We are Not in Control

Ascension Sunday

May 21, 2023

Acts 1:6-14

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying. Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

The Homily by David Whitlow

Christian churches around the world celebrate today as Ascension Sunday, being the closest Sunday to Ascension Day, which was on this past Thursday. Ascension Day, according to Acts, occurred forty days after the resurrection, and was the occasion of Jesus’ being lifted into heaven.

Imagine what these 40 days must have been like for Jesus’ disciples as they dealt with the confusion and horror of his capture, trial and execution, and then the grief following his death. What was their fate to be? Had this truly been the Messiah? What would they do now that Jesus was gone? And then, Jesus reappears, not once, but several times after his resurrection, continuing to teach. And now he takes them out of Jerusalem, presumably to Bethany, to give them final instructions—go back to Jerusalem and wait for “the promise of the Father”. Yet, they still had questions:

Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?

This makes me pause. Haven’t the disciples been listening? And if they have been, why don’t they understand? If the disciples who had been with him day and night for three years didn’t understand, how can I? I suspect that it was really their disappointment that Jesus did not fulfill their expectation that the Messiah would be a conquering hero, physically vanquishing the opposition and regaining the throne.

Rather than chastising them for their not understanding, Jesus simply says:

It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.

And then, Jesus rises up through the air and disappears in the clouds. The disciples stand there, gazing up to the skies, as if something else is going to happen, when two robed figures appear, asking them why they are just standing there, that Jesus has told them how he would return. And the disciples now follow the directions, and return to Jerusalem, gathering with other disciples and believers, joining in prayer, and awaiting further direction.

So, Jesus sent them back to Jerusalem to wait. I wonder why they weren’t just sent out to begin to work? Waiting on God’s time.

During the time that we lived in Morehead City, NC, I worked closely with the National Weather Service Forecast Office in nearby Newport, one of 123 such offices across the country.

One of the things that happens every day at about 90 of these forecast offices is the launching of weather balloons. These balloons, when inflated, are 8 to 10 feet in diameter, and have the ability to lift a light payload. Attached to them is a short tether that holds a capsule about a foot long. In the capsule are tiny instruments that collect data, including latitude, longitude, altitude, barometric pressure, humidity, temperature, wind speed and wind direction. There is a small transmitter that sends this information back to the forecast office from which it was launched.

The balloons are hand launched and rise up to an altitude of about 100,000 feet, at which time the balloons are designed to burst and fall back to earth. During the course of their flights, they drift about 125 miles. Just for clarification, these balloons are nothing like the Chinese balloon that attracted so much attention several weeks ago.

One summer day, I arranged to take my son-in-law, who has an interest in meteorology, to the forecast office where we assisted in the launching of that day’s weather balloon. It was a blue sky, fluffy white clouds sort of day, with a gentle offshore breeze. The meteorologist in charge gave us instructions as to what we needed to do, took us out to an open field adjacent to the Doppler radar antenna, and we proceeded to slowly release the balloon carrying the capsule.

The meteorologist let us know that we would have to wait a while for the balloon to reach a certain altitude before the transmitter would begin to send back the data. There the three of us stood, looking up into the sky, watching the balloon slowly rise, then pick up more speed as it gained altitude. It took 5 to 10 minutes for it to get to around 20,000 feet and by that time, it had drifted 2 to 3 miles downrange and we could barely make out the tiny speck in the sky. It seemed otherworldly. Then the meteorologist turned to us and suggested that we go inside where we would wait to see the data arrive.

In the office, we stood before a bank of computer screens, one of which showed a small blinking dot superimposed on a map—our balloon. In a window on the same screen, we could see data begin to pour in, line after line. On a larger screen near the center of the room was a similar map, depicting many of the balloons that were also in the sky at the same time. And on the wall at the front of the room was a large screen, beginning to combine and convert these many data points into weather maps. It would take a few hours for all of the information to be converted to cover the entire country, if we wanted to wait.

These maps provide a good picture of what exists at a particular time, using these things that we cannot see with the naked eye, but they provide information that meteorologists can use to forecast what will happen in the near future. Though time, experience and knowledge allow forecasting to become more accurate, I think that we would all agree that sometimes, these forecasts are not perfect.

The Holy Spirit and the weather seem to have much in common. We can see how they move life in real time. We can identify some of the features that demonstrate a change. We can even feel, at times, that a change seems to be eminent. But in reality, we know very little about either without significant assistance and interpretation by others. And most often, events require that we wait, wait for a sign, a nudge, a demonstration, or what we might call an Act of God.

Acts tells us that the disciples returned to an upper room where they had been gathered, along with other believers, where they prayed and waited for the Holy Spirit to come upon them. Perhaps this was a time to work through their grief. Perhaps it was a time for them to be together with one another to discuss and discern the meaning of Jesus’ life and teachings. Or perhaps it was a time of sabbatical, simply for them to rest and recover before they began their ministry to the world. I think that it was probably all three.

This waiting is a part of what theologians call liminal time or space. Limen, the Latin root for this word, means threshold. This was a time when disciples were at a threshold between Jesus’ life and teachings, and their ministry as they went to the “ends of the world” spreading the Gospel.

Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest and spiritual writer says:

Liminal space is an inner state and sometimes an outer situation where we begin to think and act in new ways. It is where we are betwixt and between, in transition, having left one room or stage of life but not yet entered the next. . . .It is a graced time, but often does not feel “graced” in any way. In such space, we are not certain or in control. . . .The very vulnerability and openness of liminal space allows room for something genuinely new to happen.

This is where the disciples found themselves. They returned to Jerusalem, to an upper room, and waited for the Holy Spirit to move them. And we know that soon, they met the Holy Spirit in that unexpected event that we celebrate as Pentecost.

Today, we find ourselves in liminal time and space. The situations around us seem, at times, to be overwhelming. Yet, we must wait. The Church struggles with what its role should be. And, on a more positive note, at the churches of Trinity and St. Mary’s, we find ourselves at new thresholds, as we await Megan’s return from sabbatical, refreshed and renewed, and Deb’s completion of her deacon internship, God willing, and assignment by the bishop to serve in the community. We gather to worship, pray, meditate, and discuss, just as the disciples did. And we wait, wait to see where the Holy Spirit guides, holding our balloons, ready for a launch to see which way the wind is blowing, and contemplate our futures together, at the threshold of new opportunities and challenges, but not in control.

I find that there is something gloriously liberating in the knowledge that this life is a gift of God, a life in which we are not in control, but in which we are privileged to participate, if only we will wait and then move upon the guidance of the Holy Spirit. And I thank God that we are not in control.

Amen