Wednesday night, when I sat to write my blog for yesterday, it completely slipped my mind that I was writing for Ascension Day.
Now, there are moments in ministry when one hopes to be particularly liturgically aware, theologically grounded, and spiritually attentive.
And then there are moments like this.
So, with a mixture of gratitude and mild embarrassment, I would like to write the post for Ascension Day now.
Better late than never—which, incidentally, is also a fairly accurate description of how most of the disciples seemed to arrive at understanding what Jesus was doing.
The Ascension is one of those feasts that can feel a little… elusive.
Easter has energy.
Pentecost has fire.
But Ascension?
Jesus rises.
A cloud appears.
And suddenly the disciples are standing there, looking up.
Which, to be fair, is a perfectly reasonable response.
If someone you love is taken up into heaven before your eyes, you are unlikely to glance casually at your watch and say, “Well then, shall we be off?”
You would look up.
You would wonder.
You would linger in the moment.
And that is precisely what they do.
Until, of course, two angels appear — because in Scripture, when people linger too long, angels tend to arrive with gentle but unmistakable clarity.
“Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
Which is, I think, one of the most beautifully practical questions in all of Scripture.
Why are you still standing here?
Because the story is not ending.
It is beginning.
The Ascension is not Jesus leaving the world behind.
It is Jesus entrusting the world to his people.
“You will be my witnesses… to the ends of the earth.”
Not “remain here and reflect thoughtfully.”
Not “stay in this moment as long as possible.”
But go.
Which, if we are honest, is not always our instinct.
We quite like the looking up part.
The awe.
The wonder.
The sense of something holy happening just beyond our reach.
What we are less certain about is the next step.
The going.
The witnessing.
The living of resurrection life in the very ordinary, very immediate places where we actually are.
But Ascension Day insists on this truth:
That the risen Christ has not disappeared.
He has gone ahead.
And in going ahead, he has opened the way for us to follow — not by staring upward, but by stepping outward.
Into our communities.
Into our conversations.
Into the small, daily opportunities to live and speak the grace we have received.
Which means that the Church is not a people who remain gathered around a memory.
We are a people sent into the world.
Sent with joy.
Sent with hope.
Sent with the quiet, steady confidence that Christ reigns — not at a distance, but in a way that fills all things.
So yes — there is a moment for looking up.
For wonder.
For awe.
For standing still and recognizing that something holy has happened.
But then…
There is the going.
And perhaps that is where Ascension finally meets us.
Not in the sky, but in the step we take next.
Christ is ascended.
And we are sent.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Ascended Lord,
You reign in glory
and send us into the world.
Lift our hearts to you in wonder,
and then guide our feet in faithful living.
Give us courage to go where you lead,
wisdom to speak your truth,
and love to serve in your name.
And as we are sent,
remind us that you are with us always—
reigning, guiding, and calling us onward.
Amen.