Preached on Thursday, May 29, 2025, Ascension Day, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock.

From the book of Acts: “As the apostles were watching, Jesus was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.”

Ascension Day is a bit of a whacky thing, isn’t it? This is the day when we remember and celebrate what the Nicene Creed has us say all these years later: “Jesus Christ ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” Indeed, whacky. For many of us modern Christians, it’s even something of an embarrassment. But tonight, let’s ask ourselves the question: why does it embarrass us? What’s so strange about the Ascension of our Lord?

Well, for one, the Ascension embarasses us because it goes against everything we think we understand about the world. People stay on the ground; they don’t go flying off (at least, not any people I know). And even if one were to fly off, they wouldn’t go into heaven, but through the atmosphere and off into outer space. And even if we were to stretch the scientific possibilities to the fullest for an explanation––extra dimensions or multiverses, for example––it just doesn’t add up. The Ascension goes against everything we think we understand about the world.

But really, modern physics and cosmology aside, I think that our embarrassment about our Lord’s Ascension goes even deeper than all that. The Ascension embarasses us because it goes against everything we think we understand about God Himself.

For example: why would God want to leave us? That’s what happens in the Ascension: Jesus Christ goes on ahead of us. Would not our risen Lord want to stay with us forever here on earth? Would He not be more helpful to us here on earth? Why would He go away? It goes against everything we think we understand about God.

Here’s a second example: why would God want to take our human nature to heaven? That’s what happens in the Ascension: Jesus Christ, in His divinity and His humanity, goes up into heaven, taking with Him the fullness of human nature. But we so often discredit human nature, these bodies of ours. Often, we’re ashamed of our bodies. Why would God want to take this human nature to Himself, not leaving it behind? Does God really care about human flesh that much? It goes against everything we think we understand about God.

And here’s a third example: how is it that Christ now reigns at God’s right hand in heaven? That’s what happens in the Ascension: Jesus Christ has been seated in heavenly places at God’s right hand. But just look at the world around us. “Surely, Christ is not on any throne,” we tell ourselves. How could God have authority? How could God have all power and dominion? How could Christ be King and the world goes its own way? It goes against everything we think we understand about God.

For all these reasons, and probably many more, this feast day leaves us a bit embarrassed.

Now, it’s quite easy for us to think that this embarrassment is ours alone, that it’s a modern embarrassment. It’s easy for us to think that the early Christian writers, including the writer of Luke-Acts, didn’t know any better. It’s easy for us to think that they weren’t phased by this sort of thing: people going up into heaven. But let me remind you: the early Christians would have been just as dumbfounded by this story as we are today! People stayed on the ground, not blasting off like rockets. The God Who is “God-with-us” surely wouldn’t want to depart from us. The God Who is high and lofty surely wouldn’t want to take human nature up into heaven. The God Who sees this broken and fragile world surely isn’t reigning with all sovereignty and might. No matter the time or place we read this story, it doesn’t really make any sense.

But maybe, that’s just the point. Maybe what we remember and celebrate tonight is God’s great upheaval of everything we think we understand.

After all, we prefer to keep things as we understand them. We keep things safe and on the ground, right where they are, nice and controlled. That’s the force of the apostles’ question to Jesus: “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He dismisses their question, because the apostles are asking a question grounded by and limited to their own expectations and understanding.

But that’s not what the Ascension is about––not by a good measure. The Ascension says to heck with all of that. We are not in control. God is. God upends every expectation and understanding that we have. God doesn’t stay confined to the soil of earth, but is lifted up into heaven––into the clouds, out of our sight, far beyond anything we can imagine.

And cosmology and physics are just the beginning. God upends our understanding of God Himself.

By His Ascension, Jesus Christ departs from us, and we should not be embarrassed by it, because it is by this that we now truly understand God: now, God shares with us the mission of Christ. Now, in Christ’s absence, we carry out His work in the world as His body, the Church.

By His Ascension, Jesus Christ takes His humanity into heaven, and we should not be embarrassed by it, because it is by this that we now truly understand God: God desires to be with us in our earthly bodies––in fact, especially in our earthly bodies. Even if we might hesitate at such a thought, God has no such hesitation. Even more, God takes the initiative and draws us to Himself and will keep us with Him forever.

By His Ascension, Jesus Christ has taken His seat upon His throne in heaven, and we should not be embarrassed by it, because it is by this that we now truly understand God: even as we see so much sin and suffering in the world, Christ reigns over all things, and all things have been made subject to Him. This world has as its ultimate end the glorious and unrelenting reign of Christ, and of His kingdom there shall be no end.

So, if we find ourselves slightly embarrassed by the fact of the Ascension, good. We’re in good company, both with one another and with Christians of ages past. And just as He has done with all those Christians before us, God takes our embarrassment and upends it with the staggeringly good news of Jesus Christ. And that is why we gather here tonight: to celebrate God’s great upheaval of everything we think we understand, accompanied by orchestra, and Mozart, and the bread and wine of this Holy Communion. For my friends, God has gone up, indeed. And as Luke’s Gospel puts it, may we, like His apostles, “worship Him with great joy, and continually bless Him here in His temple.” Amen.