Christchurch Parish News, May 2018
The importance of the Ascension when proclaiming Jesus is Lord.
I remember the moment quite clearly. I’d been worshipping at the Priory for a few years when one Sunday morning, looking up into the Great Quire, my gaze was drawn to the mural at the top and I was struck by the simple thought that the mural hadn’t always been there.
In fact, it’s only existed since 1967—that’s just 51 years. What a bold decision it was on the part of Canon Yorke and the PCC to commission the work by German artist, Hans Feibusch. But most of all, what an inspired choice of subject matter: the ascension of Jesus Christ.
If you think about it for a moment, it’s not the most obvious moment in the story of Jesus to have chosen (though its position high up in the Great Quire lends itself well to the theme). For almost all of us, even though the ascension is referred to at various points in our Sunday services—for example, when we say the Nicene Creed: ‘On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father’— the ascension remains a more marginal event when it comes to our understanding of the good news of Jesus Christ. There are several reasons for this.
To begin with, Ascension Day is always celebrated 40 days after Easter, which means it falls during the week. That doesn’t make it the most convenient service to get to, especially as it’s not a public holiday. Not managing to celebrate one of the key events in the life of Jesus year in, year out has the effect of pushing it to the margins of our theological imaginations. Think what would happen if we only got to celebrate Christmas or Easter once every few years. Slowly but surely, they would cease to hold as much significance for us.
Then, there’s the fact that the story of Jesus’ ascension is only told at the end of Luke and again a second time at the beginning of Acts (it does appear in one of the extended endings of the gospel according to Mark, but that doesn’t feature in the Sunday lectionary, so it’s not so relevant for most of us). This means that we don’t come across this part of the story very often. For the rest of the New Testament, post-Jesus’ resurrection, the ascension is more implicit in the narrative than explicit.
When we do read it, the way Luke recounts the story may well leave us asking a few awkward questions. For starters, what’s all this about ‘a cloud’ taking Jesus out of the disciples’ sight? Seriously? Is that how Jesus’ earthly ministry comes to an end, with him vanishing into a cloud? It stretches the imagination a little and for many of us, this part of the story ends up being put in that box labeled ‘things in the Bible that are very hard to believe’.
But that’s unfortunate because when we remember that the cloud is an image that the writers of the Bible use to depict the presence and glory of God, it all begins to make a bit more sense. There are many examples of a cloud being used in this way in the Old Testament: for example, when the Israelites were making their way out of Egypt through the wilderness, ‘the LORD went in front of them in a pillar of cloud’ (Ex 13:22); and when Moses went up Mount Sinai, the LORD said to him, ‘I am going to come to you in a dense cloud’ (Ex 19:9). In the New Testament, the most well-known instance is the Transfiguration, when Jesus, Peter and John went up a high mountain where ‘a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”’ (Matt 17:5).
So when Luke writes, ‘as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight’, it is simply a Biblical way of speaking of Jesus entering the presence of God. This helps when it comes to working out what is meant next, when the two men in white robes, who suddenly appear beside the disciples, say, ‘This Jesus … has been taken from you into heaven’.
If we understand cloud as a pictorial way of depicting the presence of God, then we’re on the right track for understanding what Luke means when he writes of Jesus ascending into heaven: the risen Jesus, in all his resurrection physicality, enters into the presence of God, into that dimension of creation—heaven—where God’s loving will is done without impediment or diminishment.
Most likely, the notion of a living human being (albeit a resurrected one) entering heaven totally messes with our understanding of what we mean by heaven. But the Bible speaks of Jesus, a fully alive human being, entering into heaven as the anticipation of the long-term destiny of all creation, when it will all be united, both heaven and earth. As Paul writes in Ephesians, ‘With all wisdom and insight [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things in earth’ (Eph 1: 8-10).
Today, Jesus is in that dimension of creation, heaven, where he exercises the sovereignty that he has been granted by God the Father over everything, both heaven and earth, without constraint of time and place (this is what’s meant when the Bible speaks of Jesus sitting at the right hand of God the Father). And it is from where he now intercedes for us as our advocate and mediator with God the Father. Much of this is the focus of the letter to the Hebrews, also in the New Testament.
These astounding, multi-dimensional cosmic claims are all premised on Jesus’ physical ascension. Take away his transition from our dimension to God’s from the story and we drastically diminish the significance of the claim that Jesus is Lord. For when the disciples said that Jesus is Lord, and when we say the same, the two key questions are a) what kind of Lord is Jesus and b) what is he Lord of? We know from Jesus’ teachings and his crucifixion and resurrection, that he is Lord in a very topsy-turvy way—he’s not like the Caesars of then and now. But the second question is just as important: what is Jesus Lord of? This is where the ascension becomes crucial, for the claim that the Bible makes for Jesus is that he is Lord of everything that’s been created, including heaven.
If looking at things in this way feels odd, think about the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples, what we commonly call the Lord’s prayer. The first phrase is ‘Our Father who art in heaven’. With this, Jesus is stating that God is in heaven, or put differently, that heaven is that dimension where God the Father is. Then the prayer goes on: ‘Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven’. Heaven is that dimension of reality where God’s will is done. We want earth to be the same kind of place. With this in mind, you can see how our daily prayer takes for granted these underpinning realities—both earth and heaven—over which Jesus is now declared to be Lord.
Proclaiming that Jesus is Lord, yesterday, today and tomorrow, is the calling of the church. We are the people chosen by God to tell this wonderful story that’s full of such hope for all of creation. Whilst we doubtless struggle to understand so much of what it all means, we are not left to proclaim it without help. God the Father not only sent the Holy Spirit on the early disciples as Jesus had promised would happen, He continues to send it on us, too. Hence, every Sunday, during the Eucharist, the priest prays to God the Father to ‘send the Holy Spirit on your people’. That means us!
Empowered and emboldened by the Spirit, Christians have proclaimed for 2000 years all around the world—and for nearly half that time here at the Priory—that the risen and ascended Jesus Christ is Lord. In this generation and in our place, it’s our turn to do just the same.
Having celebrated Christ’s ascension, may God once again send his Holy Spirit at Pentecost, so that we, too, may faithfully proclaim that Jesus is Lord, here and now, on earth and in heaven.
(For more on thinking about heaven and earth in this way, I recommend reading Surprised by Hope by Tom Wright.)