A Bigger God
By Griff
Martin
A Sermon on Luke 24:44-53 and Acts
1:1-11
For
The Seventh Sunday of Eastertide- Ascension Sunday on June 2, 2019
To
the Beloveds of First Austin: a baptist community of faith
We
have all been there, some of us more recently than others…
…the first day of Kindergarten. It’s
a big day; everything in life thus far has been preparing you for this day,
this moment. You will walk into a new classroom, a new world, and suddenly this
new world is going to be very important. In fact, you will now spend more of
your waking and active hours in this world. New friends, new things to learn,
new rules, new schedule, new places to explore and you will do it all without
the familiarity of the person or persons who you have thus far spent most of
your time with, and the hard lesson you have to suddenly face: they are not
going with you to Kindergarten.
You
read books about getting ready for Kindergarten – Kindergarten Here I Come
and The Berenstain Bears Go to School. Your preschool teachers have
taught you all about what to expect next year. You have gone to the
Kindergarten Round Up and found your cubby hole and met your teacher. You have
already picked out your first day of school outfit and your new lunch box.
Everything is almost ready for the big first day.
You
have that feeling that you don’t yet have the adult word for – you know that
knot in the pit of your stomach that almost feels like a tummy ache, that
tightness that makes breathing and swallowing hard, that feeling that your mind
is holding back a lot and makes you have trouble falling asleep…? Later you
will learn the horrible word ‘anxiety,’ and you will have a name for this.
And
then it’s the moment of drop off and you have pictured this a million times and
you have one goal: don’t cry. You don’t know why or when, but you have already
fallen for one of the great lies of Western thinking, hide your emotions, and
you feel this is very important. Don’t shed a tear.
You
walk into the classroom and, before you know it, you feel the tears welling up
in your eyes and by instinct alone you reach out for your parent’s hand or arm
or leg and without even thinking it through you are holding on so tight that it
hurts and your knuckles are turning white.
And
then the bell rings and it’s for real; this thing is about to start. And you
hear the good words and the bad words. The good words: “Hey, we love you so
much and we are going to be here to pick you up this afternoon.” Followed by
the bad ones: “but you have to let go now.”
Deep
breath.
I
think this is exactly how the disciples felt, and who can blame them?
Only
instead of just a new classroom, it’s a big new scary world that seems out to
get them, just like it got Jesus, and all they have is this ludicrous message to
give and live: “Love wins and Jesus is victorious and we are supposed to live
like him which looks nothing like the lives we are actually living.” It
was hard enough to do when he was with them, so imagine it now. And in response,
they hold on; they hold on tight. Every minute following the resurrection is
waiting for the next appearance, holding their breath until they can hold him
again.
And
I think Jesus knows it’s going to be this way. I think that is why some of the
first words Jesus utters after the Resurrection to his dear Mary are “Don’t
hold onto me.”
I
think it’s why for the 50 days following Easter we have all these odd
appearances of Jesus that are, frankly, beyond belief. Don’t forget that the
post-resurrection Christ is worlds different than Jesus – truly, other worlds…
he can show up in the midst of a room without using a door, he can appear
beside you on a walk out of town and when you stop to have dinner he can
suddenly vanish as soon as you recognize him, he can disguise himself so that
you don’t even know him and you can look out from a boat and see nothing but
empty shore and then a few minutes later look back one more time and see not
only a figure that was not there before, but a figure with a fire going and
breakfast cooked. Each appearance is a little bit strange, almost containing
those words again, “don’t hold onto me.”
And
then this text we read this morning, the one that ends the Gospel of Luke and
begins the Gospel of Acts, a story that is repeated in what we believe is
probably one work: Luke Acts. We divided up like we did with The Lord of the
Rings movie – it’s one work, not two. And rarely is a story repeated,
except this one.
Luke
ends the Gospel of Jesus with this ascension and begins his Gospel of the
church with the same Ascension. It’s almost like turning on your favorite
program, “Previously, on ER….” This story that is almost absurd, it’s the shark
jump in the Gospels…. Beam Me Up Jesus, Jesus in a Superman pose having just
taken flight, and don’t even get me started with all the awful art that
features Jesus’ feet in the clouds, his hairy toes hanging over the edge (and
even Jesus’ toes are not pleasant to look at). And again, the same message,
a bit more direct this time, “don’t hold onto me, you have work to do.”
“I
love you and I am here, but you have to let go now… it’s time for something
new.”
You
see, Jesus knew what every one of us who have been on the other side of the
first day of Kindergarten, the role of dropping your kids off for the first
time, what we know: this has to happen, because this is how things go, or the
police will come to your door. The natural order of things is that as kids grow,
they get more and more self-sufficient and independent, and that means they go
to school. The goal of parenting is to get them out of the house and learn to
be humans on their own.
And
this is much the work of Jesus, the same order as the disciples grow, they
become more and more self-sufficient (ironically, by becoming more and more
dependent on each other…. God is always paradox), they learn more and more,
they become more and more. The goal of Incarnation is to get them out of the house
and learn to be Jesus on their own.
And
not only that, but also this: Jesus knows that God has more in store for them.
This whole God thing is about to get so much bigger. He has tried to tell them
this, in his words: “I will not leave you as orphans, the Creator will send the
advocate and that Spirit will be with you forever.” Here is the crude
translation I have of that: “For you God created the dance floor, I was sent to
teach you the dance and the music is about to start playing and you will always
have the music.”
And
Jesus knew that if the disciples were going to finally dance, they no longer
needed to be in dance class. So, he knew there needed to be some sort of
goodbye. Again, that first day of school feeling… the bell rings and you find
yourself holding on to a parent’s hand… the disciples find themselves holding
onto Jesus, “When will he next appear to us? What is next for us and Jesus?”
And
what Jesus knows is that the future of his ministry needs the disciples to have
their minds open, hearts open, and cling to nothing but holy imagination. And
to get them to do that, he has to tell them to stop holding on.
And
so, Jesus orchestrates this ridiculous goodbye that is not at all a goodbye.
Some of you know this one, too.
Because
let me tell you, two times now I have been on the other side of that
Kindergarten drop off and I did the whole, “Jude you are going to be fine and
we will be here this afternoon,” and “Blake I love you and I will see you very
soon.” And it might even be harder on this side of it. But here is what I know:
both times, I did not really leave. I found spots where I could watch but they
could not see me, and I’ll say it, I cried both times, and I stood there until
I saw them find their spot on the rug and I knew they were going to be okay.
And
I have to tell you, I believe that is exactly what Jesus does this day. And actually,
even better than simply “I believe it,” I have evidence for it. Because when I
read the book of Acts, I see Jesus everywhere; his presence and peace and love
and model for living are all around us. You see, whoever it is that taught you
to dance, forever you will dance like them and they will be there with you.
So,
I don’t think of the Ascension as the day of absence any more than I think of
the first day of kindergarten as the day I lost my parents or lost my child.
Instead, it’s a day we all grew up a little bit more, exactly like we were
supposed to do. It’s a day we were reminded of what we were supposed to become,
and it happened under watchful eyes that we did not even know were watching.
“I
love you and I am here, but you have to let go now… it’s time for something
new.”
And
church, that is the same message we get this day. So, imagine whatever you
must: Jesus as a rocket ship, Jesus toes hanging off the edge of a cloud or
even Jesus just beyond the edge of the picture.
Imagine
whatever that looks like for you, and know this:
Jesus
loves us. Jesus is here for us. Jesus has never and will never leave us. Jesus
has given us the example and now he is waiting, watching just out of our
eyesight for us to go and live it.
We
have the dance floor; we have had our dancing lessons and the music is now
playing. It’s time to dance, and dance knowing Jesus is watching and cheering us
on, much closer than we can ever imagine.
Amen
and amen.
*artwork: Revolting Beauty, Print by Jim LePage, jimlepage.com
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