, or whatever?

Our minister moves on and we are told that the circuit can’t afford to appoint a replacement – what are we going to do now that we will have to share our minister with 3 other churches?

Our circuit merges with an adjoining one – how will we cope as part of such a wide area, with so many different churches? What will the ministers and local preachers from “the other half” be like?

Why can’t things carry on the way they always were?

Of course, we all know that there isn’t a “way things always were”. Statistics tell us that the long hot summers of our childhood were, in fact, no longer or hotter than those that we experience nowadays. Classical writings tell us that every generation finds the manners and behaviour of those younger than themselves reprehensible.

Change happens all the time and we have to learn to embrace it and make the most of it.

Will it really be so difficult to find someone else to organise the rota? If we have no organist, why not explore the possibility of CDs or an organ that plays itself? Perhaps there are lots of potential flowers arrangers who didn’t like to put themselves forwards for fear of offending Jim or Betty (who always do them). Maybe the midweek discussion group would benefit from a change of leader – someone with fresh ideas?

Fewer minsters could be an opportunity for more lay people to get involved in pastoral care and preaching.

A bigger circuit offers more variety of preachers – for better or worse!

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking into the sky?”

Maybe they were looking up in hope that they would soon follow Jesus up into heaven themselves. After all, he had promised to go ahead and prepare a place for them there.

We too are encouraged to hope for the heavenly kingdom and to look forward to being with God for eternity.

New pastures are before us, which yet we have not seen,

Blue skies will soon be o’er us, where darkest clouds have been.

Do we manage to hold on to that hope through all the changing scenes of life?

When we come to church on Sundays, do we come with the expectation of catching a glimpse of heaven? Are we confident that our prayers and praises will ascend with Christ to his, and our, heavenly Father?

If so, then we are indeed blessed, but that may still not be enough: we are also charged with building God’s kingdom here on Earth. Are we ever in danger of being “so heavenly minded that we are no Earthly use?”

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking into the sky?”

Perhaps they might have answered in the words of the psalmist: “I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help.”

We look up to heaven in search of help and guidance, not just for the afterlife but for life here and now. We trust in the promise that Christ will come again, but we also trust in his promise that he will send to us the Holy Spirit to enliven us in our ministry to our neighbours in the hours, or years, or centuries before that happens.

In the Bible we hear about lots of “mountain top experiences”:

· Moses meets God on Mount Sinai and receives the Ten Commandments;

· Elijah meets God in a still small voice on Mount Horeb;

· The Transfiguration of Jesus takes place “up a high mountain”;

· The ascension takes place on the Mount of Olives.

We too have our mountain-top experiences – times when God feels particularly close and real. Remembering them can help us to keep our faith alive through dry patches and difficult times, but we can’t expect to stay on top of the mountain all the time.

It’s a bit like the difference between “being in love” and settling down together for a lifetime of marriage. The initial emotional high can’t be expected to last – indeed, how would we cope if it did? – but what replaces it can, and should, be something more deep and sustainable, a relationship that can last “for better, for worse”.

Like the disciples, we need to be prepared to come down from the mountain and return to Jerusalem, ready for whatever work God has planned for us to do. Like them, we need sometimes to wait patiently for the Holy Spirit to reveal to us what that plan may be. Like them, we need to be prepared to go out into the world to serve our fellow men and women.

Why do you stand here looking into the sky?

Are you looking back to a golden age when preachers were real preachers and minister were real ministers, when churches and Sunday schools were full every week, when there was a real sense of community in our neighbourhood and we could go out leaving our front door unlocked?

Are you looking forward to the New Jerusalem – and if so, are you ready to work to bring it about?

Are you waiting on the Lord, hoping to hear his voice calling you to follow him?

Let us pray.

God of love and life and peace, give us a spirit of wisdom and humility. Open our eyes to see your power at work among us. Open our ears that we may hear your wisdom calling us.

Thank you for the mountain-top experiences. Help us to be ready to come down from the mountain refreshed and ready to serve you with greater energy and stronger faith, remembering always that it is your power, not ours, that gives us hope for new life and peace.

In Jesus Christ our Lord we pray. Amen.