19.05.2026
Saint Francis
The Rev. Christian Jennert, Bridge Pastor
Ascension | May 17, 2026
Unlike the evangelists Mark and John, the evangelist Luke – from whom we receive today’s Gospel text – often comes across as thoughtful, observant, and careful. Tradition even remembers Luke as a physician, someone trained to notice details, think carefully, and remain calm in difficult moments.
And yet there is one moment in Jesus’ life that so deeply impresses Luke that he tells it twice: once at the end of his Gospel and again at the very beginning of the Book of Acts. That moment is the Ascension.
Every Sunday, we say it in the Creed almost without thinking: “He [Jesus] ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of God.” And yet, if I am honest, I have always struggled a little with the Ascension.
As a child growing up in Germany, I imagined the Ascension rather literally, The German word is Himmelfahrt – something like “journey into the heavens.” I pictured Jesus almost like a rocket disappearing into the sky. And the German language creates another challenge. Much like Hebrew and Greek, it uses the same word for both “sky” and “heaven”. So over time I began to wonder – perhaps Ascension is less about where Jesus went and more about what is happening.
There is something deeply human about the disciples standing there, gazing upward into the sky. Jesus has blessed them. Jesus has spoken peace to them. And now Jesus is gone from their sight. One can almost feel the silence of that moment. What now? What comes next? Where do we go from here? Most of us know moments like that.
After the end of a relationship. After the loss of a loved one. After disappointment. After life suddenly shifts beneath our feet. We try to sweep up the pieces of what remains and quietly wonder – what now?
The Ascension is often imagined as a departure story – as though Jesus simply leaves earth behind and disappears into heaven. But the Ascension is not really about absence. It is about transition. It is about a new way Christ will be present with the world.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus lifts his hands in blessing as he ascends. I love that image. The last image the disciples receive is not abandonment, but blessing. And then comes the promise: “You will be clothed with power from on high.” Ascension always points toward Pentecost.
Christ ascends not to leave the world behind, but so that the Holy Spirit may fill the whole church, the whole earth, the whole human family with the living presence of God. And remarkably, the disciples return to Jerusalem not in despair, but with joy. That joy comes from promise. They now understand that the risen Christ is no longer confined to one place, one road, one town, or one moment in history. Christ will now be present through the Holy Spirit, through the church, through the breaking of bread, through acts of mercy, justice, forgiveness, and love. And perhaps the words of the angels in Acts are also meant for us, “Why do you stand looking up toward Heaven?”
Faith does not call us to escape the world. Faith sends up back into it.
Back into neighborhoods and cities.
Back into relationships and responsibilities.
Back into a wounded and yet beautiful world that God still loves so deeply.
Perhaps that is why even small acts of welcome matter so much.
A conversation.
A shared table.
A church door left open.
A community willing to listen.
Even a banner hanging outside a church building that quietly tells the neighborhood: there is space here for you.
Ascension reminds us that the work of resurrection continues here. There is still a world to love. Still people to serve. Still justice to seek. Still hope to bear. And so, we have to ask, what does resurrection life look like now? What does it look like for you? What does it look like for St. Francis?
I find myself dreaming about the possibilities. About all the good already happening in this place. About the ways Christ is still alive among ordinary people like you and me who gather, pray, serve, and love.
The physician turned Gospel writer Luke understood something important – the Ascension was never the ending of the story. It was the beginning of the church’s witness. Christ is risen. Christ is ascended. And now Christ send us – still blessing us – to bear hope in the world.
Amen.
