Sermon: Looking Up

Text: Acts 1:6-14

7^th Sunday in Easter (A)

May 4, 2008

Scripture introduction.  Our second reading this morning—from the first chapter of the book of Acts—tells how the risen Jesus, who had given final teachings to his disciples for forty days after his resurrection, then departed from them, ascending into heaven and disappearing into a cloud.  In Greek, as in English, the word “heaven”[1] can mean the place where God resides; but it can also have the simple meaning, “sky.”  So, we may wonder, was Luke simply saying that Jesus ascended into the sky and disappeared into a cloud?  Or is there more going on here?

This passage illustrates well that the New Testament must be read in light of the Old Testament.  And in the Old Testament the word “cloud” had many important associations.  Moses, on the top of Mount Sinai, met God in a cloud.[2]  As the children of Israel escaped Egypt across the Red Sea and later navigated forty years in the wilderness, it was the pillar of fire that guided and protected them by night and the pillar of cloud by day.[3]  When the Ark was built to store the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments, God’s presence on Earth was understood to be in a cloud directly above the Ark, in the Holy of Holies of the Tabernacle or Temple.[4]  And during the earthly ministry of Jesus, before his crucifixion, when he went up the mountain with Peter, James, and John and was transfigured before them in dazzling light as he spoke to Moses and Elijah, all of that took place inside a dense cloud.[5]  There are other examples, but perhaps these serve to make the point that Jesus did not simply go up into the sky until he was hidden in a cloud.  Rather, he ascended to the place where God resided, into the cloud that represented the very presence and power and holiness of God.

Sermon.  I learned an important lesson in high school marching band.  When I was a lowly freshman it seemed to me that the French horn section was filled with stars.  The first chair horn player was Manson Crotty, who was also the drum major and had won most of the academic and citizenship awards that our school had to offer.  After him, and one year behind, were Jodean Livingston (who had the musical gift of perfect pitch) and Kathy Gilmer, both of whom were accomplished horn players.  (Jodean later married one of the drummers, who himself would become a Presbyterian minister.)  After that first year, when Manson graduated, I didn’t think much about the loss because I knew that Jodean and Kathy could take up the slack.  But the year after that, when the two of them graduated, I realized that for the next two years I would be the section leader.  Now I don’t mind telling you that my skill level was considerably below that of Manson or Jodean or Kathy.  But as I look back on it, I think I understand that the increased pressure I felt as a result of their departure made me a better player.  One of our pieces in state band competition began with a French horn solo.  When we played back the tape of the performance, our band director said that if you listened closely you could hear my heart beating just before the solo!  But I survived.  And the solo, though somewhat timid, was mostly clear of burbles.  As long as I could allow others to carry the load, I did not develop as a musician.  But when they were gone, I found talents and strength that I did not know I had.

That same dynamic operates in this passage from Acts.  Before the arrest and crucifixion of Jesus, his disciples had gone along for the ride.  I don’t mean to suggest that their lives were without sacrifice or challenge, but Jesus was always there to take the lead and to show the way.  Jesus’ crucifixion, death, and burial left them terrorized and despondent; but those feelings were quickly replaced by joy as they accepted the fact of his resurrection.  And then came the forty days of instruction.  Jesus must have used this time to help the disciples put everything together—his life, his teachings, all in the context of Scripture. 

We can understand if they assumed that, once again, Jesus would be out in front, leading the charge.  In fact, our passage this morning begins with their question, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”  This had been the hope of the Jewish people for more than five hundred years—ever since the Babylonian Exile.  Jesus’ reply must have been disappointing to them, who had just spent more than six weeks getting additional knowledge and insight from Jesus.  “It is not for you to know,” he said.  And then he added, “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.”  It is as if to say, “I have taught you enough now; soon it will be time to act.  For that you will need power.  And when you receive it, you will be my witnesses, starting right here in Jerusalem, and spreading outward to the ends of the earth.”

As soon as he had made this point, he was gone!  Just as the Old Testament Elisha saw his mentor Elijah going up to heaven in a whirlwind with a fiery chariot,[6] so the disciples saw Jesus departing into the cloud of God’s presence.  But this time, unlike the Crucifixion, they knew that he was alive!  And just as Elisha had inherited a double measure of the spirit of Elijah,[7] Jesus had promised the disciples they would receive the Holy Spirit, who would teach them and lead them on his behalf.  No wonder they went back to Jerusalem to be together and to pray!  Ten days later, at Pentecost, the Holy Spirit did come upon them.  (That’s a preview of next week.)  And from that point forward, they discovered power and strength and conviction and talents that they did not know they had.  Jesus’ physical departure had challenged them to move from being disciples (those who learn) to apostles (those who are sent to teach and to act). 

As we might expect from a book called “Acts of the Apostles,” the remainder of the book is filled with stories about how the Holy Spirit empowered these early church leaders courageously to preach the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ.  As Jesus had, so these apostles accompanied their preaching and teaching with amazing acts of healing—demonstrating the truthfulness of their assertions that God loves us and wants everyone in the world to be free and whole and healthy.  Think about the implications for us.  Do we believe that the Holy Spirit provided power for the apostles but now for some reason has stopped?  When I was a boy I wondered why it was that we do not see miracles today.  As I recall someone answered that the age of miracles lasted only long enough to establish the church and that since we now have the church we no longer need miracles of power and healing.[8]  If I ever accepted that answer, I don’t any longer.  I don’t believe Scripture teaches us that the Holy Spirit will cease providing power.  Could it be that we don’t see the power of the Spirit because we have not allowed the Spirit to work through us—that if we would ask the Spirit to work through us directly we would begin to see and experience amazing things?  Maybe if we were open to the possibility that the Spirit still works powerfully and mysteriously, we would begin to see the miracles and understand them as the direct work of God.  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my answers to these questions.  Would you help me by making them your questions, too?  My sense is that the answers could be very important to our church, and to the church.

One commentator[9] has pointed out that in the book of Acts, the Holy Spirit is almost exclusively associated with acts of power and direction.  But, as we learn from other books of the Bible, such as John’s gospel and the letters of Paul, that is only one aspect of the Spirit’s work.  The Spirit draws us together so that, as Christ prayed in our first reading this morning, we “all may be one” as Christ was one with God the Father.  It is the Holy Spirit who gives us the insight and intuition properly to interpret Scripture and to appropriate its lessons for our own lives.  It is the Holy Spirit who gives faith to us and who unites us with Christ, in order that he may take on himself our unrighteousness, and we take on his perfect righteousness.  It is the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, who guides us into all truth.  It is the Holy Spirit who is our comforter when the road of life is steep and rough and it seems there is no one to help.  It is the Holy Spirit who is our Advocate, our champion, pleading our case constantly before God. 

And it is the Holy Spirit who in the Lord’s Supper unites us with Christ and with all the saints of every time and place.  In the richness of Scripture’s resources, God has provided enough points of view for us to have an adequate understanding of the work of the Spirit.[10]  There is the power of the Spirit, manifest in the book of Acts.  And in other books there is the Spirit who loves and supports and guides and encourages.  As we share the Lord’s Supper today, I hope we can sense the Spirit working in all those ways—first drawing us into the cloud of mystery and holiness as we encounter Christ in the bread and cup, then uniting us as the disciples were together in the upper room in Jerusalem, waiting and praying for what God would do next.  Finally, may we feel the Holy Spirit turning us from disciples into apostles—sending us out into the world with power, eager to be true and dependable witnesses for Jesus in whatever way the Spirit leads.