"Lifted to Live: The Ascension and the Courage to Carry On"
Text: Acts 16:16 34 | Psalm 97 | Revelation 22:12-14, 16–17, 20–21 | John 17:20-26
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Ascended Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Today we celebrate Ascension Sunday, a moment that hangs in the Christian calendar like a bridge suspended between two worlds—between Easter's empty tomb and Pentecost's rushing wind.
But Ascension is not just a theological intermission. It is, in many ways, the fulcrum of our faith, the great cosmic pivot where Jesus is not just risen, but enthroned. Where He is not just our Savior, but now our reigning King.
And in this moment, between resurrection joy and Pentecostal fire, we are called to live. We stand with the disciples, gazing up into the heavens, wondering: “What now?”
Now we go. Now we witness. Now we carry the presence of the ascended Christ into a broken world.
Let’s go deeper into the historical and cultural world of the Ascension. In the ancient world, when a king returned victorious from war, he would ascend the throne before the people. Ascension was a political, symbolic act—it declared to all: “This one reigns.”
In the Greco-Roman imagination, to be “taken up into the heavens” was a sign of divine approval or deification. Roman emperors claimed this for themselves—Augustus and others had coins minted with “DIVI FILIUS” (son of god).
Now imagine the subversive boldness of the Christian claim: It is not Caesar, but Jesus—the—crucified carpenter from Nazareth—who has truly ascended. This was not a metaphor.
It is no accident that early Christian creeds emphasize the Ascension. It was proof that death had not only been defeated but dethroned.
And it taught early Christians a vital truth: though Jesus is no longer physically present, He is universally sovereign through the Holy Spirit.
Acts 16:16-34 – Faith That Sings in Chains -Here we meet Paul and Silas, imprisoned in Philippi. Not for doing wrong, but for doing good, casting out a spirit of exploitation. And what is their response? “About midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God.”
This isn’t spiritual escapism. This is defiance in the face of despair. It’s a testimony: “You can chain our bodies, but not our hope.”
And what happens? An earthquake. Prison doors fly open. The jailer is about to take his own life, because in Roman law, a jailer was responsible for the life of his prisoners.
But Paul calls out: “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.”
What kind of people stay when the doors open? People whose mission matters more than their comfort. People who have been lifted by grace and now live to lift others.
And the jailer—moved not just by the miracle, but by their mercy—asks the most urgent question in the Bible: “What must I do to be saved?” That is the question our lives must provoke.
The Ascension calls us to live lives that provoke holy questions. Do our actions cause others to say, “Why are you still kind?” “Why do you still have joy?” “Why didn’t you run from the hard places?”
We don’t worship a Christ who ran. We worship a Christ who ascended through suffering, who calls us not to escape the world, but to invade it with love.
Psalm 97 – The Unsettling Reign of God “The Lord reigns; let the earth rejoice!” But then comes fire, lightning, clouds, trembling mountains. God’s reign is not always gentle. It is just. It is holy. It disturbs before it delights. The Ascension is not cozy. It means Jesus is not just our friend—He is our King. And the king's command. Are we willing to let the reign of Christ disturb our comfort?
It is easy to sing “Jesus is Lord” when it costs nothing. But to proclaim Christ’s Lordship in an age of individualism, consumerism, and moral relativism? That’s radical. To say, “My money is not mine. My body is not mine. My opinions are not ultimate. Christ is Lord.” That is Ascension living.
Revelation 22:12 14, 16–17, 20–21 – Living on the Edge of Eternity Revelation gives us the Ascended Christ's final word: “Behold, I am coming soon.”
For the early Christians living under persecution, these words were not a threat—they were fuel. Jesus is not absent—He is imminent. But notice the open invitation: “Let anyone thirsty come… take the water of life freely.” The Ascended Christ is not exclusive. He is expansive. His arms remain open.
Do we live like people awaiting His return—or like people delaying His reign? We don’t know the hour of His return, but we see the urgency of His call. This is not a time for slumber. It is a time for soul-searching.
- What are we doing with the time we’ve been given?
- Are we thirsty for the things of God, or distracted by the things of earth?
John 17 is part of what is often called "The High Priestly Prayer" of Jesus. It concludes a major section of John’s Gospel (chapters 13–17) known as the Farewell Discourse—Jesus’ final teachings and prayers with His disciples before His arrest.
John 17, in particular, is unique among the four Gospels. No other Gospel gives us such intimate access to Jesus praying directly to the Father, not just for Himself, but for His disciples, and then, in verses 20–26, for all future believers. This includes you and me.
Jesus is praying for the Church that will exist after His death, resurrection, and ascension. This prayer reaches across time, space, and history. It is a window into the heart of Christ on the eve of His passion—and it reveals His deepest desire for unity, glory, and love to be made manifest among His people.
Jesus is praying this prayer in Jerusalem, in the final hours before His arrest. At this time, the Second Temple still stood, and Jewish expectations of the Messiah were largely political and nationalistic.
Many believed the Messiah would liberate Israel from Roman oppression and establish a geopolitical kingdom. But in this prayer, Jesus reveals a radically different vision—one rooted in spiritual unity, divine indwelling, and eternal glory, not military conquest or political revolution.
He prays not for Israel’s national victory, but for the oneness of all believers in Him—Jews and Gentiles, now and in the future.
John 17:23 – “May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me…”
After the Ascension, the Church becomes the embodied witness to Christ’s ongoing presence. Our unity testifies to the world that the risen, ascended Christ is alive and active.
Because division destroys our witness. If Jesus ascended to unite heaven and earth, why do we allow petty differences to divide us?
Church, in an age of political tribalism, racial tension, and denominational pride—what if our unity became our greatest evangelism?
Imagine a church where:
- Democrats and Republicans pray together.
- Rich and poor break bread together.
- Black, white, brown all sing together: “He is Lord.”
That’s the power of the Ascension: He lifts us above the barriers of earth, into the oneness of heaven.
There’s a story from World War II. After the Allies liberated a village in France, a soldier went into a bombed-out church. He found a statue of Christ, damaged. The hands were missing. A few days later, someone placed a sign beneath it: “He has no hands but yours.”
That’s Ascension theology. Christ is risen. Christ is enthroned. But now we are His body.
He has no hands but ours. No voice but ours. No feet but ours.
There’s a funny story of a raw army recruit standing at attention on the drill field. The drill instructor yells, “Forward, march!” and the entire ranks begin to move—except for one lone recruit, still standing there at attention. The drill instructor storms over and yells into his right ear, “Is this thing working?” “Sir, yes, sir!” the recruit replies. Then the instructor circles to the other ear and shouts again, “Is this thing working?” “Sir, yes, sir!” “Then why didn’t you march when I gave the order?” “Sir, I didn’t hear you call my name.”
Some of us are like that soldier—standing around waiting for God to call our names. But Ascension reminds us that Jesus has already given the order: Go. Make disciples. Teach. The Great Commission, spoken as Jesus rose to heaven, wasn’t just for a few—it has everyone’s name on it. The risen and ascended Christ entrusts his mission to us all.
So, beloved in Christ:
- The Ascension is not about Jesus going away. It’s about Jesus going everywhere. It’s not about the Church waiting. It’s about the Church witnessing. It’s not about escapism. It’s about engagement.
We are not left behind. We are sent forward. We are not abandoned. We are empowered. We are not spectators. We are participants. Let us live lifted lives. Lifted in love. Lifted in purpose. Lifted in courage. Because he is lifted—and so are we. Amen.