"Waiting for the Power"
Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-14
In churches that
follow the liturgical calendar, we’re coming to the end of Eastertide, the
season when we focus on celebrating the Resurrection. The third major festival of the Christian
year, the celebration of the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, comes next
Sunday. Before we get to Pentecost, we
celebrate the Ascension, and we hear the part of the story that Luke/Acts
places between Easter and Pentecost.
One part of the story is that Jesus
has ascended to glory with God. The
glory of the risen and ascended Christ is good news-- something to celebrate.
But the other themes in the story
invite us to look at the Ascension from a very human perspective, the
disciples’ point of view, which is where we stand.
Up until now, Jesus has been the
chief actor in the gospel drama.
From his birth to his death, it’s Jesus who keeps the story moving.
In
the forty days following the resurrection, the risen Jesus appeared to his
followers a number of times and continued to teach them about the kingdom of
God.
But they were still living under
Roman occupation. There were still people who were poor and hungry and
marginalized. Things were still not right in the world. So, when Jesus told his followers to wait in
Jerusalem, where they would be baptized by the Holy Spirit, they asked, “Lord,
is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?”
Jesus answered, “It isn’t for you to know
these things. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon
you, and you will be my witnesses.” Then they saw Jesus lifted up, and a cloud,
which the Bible uses as a symbol of God’s presence--lifted Jesus out of their
sight. And now he’s gone from their sight.
When Jesus was
carried up into heaven, the reality they were facing was that Jesus was no
longer a part of their daily life, in the same way he had been before.
Now what? What are Jesus’ followers supposed to do? It would have been hard not to feel
anxious and impatient—just as it can be for us.
There’s so much bad news in the
world-- so much fear and anxiety and hatred. Since earlier this past week, our hearts are heavy with the news of precious lives
lost: mostly young concert-goers in Manchester, England and a promising young
college graduate in Maryland, stabbed to death by a white supremacist.
In the 24-hour news cycle, we
haven’t been hearing much about refugees in the past few months, but a few days
ago we heard that more than 30 perished when an overcrowded boat listed while
trying to reach Europe from North Africa, and that most of the bodies recovered
were toddlers.
An 18-year-old former neo-Nazi /
white supremacist converted to Islam and murdered two of his white supremacist
roommates and told the police he killed them because they didn’t respect his
Muslim faith.
We heard about an attack on a
caravan of Coptic Christian pilgrims heading to a monastery in Minya, Egypt
that killed 28 people. Friday two men
were killed and another injured when they stepped in to protect 2 women from a
man who was shouting ethnic and anti-Muslim slurs at them. This man, too, turned out to be a white
supremacist.
In our nation’s South, there are conflicts over removing statues
that celebrate leaders of the Confederacy. Closer to home, we have a
controversy over what place a statue of former Dearborn mayor Orville Hubbard
should have.
Concerns have been raised in local
cities about justice and due process in detentions deportations of undocumented
immigrants and the impact of current policies on their families.
In our nation’s capital, politicians
are debating matters that include who deserves to have enough to eat and
adequate, affordable medical coverage, how we will care for the environment,
and much more. The litany of losses and pain and struggle is long.
Do you want to just shout, “How
long, Lord?” “Is this the time you’re
going to make things right in the world?
We want to know what the plan is. We want to know now.
Lord, is this the time?
Hear what Jesus says: “It is not for
you to know the times or periods that the Father has set byfor some time for reflection,
whether at home or away. It can be an opportunity for us to renew our sense of
gratitude for those who have served their country and for the freedoms we enjoy
because of that service and sacrifice. It can also be a time for us to renew
our sense of commitment to wohis own
authority.” It is not for us to know
all the details of the big plan.
Christ’s charge to them comes with a
promise: “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit... 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.”
Luke tells us that the disciples
worshipped the risen and ascended Christ.
They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in
the temple blessing God.
In the verses following the passage
we read in Acts, Luke tells how the disciples returned to Jerusalem and went to
the upper room where they were staying, where they and certain women were
constantly devoting themselves to prayer.
On the day of Pentecost, disciples were gathered together in one place
when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon them from on high.
The first disciples were called to
wait during times of transition--with trust and hope…with eagerness and
expectancy.
This Memorial Day long weekend will
bring a variety of parades and other celebrations and
rking for a world that is more just and peaceful.
When the first disciples couldn’t see where the future
would lead them, when they couldn’t see where the future would lead them, they
remained focused on the drama of God’s salvation story, and worshiped God with
great joy. Their joyful worship as they
waited helped to center themselves in God’s gracious, powerful promises
Do we believe God can use us to
transform the world? Do we believe that
we can do all things, through Christ, who strengthens us? How many of us want to believe these
things?
I believe
God has the power to work miracles, and that God wants to use us to change
people’s lives. But it is not in God’s
nature to coerce us. We have
choices.
In his book, God’s Politics,
which a group of us read together some years ago, Jim Wallis talks about
“The Critical Choice: Hope Versus
Cynicism.”[1]
Wallis
says that one of the big struggles of our times is the fundamental choice
between cynicism and hope. The prophets
always begin in judgment, in a social critique of the status quo, but they end
in hope—that these realities can and will be changed. This choice between cynicism and hope is
ultimately a spiritual choice—one that has enormous political
consequences. He argues for a better
religion-- a prophetic faith—the
religion of Jesus and the prophets.
As
Wallis says, cynicism can protect you from seeming foolish to believe that
things could and will change. It
protects you from disappointment. It
protects you from insecurity, because now you are free to pursue your own
security instead of sacrificing it for a social engagement, if you decide that
it won’t work anyway.
Ultimately, cynicism protects you
from commitment. If things aren’t really
going to change, why try so hard to make a difference?... Why take the risks,
make the sacrifices, open yourself to the vulnerabilities? Cynics are finally free just to look after
themselves… and pursue their own agendas.
According
to Wallis, the difference between the cynics and the saints is the presence,
power, and possibility of hope. And that
is indeed a spiritual and faith issue.
More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even a religious choice.
I agree with Wallis when he says
that hope is not a feeling. It is a
decision. And the decision for hope is
based on what you believe at the deepest levels—what your most basic
convictions about the world and what the future holds-- all based on your faith.
We
can choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open
to the reality of the world. I believe
this hope is grounded in faith…and nurtured in our worship life.
The
Civil Rights movement in the United States grew out of the African-American
church… and then others joined in—people who chose to hope in a society in
which there is justice for all. We’re still waiting and hoping for the
fulfillment of that dream.
During
the days of Apartheid in South Africa, Archbishop
Emeritus Desmond Tutu used to say, “We are prisoners of hope.”
I know I’ve shared this story with
you before, but it’s powerful and inspiring.
During Apartheid, the South African Security Police came into the Cathedral of St. George’s during
Tutu’s sermon at an ecumenical service.
Tutu stopped preaching and just
looked at the intruders as they lined the walls of the cathedral, wielding
writing pads and tape recorders to record whatever he said and thereby threatening him with
consequences for any bold prophetic utterances.
They had already arrested Tutu and
other church leaders just a few weeks before and kept them in jail for several
days to make a statement and a point:
religious leaders who take on leadership roles in the struggle against
apartheid would be treated like any other opponents of the Pretoria regime.
After meeting their eyes with his in
a steely gaze, Tutu acknowledged their power, saying, “You are powerful, very powerful.” But then he reminded them that he served a
higher power greater than their political authority: “I serve a God who cannot be mocked!”
Then in an extraordinary challenge
to political tyranny, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South
African apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and
join the winning side!” He said it with
a smile on his face and enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity
and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away.
The congregation’s response was
electric. The crowd was literally
transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power.
The heavily armed security forces that surrounded the cathedral and
greatly outnumbered the band of worshipers.
Yet the congregation was moved—empowered—to literally leap to their
feet, shouting the praises of God. They began dancing. They danced out of the cathedral to meet the
awaiting police and military forces of apartheid, who hardly expected a
confrontation with dancing worshipers. Not
knowing what else to do, they backed up to provide the space for the people of
faith to dance for freedom in the streets of South Africa.
Some time later, a few days before
Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as President of South Africa, Wallis remembers
wondering, “Who would have ever believed?
And that’s just the point, he says.
We have to believe.
I
know… I know… What we see going on in our nation and in
the world seems overwhelming.
And yet, we are called. Christ has given us a Great Commission: You shall be my witnesses.
We have Christ’s promise: You will receive power…
Like the first disciples, we have
the promises of God to cling to, even in times of sorrow and anxiety. These promises are ours, even at times when
it seems that Christ has vanished and the Holy Spirit is not breathing down our
necks or in our lives.[2][1]
So let us cling to God’s promises
and rejoice in them. There will be accomplishments and setbacks, joys and
sorrows. In the midst of it, we can trust that God is with us, comforting, celebrating
with us, accompanying and strengthening us, even when we can’t see it. We can
give thanks that God is preparing us to live with less fear and more
generosity, preparing us to look out for the rights of others, and to work for
a more merciful and just world.
Thanks be to God!
[1] Jim
Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right
Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It.”
HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.
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