Holy Trinity

June 16, 2019

John 3.1-17

+ When all is said and done, at the end of the day, I can say this about myself:

I am actually fairly orthodox in most of what I believe. I don’t say that pridefully. I’m not bragging. I’m just saying…

Yes, I know. I’m pretty liberal.  At least socially.

But theologically, I’m pretty cut and dry. It would be hard to find a major heresy in most of my thinking.

OK. Yes, I’m a universalist. I do believe that, eventually, we will all be together with Christ in heaven. I really do believe that. I do not believe in an eternal hell.

But the rest of it is pretty much straightforward.

I believe Jesus is the unique and divine Son of God.

I believe he’s the Word of God Incarnate.

I believe in the Virgin Birth and the Resurrection.

I believe prayer does make a difference in this world.

I believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Bread and Wine of the Eucharist.

And let’s not get into my view of Mary and the saints.

And then, there’s the Trinity.

Sigh.

The Trinity.

Every time I try to explain it, I find myself nudging over into some kind of heresy. Was that Modalist in my definition? Or am I guilty of Partialism?

I don’t want you to think I’m a heretic or anything. I don’t want any heresy charges brought against me. So, you know what? I’m not even going to attempt it today. After all, I’m just a priest. I’m not a theologian, nor have I ever claimed to be one.

Most of us, let’s face it, don’t give the doctrine of the Trinity a lot of thought. Like you, I really don’t lost a lot of sleep over it.  I approach this Sunday and this doctrine of the Holy Trinity as I approach any similar situation, like Christmas or Easter or, as we celebrated last Sunday, the Holy Spirit and Pentecost.

It’s a mystery. And I love the mystery of our faith. And let me tell  you, there is nothing more mysterious than the Trinity.

God as Three-in-One—God as Father or Parent or Creator, God as Son or Redeemer and God as Spirit or Sanctifier.

I know, I know.  It’s difficult to wrap our minds around this concept of God.

The questions we priests regularly get is: how can God be three and yet one?  How can we, in all honesty, say that we believe in one God when we worship God as three?  

Certainly our Jewish and  Muslim brothers and sisters ask that very important question of us: Aren’t you simply talking about three gods?

(We’re not, by the way—just to be clear about that)

My answer is: I don’t know.

But I believe. I don’t know what it is, but I believe in it.

Whole Church councils have debated the issue of the Trinity throughout history.  The Church actually has split at times over its interpretation of what exactly this Trinity is.  

We can debate it all we want this morning. We can talk what is orthodox or right-thinking about the Trinity all we want.

But the fact remains that unless we have experienced God in a real and somewhat personal way, none of this talk to the Trinity is really going to matter, ultimately.  There is the key to everything this Sunday is about.  We can go on and on about theology and philosophy and all manner of thoughts about God, but ultimately what matters is how we interact with our God.

How is our relationship with God and with each other deepened and made more real by this one God? That’s what Jesus tells us again and again.

Just love God.

In scripture we don’t find people worrying too much about whether they are committing a heresy or not in trying to describe God.  

What do we find in scripture? We find a constant striving toward a more personal and closer relationship with God.  This is our primary responsibility: our relationship with God.

How can all this talk about God—how can this thinking about God—then deepen our relationship with God?  

Our goal is not to understand God: we will never understand God.  God is not some Rubik’s Cube or a puzzle that has to be solved.  Our goal is to know God. In our hearts. Passionately.    

Our goal is to love God.

Our goal is to try to experience God as God wishes to be experienced by us.

Because God does know us.

God does love us.

And, more likely than not, we have actually experienced our God in more than one way more than once in our lives.

I personally have experienced the Trinity—or rather, I should say, I have experienced God in a tri-personal kind of way (I don’t know what heresy that might be, but I really don’t care)  

I personally have experienced as a loving and caring parent, especially when I think about those times when I have felt marginalized by people or the Church or society or by friends and colleagues.

I have also known Jesus as my redeemer—as One who, in Jesus, has come to me where I am, as Jesus who suffered in a body and who, in turn, knows my suffering because this One also has suffered as well. And this One has promised that I too can be, like Jesus, a child of this God who is my—and our—Parent.    I have been able to take comfort in the fact that God is not some distant deity who could not comprehend what I have gone through in my life and in this limited, mortal body.  In Jesus, God knows what it was to be limited by our bodies.  There is something wonderful and holy in that realization.

And I have known the healing and renewal of the Spirit of God of my life.

If that’s the Trinity—and certainly that’s the Trinity I have experienced in my life—then, it’s wonderful!

If all we do is ponder and argue and debate God and God’s nature, we’ve already thrown in the towel.  And we are defeating the work of God.  But if we simply love God and strive to experience God through prayer  and worship and contemplation, that is our best bet.

No matter what the theologians argue about, no matter what those supposedly learned teachers proclaim, ultimately, our understanding of God needs to be based on our own experience to some extent.

Yes, God is beyond our understanding. Yes, God is mysterious and amazing and incredible.  But God does not have to be a frustrating aspect of our church and our faith.  Our experience of God should rather widen and expand our faith life and our understanding and experience of God and, in turn, of each other.

So, today, as we ponder God—as we consider how God has worked in our lives in many ways— and who God is in our lives, let us remember how amazing God is in the ways God is revealed to us.  God cannot be limited or quantified or reduced.  

God can only be experienced.

And adored.

And pondered.

God can only be shared with others as we share love with each other.

When we do that—when we live out and share our loving God with others—then we are joining with the amazing and mysterious work of God who is here with us, loving us with a love deeper than any love we have ever known before.

15 Years a Priest!

June 12, 2019

Matthew 10.7-16

 + In our Gospel reading for tonight, we hear Jesus say, “I am sending you as sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”

I can say that scripture has definitely been a prophecy-fulfilled in my ministry. When I heard those words fifteen years ago last night, I may have had an idea of what Jesus meant. Fifteen year later, I can truly say I KNOW what Jesus meant.

I’ve been there, in the midst of those wolves. And if I have had any gift granted to me by God to survive, it has definitely been to be wise as a serpent and innocent as a dove.  Well, I don’t know how “innocent” I’ve been.  But I’ve tried really hard to be innocent as a dove.

Fifteen years ago, on that that hot night (and it WAS hot that night) I was impatient. I was biting at the bit. I was straining forward. That ordination couldn’t happen fast enough.

And when it did, it was something. It was unique. And it was wonderful. I truly experienced the Holy Spirit that night.

I have told you before how, when the Bishop laid hands on my head that night, I FELT the electricity of the Spirit in that moment. And I definitely felt something change in me.

At moments, it seems like it was just yesterday.  And at other moments, it seems like it was 100 years ago.

15 years of priestly ministry. You have heard me say it before. I will say it again a hundred times I’m sure.

I love being a priest.

I  can say in all honesty that I was meant to be a priest. As sure as a shark is meant to hunt, or a fish to swim, I was meant to be a priest. It was almost like it was programmed into me.

Now saying that, I’m not saying I have been a perfect priest. I was never called to be a perfect priest.  Nor even at times, have I been a particular good priest.

I have failed.

I have tripped up.

I have stumbled.

I have made many, many mistakes.

But even then, even with all the mistakes I’ve made, it’s all right. It’s all good. Still, it hasn’t been easy.  

I remember twenty years ago, when I told the first Episcopal priest I too wanted to be an Episcopal priest, he leaned back in his chair, put his fingers to his chin and shook his head.

“It’s never going to happen,” he said.

And I thought then, that was it.

All right. 

The door was closed and that was that.

And if that priest had had his way, it would’ve ended there.

Actually, let’s face it: the odds were against me. Because of who I am and what I am, I really can’t imagine now how I made it through and was ordained.

And there were people who said I shouldn’t have been ordained.

There were people who said I had no right to stand at the altar.

Sadly for them, they did not get their way.

Nor really did I.

God did.

Some priests have been able to fly under the radar. Not me. Which is not always a good thing.

Being a priest like me means being a target. A big target. For better or for worse.

But it helped that I did not go into this as some doe-eyed, naïve PollyAnna.  I was prepared for all this vocation would give me—both good and bad. I knew and was prepared for all of those things.

Fifteen years ago I thought I knew what it meant to be “broken.” I know now what it means to be broken.  And I have served many broken people.

But I was also prepared for the good things, as much as anyone can be prepared for such things in their lives.

In these fifteen years I’ve known the beauty of grace and friendship. I knew what it was, in those moments, to see God breaking through in wonderful and incredible ways.

I also realized that all that spiritual training I had—clinging to the Holy Eucharist and the discipline of the Daily Offices of Morning and Evening Prayer—could truly sustain one spiritually when the Devil takes you by throat and shakes you.  The Holy Eucharist and the Daily Office have been my buoys.  They have been the buoys through the hard times. They have been the buoys when my father died and then when my mother died.  They have helped me when I have felt so utterly alone in this world. They helped me keep my head above water.

So, yes, I am the scarred veteran priest.

But I stand before you as priest who can still hold my head up and say, without one qualm, without one doubt, without hesitation: I am so happy to be a priest.

I am!

I really am!

I’m going to close tonight with the prayer I had printed on my worship booklet back then. It was a prayer I adapted from a prayer by one of my all-time heroes, Michael Ramsey, Archbishop of Canterbury. I can say that this has been a prayer that has been answered in ways I never knew prayers could be answered. This is a prayer that is a very clear warning to everyone: be careful sometimes what you pray for. 

It might actually be answered.

I close with this prayer I prayed fifteen years ago last night. And tonight, I can say that prayer has been answered. Again and again in my life. And for that, I am truly grateful.

Let us pray.

                                                                                   

Holy God, the years have fallen away—one by one—

only to reveal this one shining moment.

It lies here before me as a precious gift I neither asked for nor deserved.

And yet, here it is. Here it is in its beauty, more precious than any other gift.     

Only one thing I ask: take my heart and break it.

Break it not as I would like it to be broken, but as you would.

And because it is you who are breaking it, how can I be  afraid,

for your hands are the hands I have felt all my life at my back and on my face, supporting me, comforting me and guiding me

to the places you wanted me to be.

Your hands  are safety and in them, I am safe.

Take my heart and where you have broken it, fill it with joy—

not the joy I want for myself, but the joy you want for me.

Fill my heart with a burning joy and let its fire burn away

everything dead or dying within me.

Let my heart burn with a joy I cannot imagine

and can only vaguely comprehend.

It’s time, Lord, and I am ready.

See! I am ready to be your priest.

Pentecost

June 9, 2019

 Acts 2.1-21

+ In case you might not have guessed, today—Pentecost Sunday—is an important day in the life of the Church. Important like Christmas and Easter are important.

Today, we commemorate the end of the Easter season today, which is important.   At the end of Mass today, we will process the Paschal Candle back to its place in the Baptistery, where it will stand by the baptismal font until next year.  Back in April, we processed the Paschal Candle in at the Easter Vigil. So, this is a fitting end to the season.

It’s been a good Easter season.  And it’s sad to see it go.

But, of course, most importantly, we commemorate today  the descent of the Holy Spirit on those first followers of Jesus.  What’s surprising is that, as important as this day is, there still is not a whole lot of writers who write about the Holy Spirit.

In fact, one of the best writers I’ve found who writes the best about the Holy Spirit, isn’t even a Christian. The Vietnamese Zen Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh has some very powerful things to say about the Holy Spirit and his belief that there is a connection between the Holy Spirit and the Zen concept of mindfulness.

Another writer that I admire greatly wrote a wonderful book about the Holy Spirit.  The late great Episcopal writer, Phyllis Tickle, wrote a wonderful book called The Age of the Spirit; How the Ghost of an Ancient Controversy is Shaping the Church.  In an interview she gave while promoting that book, Tickle said this:

“…we’re seeing a need to experience the Spirit everyday and a belief in the accessibility of the Spirit. Most Christians 100 years ago would have prayed to Jesus. Today, people are actually praying to the Spirit with regularity. So, there is greater engagement with the Spirit in a way that would not have been true in years past.”

That may be true. But I think many Christians still don’t quite “get” the Holy Spirit.

As you probably notice, Christians think A LOT about Jesus.  Which is very good!  BUT….although they think VERY much about Jesus, and pray to Jesus a lot, there isn’t always a lot of following of Jesus. There isn’t a lot of being Jesus in the world. And that isn’t just sad or unfortunate. That is detrimental to the Church as a whole.

Sadly, the Holy Spirit just doesn’t capture the imagination of most Christians like Jesus does.  After all, the Spirit is usually depicted as a dove. Not an exciting symbol for most people.

But, let me tell you, the Holy Spirit is VERY important.  Vitally important.  

Essential.

In fact, the Spirit is probably that one aspect of God that we experience in our own lives more than any other aspect of God.  Every time we feel God’s  Presence in our life, every time we feel a sense of the Holy, that is the Spirit. And everything we do as a Church is done in the Spirit of God.

Even here in the Holy Eucharist, when we partake of the Bread and the Wine, we are partaking in the Spirit of God.  We actually call down the Spirit in this Eucharist.

15 years ago this coming Tuesday, I was ordained to the Priesthood. On that day, the Bishop laid hands upon my had and prayed this prayer:

Therefore, Father, through Jesus Christ your Son, give your Holy Spirit to Jamie; fill him with grace and power, and make him a priest in your Church.

And let me tell you: I felt the Spirit at the moment very powerfully!  In fact, it was one of the most amazing moments of my life! Most importantly the Spirit works in other amazing ways in the Church.

Whenever anyone asks me. What is the secret of our success here at St. Stephen’s? How has your congregation grown and become so vital and alive? What do I say?  I always say: The Holy Spirit.

It is God’s living Spirit that is responsible for growth and vitality and holiness. It the Spirit that many of us feel when we enter this church and gather together. It is that wonderful kind of disconcerting energy we feel in the air, that reaches right down into us and grabs us in our core. THAT is the Spirit.

So, see, the Spirit is very active in our lives.  And by being active in life, we know that God is active in our lives.

Today we are reminded of how the Holy Spirit continues to move in our lives.  We are reminded that the Holy Spirit is in the collective Church.  And in us, as individuals.   And that moving of the Holy Spirit within us, has changed us and made us a wonderful force of good and love in the world. I think most of us—I hope most of us—have felt this moving of the Holy Spirit within us as some point.  

Still, even if we haven’t, when it comes to the Holy Spirit, we all find ourselves grasping and struggling to define who and what the Spirit is in our lives.    The Spirit can be elusive and strange and sometimes we might have a hard time wrapping our minds around the Spirit.

But it is clear from the words of Jesus before he ascends back into heaven what the role of the Spirit is:   Although Jesus might no longer be with us physically as he was when he walked with the disciples, God’s spirit that was in Jesus will always remain with us.   Jesus will leave—we will not be able to touch him and feel him and listen to his human voice again.   But God is leaving something amazing in Jesus’ place.

And this is not just some nice, pleasant gift. It is a gift that makes us live up to our full potential as lovers of God.

In a sense what happens with the Descent of God’s Spirit upon us is the fact that we now have the potential to be prophets, as you’ve heard me say many, many times. The same Spirit which spoke to Ezekiel, which spoke to Isaiah, which spoke to Jeremiah, which spoke to Moses, also can now speak to us and be revealed to us just as it spoke and was revealed to those prophets from the Hebrew Scripture.

That is who the Spirit is in our midst. The Spirit we celebrate today—and hopefully every day—is truly the Spirit of the God that came to us and continues to come to us—first to those prophets in our Hebrew past, then in the Word who is Jesus and finally in that rushing wind and in that rain of burning flames. It is through this Spirit that we come to know God in ways we might never have before.

The Spirit is God with us NOW.

Right here.

Right now.

Always.

So, how do we know the Spirit is working in our lives?   Well, as Jesus said, we know the tree by its fruit.   In our case, we know the Spirit best through the fruits God’s Spirit gives us.    It was on the feast of Pentecost in Jewish culture on which the first fruit were offered to God.   In fact, today is the feast of Shavuot, which is wheat harvest in Israel.

In a sense, what happens on our Pentecost, is God returning those fruits to us.  On the feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the fruits the Spirit of God gives to us and we can be thankful for them.    The Spirit comes to us and manifests itself to us in the fruits given to us by the Spirit.

But, we must not let the Holy Spirit do all the work. It is important that we actually DO the work the Holy Spirit gives us. We must cultivate those fruits of the Spirit.

Yes, we can pray for them. Yes, we can pray novenas and ask the Spirit to come and convict and convert us. But we have to be ready for that first.  We have to be doing the work already—we have to be out there, getting the ground ready for those fruits first.

But unless we work to make fertile ground in which those fruits grow and flourish, we are not doing OUR part.

The Spirit works with us, not for us. We can’t manipulate the Spirit. We can’t force the Spirit to do anything—especially  what we want that Spirit to do.  We can’t control that Spirit any more than we can control the wind.  We have to do part of the work ourselves.  This is the way the Spirit works.

Our job as followers of Jesus is to be open to God’s Spirit, the same way he was open to God’s Spirit, just the way his mother Mary was open to God’s Spirit, just the way those first followers in that upper room were open to God’s Spirit.  Our job is to allow the Spirit to be present and to do what the Spirit does.

For us collectively here at St. Stephen’s, we’ve been doing that all along. How do we know that? Well, just take a look at our fruits. Take a look at the fruits of the Holy Spirit flourishing here at St. Stephen’s. And when we do, let’s not be critical, let’s not be proud, let’s not say to ourselves, “well, of course.”

Rather, let us be thankful to the Spirit of God with us, to the Spirit who dwells with us here.  And let us continue to welcome that Spirit into our midst to continue to the work begun here. 

So, this week of Pentecost, let us look for the gifts of the Spirit in our lives and in those around us.   Let us open ourselves to God’s Spirit and let it flow through us like a caressing wind.    And let us remember the true message of the Spirit to all of us—whenever it seems like God is distant or nonexistent, that is when God’s Spirit might possibly be closest of all, dwelling within us, being breathed unto as it was those first disciples.   

On this feast of Pentecost—this feast of the fruits of God—let us feel the Holy Spirit move within us and let us give thanks to God for all the many fruits of the Spirit in our lives.

 Let us pray.

Come Holy Spirit: come as the wind and cleanse; come as the fire and burn; convict, convert, consecrate the lives of the members of St. Stephen’s, to our great good and your greater glory. Let us know your Presence here and let the gift of your fruits flourish in our midst. Amen.

The Requiem Mass for Jacque Stockman

Jacque Stockman

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Fargo, North Dakota

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

It a true honor to officiate at this service for Jacque. As some of you know, I actually knew Jacque for many years. He was my father’s attorney for many years. And I remember well going with my father as a kid to Jacque’s office.

As I’ve heard from many people and as I knew myself: There was only one Jacque Stockman. And the world is just a bit different now that he is no longer in it.

What I admired most about Jacque is that he was truly an advocate to my father when my father needed an advocate in his life.  And because he was, not only my father admired him, but I did too. He made a difference in my father’s life. And, without a doubt, he made a difference in many other people’s lives as well. And that is the important thing to remember today as we remember Jacque.

Being an advocate is not just something one does. It is truly a vocation, in the best sense of that word. A vocation is a calling. It is more than just a job. It is more than what one does. It is something one is. And I believe being an advocate for others is often a journey down the road less traveled.

It is a hard job. It is often a very thankless job. It is very difficult at times. It is often a journey into uncharted territory at times. There are times when one wonders why one even did it. There are times when one wonders if what one is doing is really even making a difference.  There were no doubt times when one might even regret it (and that’s all right).

But the fact remains: advocating for others makes all the difference.  It may take years and years before anyone appreciates the difference a an advocate makes. But it does matter. And what they do outlives them.

Their legacy is justice and rightness! How incredible is that? And what a legacy!

 Just think for one moment about all the lives that were affected by Jacque Stockman.  I hope Jacque knew this in his life. I hope Jacque was able to appreciate it and be thankful for it.

As you may know, Jacque was a long time member of 1^st Lutheran Church here in Fargo. Then, in March of 2017, he transferred his membership here to St. Stephen’s. He liked the feeling here—it reminded him, he said, of the little Lutheran he knew as a kid.

I knew well what it meant to be Jacque’s priest.  I knew, fairly well, his beliefs (or lack thereof)  I knew he was an atheist, which of course did not bother me in the least. In fact, I respected him for them, which I know he appreciated.

The last time I talked to Jacque (the second to the last time I saw him), he had just endured a particularly difficult bout of pneumonia. But there he was, sitting up in bed, and when I entered the room he smiled genuinely at me.  He was happy to see me And as we talked, he talked fondly of my father. And that meant so much to me.

If my father was there that day, or even here today, he would say to Jacque: Thank you. Thank you for all you did. And that is also what all those people for whom Jacque Stockman was an advocate will say.

Yes, it is a sad day today for those of us who knew and cared for Jacque. But we do have our consolations today. Our consolation today is that all that was good in him, all that was talented and charming and full of life in him—all of that is not lost today. It is here, with us, who remember him and cared for him and respected him. It is there in those for whom he was an advocate.

And, for those of who have faith in God and in a life that is beyond this life, we take consolation that all of that goodness now dwells in a place free from pain and hardship.  The consolation we can take away from today is that, all of the difficult things in Jacque’s life are over for him.   He is now, in this moment, fully and completely himself.  He is whole in this moment.

In his later years, Jacque came to greatly appreciate Judaism.  I have too.  So, in a few moments, we will pray the Kaddish, the traditional Jewish prayer of mourning, for Jacque and in honor of his interest in Judaism.  I think it very appropriate to do so in this service in which we do give thanks for Jacque and all he was to us.  

After all, Jacque chose the right path. Those of us who are gathered together today can attest to that fact.

So, let us be thankful that he did make the right choice in his life.  It did make all the difference.  Amen.

7 Easter

The Sunday after the Ascension

June 2, 2019

Revelation 22.12-13, 16-17, 20-21

+ This past Wednesday evening, we celebrated the Eve of the feast of the Ascension.  Now, for most of us, this just isn’t that big of a feastday for us.

In fact, I don’t know a whole lot of Christians who, quite honestly, even give the Ascension a second thought.  Some of us might look at the Ascension as a kind of anticlimactic event.  

The Resurrection has already occurred on Easter morning.   That of course is the big event.  

The Ascension comes as it does after Jesus has appeared to his disciples and has proved to them that he wasn’t simply a ghost,  but was actually resurrected in his body. In comparison to Easter, the Ascension is a quiet event.  

The resurrected Jesus simply leads his followers out to Bethany and, then, quietly, he is taken up by God into heaven.   And that’s it.

There are no angels, no trumpet blasts.

There is no thunder or lightning.

He just goes. And that’s that.

So, why is the Ascension so important to us?  Well, it’s important on two levels.

One, on a practical level, we recognize the fact that, at the Ascension, this is where our work begins.   This is when our work as followers of Jesus begins.  We, at this point, become the Presence of Jesus now in the world.  This is where we are now compelled to go out now and actually do the work Jesus has left for us to do.

Those apostles who are left gazing up at  Jesus don’t just simple linger there, wringing their hands, wondering what has just happened. Well, actually, yes, that’s exactly what they do. They fiddle their thumbs and stumble around.  For a while anyway. But eventually, with a BIG prompting from the Holy Spirit, they get going. They go out and start doing what they are meant to do. But we’re going to talk about that NEXT Sunday on the feast of Pentecost.

For now, we’re here, with them, watching Jesus being taken up, out of their midst.  For now, we know Jesus is taken out of our midst and is seated at the right hand of God.  Again, this is the point in which we become the presence of Christ in this world.

Now, I love the Feast of the Ascension!  What I love about the feast is that it is more than just going out to do Jesus’ work.  Which brings us to our second point.

Again and again, as we see in the life of Jesus, it isn’t just about Jesus. Our job is not simply to observe Jesus and bask quietly in his holiness.  It’s about us too.

When we hear the fantastic stories of Jesus birth’ at Christmas, we can look at them as simply fantastic. They are wonderful stories that happened then and there, to him.  

Or…we could see them for what they are for us. We could see it our birth story as well.

God worked in the life of Mary and Joseph and God’s own Son was born. But it should remind us that God worked in our birth as well. Well. Maybe not with angels and shepherds. But God worked in our lives even from the beginning, as God did in the life of Jesus.

With Jesus, born as he was, with God’s special light and care upon him, we too were born.  Jesus’ birth became our birth.  At  Easter too, we could simply bask in the glorious mystery of Jesus’ resurrection from the tomb.

But the story doesn’t really mean anything to us until we see ourselves being resurrected with him. His resurrection is our resurrection as well. God, who raised Jesus, will raise us as well.

Well, the same thing happened last Thursday.  Jesus’s ascension is our ascension as well. What God does for Jesus, God does for us too.  That’s incredibly important to understand!

We are not simply followers of Jesus. We are sharers with Jesus in all that happens to him.  And that is incredibly wonderful! The event of the Incarnation is a reminder that in much the same way God is incarnate in Jesus so God is incarnate in us as well.

So, regarding the Ascension, it is important for us to look at what happened and see it not only with Jesus’ eyes, but our eyes as well.  Yes, we are rooted to this earth, to creation. We are children of this world.

But we are also children of the next world as well. We are children of heaven too.  Jesus tells us in our reading from Revelation today:

“See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work.”

Our reward, as children of Heaven, is with the One who says,

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

What the ascension reminds us is that we are inheritors of heaven too.  We, like Jesus, will one day ascend like him, beyond this world.  We will be taken up and be with God, just as Jesus is with God. In fact, our whole life here is a slow, steady ascension toward God. We are moving, incrementally, upward toward God.

This is our journey.

And as we do, as we recognize that we are moving upward, slowly ascending, like Jesus, to that place in which we ultimately belong, we should be feeling what Jesus no doubt felt as he ascended.

Joy.

Happiness.

Exultation.

When we are happy—when we are joyful—we often use the word soar.  Our hearts soar with happiness.  When we are full of joy and happiness we imagine ourselves floating upward.  In a sense, when we are happy or in love or any of those other wonderful things, we, in a sense, ascend.

Conversely, when we are depressed we plunge.

We fall.

We go down.  

So this whole idea of ascension—of going “up”—is important.  Jesus, in his joy, went up toward God.  And we, in our joy, are, at this very moment, following that path.

We have followed Jesus through his entire journey so far. We have followed him from his birth, through his ministry, to his cross. We have followed him to his descent into hell and through his resurrection from the tomb. And now, we are following him on his ascension.  And it is joyful and glorious.  

And just when we think God has provided just what we need for this journey, we find one more truly amazing gift to us.  Next week, an event will happen that will show us that Jesus remains with us in an even more extraordinary way.  On that day—Pentecost Sunday—God’s Spirit will descend upon us and remain with us always.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.  For now, we must simply face the fact that it all does fall into place.   All that following of Jesus is now really starting to pay off.  We know now—fully and completely—that God will never leave us alone.  In what seems like defeat, there is amazing resurrection, and ascension.  In what seemed like being stuck to an earth that often feels sick and desolate, we are now soar.

So, today, and this week, as we remember and rejoice in the Ascension, as we prepare for the Holy Spirit’s descent, let our hearts ascend with Jesus.  Let them soar upward in joy at the fact that God is still with us. Let us be filled with joy that God’s Spirit dwells within us and can never be taken from us.  

As we heard in our reading from Revelation today:

“Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.”

Let us take this gift of the water of life.

Let us rise up, saying: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

Let us rise up, in joy.

Let it rise up in us and sing through us to those around us we are called to  serve. Amen.