Ascension Day 2022

 

This week saw the first showing of the final episode of This Is Us, an American drama that, for six seasons, has told the story of one family, the Pearsons. It is a stunning exploration of trauma, and the possibility of healing, and the finest television storytelling I have had the pleasure to know. And in the wake of its passing, I shall know bereavement, for I am the better for having witnessed the alienation and restoration of these relationships. Yes, they may be fictional characters, but all humanity is held here.

On Ascension Day, we hear again the story of Jesus’ return to the one he called Father, in heaven. In fact, we hear the story told and retold, told twice, by the same storyteller, Luke. This story, so important that it demands to be heard again, is the bridge between Luke’s first and second volumes, the Gospel According to Luke and the Acts of the Apostles. This story is the bridge between Jesus’ excruciating torture and dying, and death-confounding resurrection, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. This story is the bridge between the revealed committed desire of God to be in relationship with human beings expressed through the promises to Abraham and Moses and David—the people from among whom God enters into our lives in the person of Jesus—and the revealed committed desire of God to be in relationship with all humanity expressed through the commissioning of the disciples as witnesses to the ends of the earth by Jesus—a people called out from every tribe and nation to know God and to follow where Jesus has shown the way, to be with the Father, in full and unbroken union, for ever.

This is the moment that holds within itself all moments, past, present, and future. Eternity as a fixed point in time and space. In Jesus, fully God and fully human, lifting-up his hands in blessing and being lifted up.

And two witnesses, whom we have not met before now and do not meet again hereafter, testify, ‘This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.’

It will become clear that the disciples, and those who received their testimony, fully expected this Jesus to return within their lifetime, at least within the lifetime of the last remaining original witness. And, equally clearly, this was not to be. Which calls into question the testimony of the two men in white robes, and, indeed, of all who believed them. It is not for you, Jesus tells his disciples, to know the timescale on which the things you long to see restored will be restored; rather, it is yours to bear witness that God is, indeed, restoring all things through and in and with Jesus, and to invite everyone to enter-in through repentance and forgiveness. Repentance, our coming back to being with God, with our neighbour, with our undivided self, our heart and mind and soul and strength held together by love. And forgiveness, God—fully, now—and our neighbour and our self—ultimately—agreeing, yes! Yes, to the restoration of God’s desire to be with us, and us with God. But does it have to take so long?

Samuel Wells, vicar of St Martin-in-the-fields in central London, suggests that the answer to that question is that whatever will be gained then does not outweigh what would be lost: the joy of seeing new life birthed as men, women and children come to faith all over the world; the world-confounding peace of the Holy Spirit with us in our sorrow. Not to mention centuries of art, music, architecture, literature, advances in science. Not to mention the love and wonder known in countless human lives.

That thesis would bear out in the life of the local church here in Sunderland, where we have been blessed to have with us sisters and brothers from Iran, Afghanistan, from many corners of the world, most recently from Ukraine. We enter God’s restoration, while waiting for restoration that is yet unseen.

We trust that Jesus will return, will come again, in person, to be with us, to dwell with us. Until he comes, we look back and look forward, in the present moment that holds all moments. We worship in the holy place, and we go out to witness that every heart may be drawn home, to worship and to witness, to find our lives centred on Jesus, and, with him, with God. Never, again, alone, whether in persecution or vindication, suffering or rejoicing. Finding our place in a restoration far greater than anything we could imagine.

That is a story worth listening to twice over. More, this is a story that heals the heart. We Have not yet reached the final episode of the Last Chapter yet, but, for now and always, this is us.