Standing At The Death-bead

Yesterday, I sat with a wife as her husband lay dying. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last, I'm sure, but it always humbles me to be present in those last moments. It's both tender and intimate, watching a loved one say good-bye, as well as sad and frightening. While we believe what Jesus tells us about death and life, the grave and resurrection, it's still a frightening experience to die...and to watch someone die. God created us to live, not die: literally, this is not "natural," in the purest sense of the term. And to stand there, and reassure both the dying and the surviving is both an honor and humbling moment. 

I prayed the Commendation of the Dying - similar to Last Rights in the Catholic traditiin. The sign of the cross - the same sign, once made on the forehead and heart in Holy Baptism, commending the child to the Lord's promises - was used to commend the dying septuigenarian to the Father's care for a final time as I said, "May God the Father, who created this body, may God the Son, who redeemed this body with His blood, and may God the Holy Spirit, who sanctified this body, bless and keep you to the day of the Resurrection of all flesh."

A short time later, he breathed his last. It was finished: Tetelestai.

That last word of Jesus from the Cross: it was a word of defeat. Not His - that's a common misconception! It was Christ declaring the defeat of satan and the eternal threat of the grave. It's as if Jesus was saying this:

It is finished, satan - you no longer have a hold over My people. It is finished, death - I'm taking a three-day Sabbath rest in the grave and then I will rise, alive and triumphant. It is finished, grave - you are no longer an eternal marker of damnation, but a resting place until I return to claim those who die trusting My promises. 

That's the privilege and honor I have as a parish pastor. In the midst of grief and sadness, I get to speak those words of life against death, light against darkness, and hope against hopelessness. 

Jesus Liquidates the Demon's Assets - Luke 8:26-39

We know of Jesus as the victim who trades His live for ours, who dies the sinner’s death, who goes to the cross to surrender Himself so that we do not die eternally. This is true and this is the heart of the Gospel. But, it is important that we also remember that Jesus is also the victor, the conquering conqueror who defeats the devil, going so far as to march to the very depths of hell to proclaim His victory and not even the gates of hell can withstand Him. This morning’s Gospel, in a powerfully prophetic way, demonstrates this very power of Jesus. 

In the country of the Gerasenes, Jesus is met by a man who was plagued by demons - so many demons they simply are named “Legion”. One cannot be too graphic when describing this poor man’s story. It was the stuff of Hollywood – a man so out-of-his-mind with demonic possession that He was banished, excommunicated from the community, shackled and locked away from the proper elements of society. This poor man was literally left for dead, living among the tombs, until he would break free and run, naked and screaming into the wilderness. We hear this story and we’re not sure if we should cry in sympathy or writhe in fear. If you were to encounter him, part of you wants to look; part of you wants to hide your eyes.

Today, if we encountered  a man like this, he would be court-ordered to be be pharmaceutically sedated and placed into an institution for his safety and well being. Chances are he would never see a pastor, but he would see plenty of mental health professionals.  But this was real – neither a movie nor a psychotic episode at all. We have lost our sense of awe with the devil. We treat him like a Hollywood story. In fact, I had a teenager tell me exactly that, once – that the devil was a legend parents made up to get kids to go to church.  He’s quite real. And so was this man’s demonic possession.

There was no help for this man. I’m sure the Jewish exorcists had tried. They had exorcists, but no one could help this man. Not until Jesus came to town.

“What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” The demons knew who Jesus was. Never forget: Jesus is even the Lord over satan and his minions, and they tremble in fear at the sight of Him. They know the power of Jesus’ word, and they know their time is short. I’m convinced that these satanic confessors said this to see what He was up to and to garner unwanted attention for Jesus. Anything to keep Jesus away from His cross and appointed victory over the devil. His resurrection would be their exorcism, and they want to do what they can to deter Jesus’ cross-focused journey.

We know Jesus to be merciful. But when they plead, “I beg you, do not torment me,” Jesus does not show mercy. He’s come to judge them and to undo their work. Knowing their fate, they try to negotiate with Him. The Abyss is their place of eternal torment and imprisonment. They would rather be in a herd of pigs. This is, after all, Gentile country. You’d never see a herd of pigs in Israel. But here in the Gerasenes, there are pigs, and with the permission of Jesus, they become demon-possessed pigs that rush headlong down a steep bank and into the lake and are drowned. All this, right in front of the herdsmen looking on, watching their profits go over a cliff like lemmings into the sea.

The scene was too much… over the top weird…frightening. And that Jesus is just too much trouble to have around. He showed up and all hell literally broke loose, and now there’s a herd of precious pigs floating in the sea. Jesus, 1; Demons, 0. The miracle is a picture preview of the judgment of the devil and his demons, when they will be cast into the lake of fire to be tormented day and night forever and ever.  

Meanwhile, the man is now clothed and in his right mind. Just like that. No extensive rehab. Nothing. Just a word from Jesus, the demons depart, and the man’s life and mind is in order again. Everything that had plagued him had gone into the pigs and was drowned in the water. And all with nothing more than a word from Jesus. He wanted to follow Jesus, join Jesus’ band of disciples and go back to Galilee with Jesus. Who could blame him? He wanted to be a part of this man’s group who had literally saved his life from a legion of demons. But Jesus had other plans for him. He sent him away, back to his home. He would be Jesus’ “man on the ground” in the Gerasenes, among the Gentiles, outside the borders of Israel. “Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” He’s of much more use to Jesus where he is, “to declare the praises of Him who called him out of darkness into His marvelous light.” And that’s what he did. He told everyone in the whole city what Jesus had done for him. And you can be sure the people listened.

Our terrors and curiosities are piqued by stories such as this. We want to know more about the dark and horrible realm of the demonic. There are tv shows and movies about this stuff. Skeptics scoff at the whole thing and call it silly superstition. Others are terrified by it and find a demon under every rock and in every closet. The Scriptures are relatively silent on the matter, and for good reason. There’s no good that comes from the darkness, only death and destruction. There is the Triune God, and there is the Devil. That’s it. If it’s not Jesus, it’s satan. There is such a creature as the devil, Satan, the Evil One, the father of lies and a murderer. He tempted Eve, our mother, to disobey God’s Word. He stalks about like a roaring lion, seeking the stray and the weak in the herd, looking for someone to devour. There are demons and forces of darkness operating in the world. People ask me, what do I think about ghosts. Well, there is no evidence for ghosts in the Bible, but there are plenty of incidents with demons. And it would be just like the father of lies and his hordes to pose as disembodied souls. I wouldn’t even trust Caspar, the friendly ghost, or Tony Danza catching my touchdown pass.

We are not as bad off as that poor man in the Gerasenes. We have homes. We have our sanity, mostly. If there is a legion of demons, they are pretty much quiet. But the darkness of our Sin is just as deep. The bonds that hold us captive to Sin and Death are just as strong as the chains that bound that man. We walk in the valley of the shadow of death each and every day of our lives, usually unaware of the forces of evil that surround us. There are the occasional outbursts where pure and unvarnished “evil” rears its ugly head and draws our attention. The mass shootings at schools and theaters and college campuses are one example. We may call the perpetrators “insane” because that’s the best description we have. But underlying it is a demonic darkness we don’t even want to discuss.

We are powerless against this. But Christ isn’t. He entered this present darkness to bring the light of His life. The darkness trembled when Jesus prayed in the darkness, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit.” The darkness trembled at the sound of His “It is finished”. He, who on the cross was as naked as that poor man in the Gerasenes, rose clothed in glory in the radiance of the morning sun. There is no darkness Jesus hasn’t entered. No death He hasn’t died. No sin He hasn’t born. No hell into which He hasn’t descended. There is no place where Jesus is not Lord.

You are baptized into Christ. You were reminded of this again this morning. Freed from the chains of Sin and Death. Clothed with the robe of Jesus’ righteousness. Jesus is the healing of your mind as well as your body and soul. He sets our minds right again in repentance. A change of mind. A healing of the mind. Whatever plagues you, whatever troubles you, whatever isolates you from others and drives you into your personal hell, Jesus has dealt with in His death. You are a child of Light, a child of the Day, a child of God. Jesus’ death and life are yours. His body and blood are yours. His words of life ring in your ears. He is your mighty fortress, your shield, your strength against the terrible forces of darkness and death.

Return to your home, your life, your vocation, your family and friends and neighbors, and declare how much God has done for you. He has called you out of darkness to live in His marvelous light. He has forgiven you, raised you, clothed you, freed you, glorified you. You are baptized, freed from the Law, sons of God, heirs of eternal life, clothed with Christ. You have His Spirit to ward off all the unclean spirits, the Spirit that cries out “Abba! Father!” from the depths of your heart to the very heart of God. You are no longer a slave but a son, an heir. You are free. So much to tell. So much to receive.

In the name of Jesus,

Amen

Baptized, Believing, Belonging: The Trinitarian Gift - Acts 2: 36-28

What must I do to be saved? This is the question that continues to plague the hearts and minds of men. Desperate people, seeking desperate answers, hunt anywhere, everywhere, trying to find someone or something that provides a seemingly reasonable answer.

If you did a man on the street interview in Victoria, or Goliad, or Cuero, what might people say? How might they answer that question?

You must always strive to do your best, one says, so that in the end the ledger leans in your favor of the good things outweighing the bad. Another warns that if you are having bad things happening to you, it may be the result of your parents or even grandparents moral failures – and there is no guarantee this might not get passed on to your own children!

You would probably find a good dose of moral relativism, to live a good life, to make wrongs right, and maybe even the well-intended but impossible suggestion of “Do what Jesus would do.” Unless you ran across a Muslim who would instead cite their prophet, Mohammad, from the Quran. And, it’s possible you could find a nihilist or an agnostic or an atheist who would say there is nothing to be saved from – when you die, they say, that’s it – turn out the lights, the party’s over.

But the men in Jerusalem weren’t asking just anyone. They were asking Peter – the formerly empty glass who had been made to sing by the power of the Holy Spirit, sent by Jesus, who was Himself sent by the Father. And, with their hearts broken and cut to the quick with Peter’s clear preaching, realizing they could do nothing to save themselves, they were seeking an answer: what must we do to be saved? The solution was simple and clear: repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins.

Repentance is not a popular message in America because it flies in the face of everything that is our proud American ideology – or, perhaps I should call it idol-olatry. Our culture teaches us to be brash and bold, even if that means running over the weaker. Our society teaches us it’s OK to lie about and defame our neighbor, as long as we get something out of it. Our world worships self-happiness, demands individual rights, and refuses to bow down to the wants or needs of anyone else. Our age teaches that the only almighty trinity is me, myself and I. And Peter stands in the face of this and calls each of us to repent.

Repentance is humbling. Repentance recognizes that we have done something wrong towards or against another and labels it as it is: sin. Repentance is truthful. Repentance acknowledges that we are sinners and confesses our sins against God and against neighbor. Repentance is submissive. Repentance admits we can’t save ourselves and we desperately need help. Repentance is surrender. The Holy Spirit has worked through the Law in the hearer’s heart and mind and the repentant stands convicted concerning sin and righteousness and judgement (John 16:8). Repentance hurts and it saddens and, to one degree or another, it terrifies the conscience because they recognize what the sinful status deserves.

If that’s all repentance is, leaving the sinner with their own sorrow and despair, he or she is no better off than the man on the street we interviewed earlier.

But Christian repentance is different than what every other religion offers. Christian repentance finds it’s answer, it’s antidote, it’s resolution in Jesus. Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins. Repentance without Jesus is only sorrow coupled with despair: what must I do to be saved? But Christian repentance finds the answer to that very question in the cross of Jesus, the place of atonement, where Jesus’ blood was shed for sinners like you and me and the Pentecost crowd and all who cry out with the hopelessness and helplessness of this age and who, in faith, turn to Jesus. Confessing our sins, repenting of our sins, and like the Jerusalem crowd, desiring a change in our hearts and minds and lives, turn to Jesus. He hears; He forgives because His blood was shed for you. His life was taken for you. His holiness was traded for you. His perfection surrendered for your imperfection.

Baptism without Jesus is just washing – literally. To baptize means to wash, but being washed with the Word, that is baptized in the name of Jesus, is to have sins washed away, to be united to Christ through water and word, enlivened by the Holy Spirit, restored and connected to the Father as sons and daughters of God. In Baptism, the Father declares our debt of sin paid in full and He bestows on us His Spirit, enabling us with hearts to believe and with mouths to confess the saving name of Jesus. And with newly baptized hearts, and with ever-repentant hearts, the Holy Trinity changes us so that we no longer want to live as children of the world but as children of God. The Trinity at work in an extraordinary way.

Today we celebrate the Holy Trinity: God in three persons. In a few moments we will confess the Athanasian Creed. It is long and it is monotonous in it’s precise language. In the fifth phrase, we’ll confess that the Father is infinite, the Son infinite, and the Holy Spirit is infinite. In the old, Jacobean language, the phrase was “incomprehensible” – the Father incomprehensible, the Son incomprehensible, the Holy Spirit incomprehensible. I remember a friend of mine mumbling under his breath, “The whole thing is incomprehensible.” Why can’t we just stick with the Apostle’s Creed – that’s so much shorter and simpler. True, but this is important because the Church has continued to use these very words to defend the Christian faith against false teachings for a thousand years.  

I admit – I do not fully and completely understand the Trinity. But, here’s the beauty of it: while we may never fully and completely understand it, you don’t have to understand it to believe it. I don’t understand nuclear fission – but I feel the sun’s warmth. I don’t understand where wind starts – but I feel it’s breeze. I don’t understand how airplanes fly, but I get in one to travel. I don’t need to completely understand the mystery of the Triune Godhead – but, since this is how God reveals Himself to us, as Father and Son and Holy Spirit, and He tells us so clearly, I believe it.

In fact, every celebration of holy baptism and holy communion is a trinitarian celebration, just as every gathering, “in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” is done in union with the Sacred three. In the power of the Holy Spirit, the Church gathers on Sunday—the day of the Resurrection—to offer thanksgiving to the Father for Christ’s saving-life given to us at the table of the Word and the table of the Eucharist. Listen carefully to the opening greeting, the baptismal “formula,” the Athanasian Creed traditionally confessed on this Sunday, the Eucharistic prayer, and the final blessing. We are accompanied in life’s journey by a community of persons, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, who together are the one and only living God. And so, we are not alone. Indeed, the Church is intended to be a sign to the world of the Holy Trinity’s unity-in-diversity.

So, back to the question: What must I do to be saved? Nothing. Salvation is the work of the Triune God: The Father sent the Son who delivers the Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit enables us to believe Jesus is our Savior, and through Jesus we see the Father’s love.

What the Holy Spirit Does with an Empty Glass - Acts 2:1-11

 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

This morning’s Epistle lesson (Acts 2:1-21) is Peter’s first full sermon as an apostle. Today we only get to hear the first part of the sermon, but it’s the part we love. We love it because Peter preaches Law and Gospel and people repent and are saved. The perfect Lutheran sermon! The Law is clear and sharp: you killed Jesus. The Gospel is unexpected and amazing: But God raised Him up, whom you crucified, to be God and Lord. And the result is life – people repent and are saved.

Now, this is Pentecost Sunday. There is a great temptation to take this text and turn it into an evangelism sermon, to explain three simple steps on how to present the Law, how to pursue with questions, and then how to apply the Gospel. It’s the standard Pentecost sermon formula.

But I don’t want to talk to you as an evangelist today. I want to speak to you as a child – a child of God.

When I was in high school band, our band director chose a new piece of music that used crystal glasses filled with different levels of water for musical instruments. Glasses of all shapes and sizes were spread over a table. My good friend, Chris, was going to be the one who played the glasses. So, there I was, on the concert stage, in the trumpet section, but I was nervous for my friend because there, at the corner of the table, was a glass that looked like it was out of reach. And, it looked like it was empty. Did Chris forget to fill it? Could he reach it? Could he make that glass sing? 

We came to that part in the piece. I watched him as Christ dipped his finger in water and it let forth the highest and most beautiful note in the song. I looked out into the audience and I saw the face of a child sitting in the front row, filled with amazement and wonder, at how a seemingly empty glass could sing.

Now, I want you to listen to this text like a child with wonder, lost at what God does with empty glasses.

I want you to look at this text differently. Listen again to verse 14: “Now Peter stood up among the eleven and lifted up his voice and addressed them…”

Peter preaches. That’s the wonder. That’s what I want you to see today.

Now, I admit it’s not that wonderful that Peter preaches. He’s the one never at a loss for words. Think back to the three years he was with Jesus. On the Mount of Transfiguration, “I will build three tabernacles for you, and Moses, and Elijah!” On the ocean, “Tell me to come out to you and I will!”  

It seems Peter is never at a loss for words. Not even the night Jesus was betrayed. Not even then. “Though they all fall away Lord, not me…I will follow you to prison and to death.” But that night Peter lost Jesus. There, in the garden and in the courtyard, he was asked three times if he knew Jesus; three times he said “No,” the last time even adding in curses to make the denial more emphatic. He used his words to empty himself of every last drop of Jesus.

He was a shell of a disciple; an empty glass if I ever saw one.

And that is what makes this moment so wonderful.

You see, it’s not about the glass. It’s not about how full or empty you are. It’s all about the One who can touch a glass and make it sing.

That’s what we see here. That’s what Jesus is doing. He has been raised from the dead and ascended into heaven. Now He sends forth His Spirit and now He touches on all sorts of glasses. He touches Old Testament, Psalms and the Prophets. And He makes them sing in ways we never knew. And He touches fishermen to open their mouths to speak in ways they never dreamed possible. And He opens ears to hear an old, old song in an old language. People are confused – what is God doing? And then they see Peter, an empty glass, and Jesus touches it and makes it sing.

God, by grace, can make any empty vessel sing.

Here it is, Pentecost, and I’m not letting you hear Pentecost. Am I frustrating you? It’s kinda like I’m keeping you outside the chancel doors, out in the narthex, and I’m making you watch this through the windows of the doors and cry room. But I’m doing this on purpose because I want you to see something. I want you to see a whole ‘nother sermon. The very fact that Peter preaches is a sermon on its own.

Anyone who dares to speak for Christ, to be His voice, needs to listen to this sermon.

When you stand up as a god-parent for a child and you confess on behalf of the child…

When the youth group is silent in Sunday school and you dare to open your mouth…

You visit a friend in the hospital and you offer a prayer before surgery…

You call up a friend five weeks after they lost their spouse, just to say hi and see how they’re doing…

Listen to this sermon, because God has a word for you.

One of the greatest fears in our society is public speaking. It ranks right up there with heights and clowns. I’ve watched people make evangelism calls, I’ve listened to people have conversations about Jesus, I’ve attended conferences and led workshops on how to do all of this, and you know what I think? I think, as a rule, people, well-meaning, well-grounded, well-faithed Christians are, deep-down, afraid to speak for Jesus. I understand why – trust me. To dare to say to other Christians, “Thus saith the Lord,” is daunting. And, I think our fear stems in this: we know what empty vessels we are.

How can you speak a word of hope or comfort to your neighbor who just lost his job when you are afraid for yourself and glad it wasn’t you laid off?

How do you speak with empathy when your brother calls and says that he and his wife are separating because they just don’t love each other anymore while you are getting ready to celebrate your own anniversary?  

You visit with a friend when suddenly, your friend begins to sob, telling you how their world is falling apart and asking what to do. What they don’t know is that your own world seems to be crumbling around you. How do you help another when you need help yourself?

How do you do this when you’re an empty glass?

Let someone else preach the Gospel for you. You’re not alone. God has not left you alone. In baptism, God joined you to a people and He has surrounded you with a cloud of witnesses – people who speak of Jesus for you. When you can’t speak for Jesus, let someone else speak of Jesus for you.

Those Bible verses you memorized in confirmation class? Let those verses speak. Maybe a hymn verse you sang on Sunday - use that. Take a story from your Sunday school class. Take something you read in Lutheran Witness or the LWML Quarterly, take the Bible verse from the morning’s devotion and let the Holy Spirit use that word from your mouth. Let someone else preach through you. The message isn’t yours; it’s God’s and He’s given it to us to share with others.

What you discover is that Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit, can make any empty vessel sing.

And, if it’s you who are feeling empty, when life has drained you of everything, then come to this place. If you need to, come here and stand in the narthex or sit over in the annex meeting room and just listen. Listen to what God has done – He has taken this Jesus whom we crucified, God has taken this Jesus and make Him Lord and Christ over all.

This Jesus now rules over the world and he causes people to sing again and again – poets and prophets, doctors and lawyers, mechanics and farmers, engineers and attorneys, teachers and preachers, and newly confirmed youth – He causes them to sing the Gospel for you and for others.

And, like that like a child, you are lost in wonder.

And suddenly, you hear your voice begin to sing in endless praise.

Amen.

What's Up with the Ascension? - Acts 1:1-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is for the Ascension of our Lord, Acts 1:1-11.

This past Thursday was one of the lesser-known festivals of the Church year. It was the Ascension of the Lord. It snuck by like a thief in the night and most of you didn’t know it. Please don’t feel bad. Most Christians probably missed it. I didn’t make a big deal out of it, either, and let you know. The last Ascension service I went to I was in grade school. There were no more than a few dozen people in attendance. Even at Seminary, Ascension services are slim.  Ascension is easy to overlook.

I submit we don’t just overlook it in the church year; we even plough right by it every week when we confess the Creeds of the Church, “He ascended into heaven.” We don’t just overlook it; we zoom right by it. Those four words are barely a speedbump to slow us down as we race through the words. Born of the Virgin Mary? That’s Christmas – lots of focus there. …The third day, He rose from the dead. That’s Easter – BIG focus there. But Ascension gets passed over. That makes me wonder: do we stop and consider what that means, why Jesus had to ascend, and what He’s doing while we wait for His return?

Ascension takes place forty days after Easter. During those forty days, “He presented Himself alive to them after His suffering by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the Kingdom of God.” That wonderful number 40: a number of perfection and fulfillment. Jesus’ living, breathing body and nail-marked hands, feet and side stand as evidentiary proof that He is the one who died, but more than that, was raised. No ghost, Jesus is a living, breathing body again – raised, resurrected, in glory. He has accomplished the Father’s will, submitting fully and perfectly to the Law; living, being tempted, suffering and dying as a man. He, who had set aside the full use of His divine power and glory, is about to take it back up again. It is time for Him to return to His position of glory at the right hand of God in heaven. He, who came in human flesh born of the Virgin Mary, will return to the Father in His human nature.

As an aside, we usually think of heaven as “up.” Heaven isn’t a locatedness; it’s not a spot on a map. It’s a boundary-less, limitless, eternal place where God dwells. In our American mindset, I think we have delegated, or perhaps denigrated, “going to heaven” to a glorified “going on vacation.” It’s a place where we’re going to go, one day. And when we get there, we’ll have our private room where we can see Jesus out the window. While there is nothing wrong with speaking about heaven, I wonder if we might be better served by thinking of it as “being in the presence of God.” My rationale is to take it out of the realm of something I get to do (where I am the actor) and instead leave it in the realm of something I will receive.

Likewise, the right hand of God is not a place (physically standing right beside the Father) but a position of power. We speak of our right-hand-man. This is someone who speaks with the master’s authority and acts on the master’s behalf. Jesus is the voice of God, the Word of God to us. But the one at the right hand also has great, unlimited access to the master.

So, with Jesus’ saving work done, with perfect and unlimited access to the Father, He prays for you, interceding to the Father on your behalf. Just as, while on earth, He prayed for those around Him – there was an excellent example of this High Priestly prayer in this morning’s Gospel lesson, John 17; perhaps re-read this this afternoon – He continues to pray for you even having ascended into heaven.  He prays in His human nature, knowing full well all of the aches and pains, the hurts and sorrows, the joys and excitements, the wonders and amazements, the empathy and the fear you experience. He takes each of your prayers, prayed through faith in Him, and He echoes them perfectly into the Father’s ears for you.

It doesn’t matter if you are the only person praying or if you have a thousand Facebook friends praying with you; it doesn’t matter if it is something that others might consider silly or if it moves the hardest of hearts; it doesn’t matter if it is a prayer that you have prayed every day for thirty years or if you don’t even know how to pray, Jesus – the perfect High Priest – prays for you. If the words aren’t perfect, or the motive isn’t as pure as you wish; if the prayer is as simple as “Lord, have mercy,” or even rumbles out as a groan, He makes it perfect, purifying the words and thoughts with His innocently shed blood and fleshing out your words with His own Amen.

It’s not that He couldn’t do these things on earth. It’s that He needed to ascend to fulfill the Scriptures. He had promised He would do so after His death and resurrection. Everything else He had done in his life and ministry had been done for the Father’s glory, to fulfill what had been promised. He was not about to stop now. Besides – think of the chaos that had taken place during His earthly ministry. There were days where He was exhausted from the teaching, healing, and demands of the people. When He fed the 5000, they wanted to take Him by force to make Him king. When He angered the Jewish leaders, they tried many times to (literally) corner Him and catch Him. If He were still physically on earth, imagine what it would be like - the chaos would be ridiculous. Jesus is here! No, He’s here! No – He’s here! By His ascension, He’s able to be everywhere, at all places, at all times. How is this possible, we demand to know! Again – the Father’s presence has no location, remember?

Plus, His ascension demands and commands faith. Faith, the book of Hebrews tells us, is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Because of His ascension, we do not see Jesus – at least, not as His disciples did, or as we see each other. We see Jesus with eyes of faith. With eyes of faith, we see Jesus where He has promised to be: in the very pages of Holy Scripture. When you open the Bible, Old Testament, New Testament, the Torah or the Prophets, the Epistles or the Gospels, everywhere you look, there is Jesus. Every word inspired by the Holy Spirit and written “so that you may believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His name.”

In faith, we do not need to see a flesh-and-bones body. We, through the words of Matthew and Luke, in faith, see Jesus ascend with His hands held high. Those hands that gave sight to the blind and hearing to the mute; the hands that touched the sin-stained hands of others; the infant hands that held tightly to His mother and the man’s hands that were nailed to the cross – He raised those hands in blessing, not just for the 12 on the mountaintop, but for all of the children of God of all ages.

Those hands were raised in blessing for you.

He blesses you as you watch and wait for His return. We say that in the Creeds, too, remember? He ascends and will one day descend and return again. Once He came hidden in humility via Virgin Birth; when He returns it will be in glory and every eye shall see and every ear will hear. The ascension marked the beginning of the end.  The ascension leaves us leaning forward in our pews, looking forward to that day, ready for when that trumpet will sound. For two thousand years, the Church has looked up to the ascension with anticipation, not apprehension, for the day of Jesus’ return when all of the promises of God, from the first day until the last, will be fulfilled in the resurrection of all flesh. Everything we spoke of the last two weeks, reading from Revelation 21, all of those things will come to fruition when Jesus returns.

We’re not there yet. But we are still Easter people. We are Ascension people. We are God’s people, children of God by grace through faith in Jesus, who has ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty and who waits to come, with glory, to raise you into eternity with Him.

Blessed Ascension.
Amen.