Ascension of the Lord
Acts 1:1–11; Ephesians 1:17–23; Matthew 28:16–20
It begins on a mountain in Galilee.
The eleven are there.
They have come far with Jesus. They have heard him. Followed him. Failed him. Seen him risen.
Now they stand before him once more.
And Matthew tells us something very honest:
Some worshipped. But some still doubted.
That is where the Ascension begins.
Not with perfect heroes. Not with fearless saints. But with disciples who are still mixed inside— faith and hesitation, worship and weakness, love and uncertainty.
And to them, Jesus gives the great command:
Go. Go and make disciples of all nations.
Not stay. Not hide. Not build a little circle around your memories of me.
Go.
Go beyond Galilee. Go beyond what is familiar. Go beyond one people, one place, one language.
And then that astonishing promise:
I am with you always, until the end of the age.
That is how the story begins.
With a sending. With a mission. With a promise.
Then Acts takes us to the next movement.
Now the Lord is lifted up.
A cloud takes him from their sight.
And the disciples stand there looking up into heaven.
Who would not?
If someone you love, someone who changed your life, someone who conquered death itself, was taken from your sight, would you not keep staring too?
But then come the angels:
Why are you standing there looking up?
That is not a rebuke only. It is a turning.
Do not cling to what you can no longer hold. Do not stay fixed on the sky. Do not confuse devotion with delay.
He has not left you so that you may become a people of nostalgia.
He has sent you so that you may become a people of witness.
So the story moves:
From the mountain of command, to the cloud of departure, to the road that now lies open before the Church.
And yet this raises the deepest question of all:
If he is gone, how can he still be with us?
That is where Ephesians begins to sing.
Saint Paul does not describe the scene. He gives us its meaning.
The Father has raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavens, far above every principality, authority, power, and dominion.
This is not simply about place. It is about lordship.
The one who was crucified now reigns. The one who was rejected is now above every power that boasts itself great. The one who walked the dusty roads of Galilee now fills all things.
And then comes the final wonder:
this exalted Christ has been given to the Church as head.
So no— the Ascension is not the story of Jesus leaving and the Church being left behind.
It is the story of Jesus passing from visible presence to universal lordship.
Gone from sight, never from the Church.
No longer held in one land, one road, one physical place.
Now present to his people everywhere.
That is why the Church can go.
Because the one who says “Go” in Matthew, the one who is lifted up in Acts, is the same one whom Ephesians shows reigning above all things and filling his body - the Church - with life.
Our feet remain here. Our mission remains here. Our struggles remain here.
But our Lord is already enthroned.
And because he reigns, we do not go alone.
We go under his lordship. We go with his promise. We go as his body.
Gone from sight— yes.
Never from the Church— never.
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Content License
© 2025 Krakus.
Licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0 (Creative Commons Attribution–NonCommercial).