Not Comfortable and Not Comfortless

The Sunday between Ascension and Pentecost gives us much to ponder as the Church

Acts 1:6-14

Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

John 17:1-11

© 2026 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached on the Seventh Sunday of Easter at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. You may watch a video of it here.

Holy God, may my words be your words, and when they are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

There is a strange little season in the life of the Church that we do not always know what to do with. It is the space between Ascension and Pentecost.

Jesus has been raised from the dead. He has appeared to the disciples, taught them, blessed them, and opened their minds to understand the Scriptures. And then, as Acts tells us, Jesus is lifted up, and a cloud takes him out of their sight.

But Pentecost has not happened yet. The Spirit has not rushed through the house. The disciples have not yet poured into the streets proclaiming the mighty acts of God. They are not where they were, but they are not yet where they are going. They are in-between.

And maybe that is why this Sunday feels so honest. Because so much of life is lived there: between one season ending and another beginning, between what we know and what we cannot yet see.

And today, on Senior Recognition Sunday, that in-between space is not just liturgical. It is personal.

Our seniors are standing in a threshold season. They are finishing one chapter of life and preparing for another. Some in the Class of 2026 will go to college, some will begin work, and some will take a different path. Some may feel excited, others anxious, and most probably feel a bit of both.

And they are stepping into a world that many of us do not quite know how to explain. It is a world of beauty, possibility, creativity, connection, and service. But it is also a world heavy with uncertainty: political division, war, anxiety, climate change, displacement, racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, white supremacy, and bigotry of all kinds. A world where people are often sorted into camps before they are seen as human beings. So the temptations for us are real.

One temptation is to say nothing: to proclaim a Gospel untouched by the actual wounds of the world. But that is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Another temptation is to turn the Gospel into a weapon: to confuse the Kingdom of God with whichever political tribe makes us feel safest, angriest, or most righteous. But that is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ either.The Gospel gives us a harder and holier way: not silence, not partisan captivity, but faithful witness. 

And that is exactly where Acts meets us today. The disciples ask Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” It is a very human question. Is now the time? Are you finally going to fix it? Are you finally going to make everything right? Can we please have the timeline?

Jesus does not shame them for asking, but he does not give them control either. He says, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.” But then he says, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses.”

You do not get control, but you do get the Spirit. You do not get the whole timeline, but you do get a calling. That is the life of the Church.

And, dear seniors, that is not a bad word for you either…

You do not have to know your whole life right now. You do not have to see the entire map. You do not have to solve the world by age eighteen. You do not have to become impressive enough to justify all the love that has been poured into you.

You are not loved because you are impressive. You are loved because you are beloved. And the calling of your life is not first to be successful, polished, productive, and certain. The calling of your life is to receive the love of God, become more fully the person God created you to be, and bear witness to the love of Christ wherever you go. In short, your call is to live faithfully in response to Our God who is always faithfully with us.

That witness may look like kindness when someone feels alone. It may look like telling the truth when others laugh at cruelty. It may look like caring for creation, making art, studying, serving, building friendships, or practicing quiet faithfulness. The Spirit does not make all of us the same—the Spirit makes all of us witnesses.

And notice what the disciples do after Jesus ascends. No post-Ascension marketing roll-out, no doomscrolling the Roman Empire, and no wildly popular initial public offering. Instead, they return to Jerusalem, go upstairs, and devote themselves constantly to prayer.

That is not avoidance. It is preparation. 

Prayer is not the opposite of action. Prayer is how the Church remembers who we are before we act. Prayer is where we lay down our panic long enough to receive courage. Prayer is where we remember that Caesar is not Lord, fear is not Lord, the market is not Lord, the empire is not Lord, the algorithm is not Lord, and the loudest voice in the room is not Lord.

Jesus is Lord.

And in John’s Gospel lesson, we hear something beautiful: Jesus prays for his disciples. Jesus knows what is coming. He knows they will be confused and afraid. He knows they will deny, doubt, and scatter. And still, Jesus prays for them.

He does not pray for them because they are strong, but because they are his. He prays, “Holy Father, protect them in your name… so that they may be one, as we are one.” Jesus does not pray that they will be popular, win every argument, or escape all suffering. Jesus prays that they will be protected in God’s name and that they will be one.

That matters now to us in the Church, because we often confuse unity with agreement. But Jesus does not pray that his disciples will have identical opinions, politics, temperaments, backgrounds, gifts, or preferences.

He prays that they will be one in love—Christ’s self-giving love.

The kind of love that can tell the truth without contempt. The kind of love that can name injustice without hatred. The kind of love that can resist evil without becoming evil. The kind of love that can face a fractured world without giving in to despair.

That is the unity Jesus prays for. And the good news is that Jesus still prays for his own. Jesus prays for our seniors. Jesus prays for this parish. Jesus prays for every beloved child of God trying to live faithfully in an anxious age. 

And then, through the Spirit, Jesus sends us. So, seniors, as you go from this place into whatever comes next, remember this:

You are not alone. You are not your résumé, your GPA, or your college decision. You are not your anxiety, your worst decision, or the future you cannot yet see. You are beloved of God.

And you have a witness to bear now. You are not the Church of the future. You are the Church now. And the rest of us need your questions, your courage, your honesty, your dreams for a more merciful world, and your hope.

And to the rest of us: our calling is not simply to recognize these seniors and send them off with polite applause. Our calling is to bless them, support them, listen to them, pray for them, and learn from them. Because the Spirit’s presence has no minimum age.

So maybe today, the word for all of us is this: Stop staring anxiously into the sky. Not because heaven does not matter, but because Christ has given us work to do here on earth.

Pray deeply. Wait faithfully. Love boldly. Tell the truth gently. Protect the vulnerable. Resist despair. Cast your anxiety on God. Bear witness to Christ.

The world is uncertain, as it was for the disciples too. But Jesus prayed for them. Then came the Spirit. And the Good News moved through those prayerful ones.

May it be so with us. May it be so with these seniors. May it be so with the Church. Amen.

No Islands

Last night while I was talking with one of my best friends, he interrupted me to say that there had been an explosion at a concert in Manchester, England. Sorrow filled my heart. While 4,137 miles stand between Decatur and that town in Northwest England, I could not help but feel immediately close to the victims of this latest terrorist attack and their families who grieve at this very moment. Maybe feeling such a connection to strangers stands out as odd, but the immortal words of John Donne ring in my ears nonetheless: “Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”[1] We are not isolated individuals, for we are united as a whole and when one is lost sorrow fills the collective heart.

In John’s telling of the story there were moments when from the disciples’ point of view everything appeared lost, disconnected, and sorrowful. On that last night before their teacher would die, Jesus told his followers he was leaving. The disciples got stuck in sadness. Jesus responded with bewilderment, as they were focused solely on the loss and not on where he was going; however, they were stuck. Sorrow had filled their hearts.

We too may feel this as we look out upon the death and destructions that human beings enact upon each other. Just like the disciples we are focused on what is not here, as we believe that we are alone and without God. All signs appear to point to this answer that as the world burns with terror God exists outside of this existence waiting and watching our fearful flailing.

In just two days we will remember the Ascension, the story in Luke’s Gospel account when Jesus left his disciples to reign eternally with the Father. For a few days the Spirit does not descend. The disciples do not feel the impact of the Spirit until that day of Pentecost. We during that time may recall a feeling of loneliness thinking of life without God. For some people this moment does not pass like a morning fog, but instead engulfs them for much longer. Fear, anger, violence, war, and other malicious forces cloud out the realization that the Advocate comes. These terrible powers may even cause one to believe that one stands alone, as an island unto oneself. And yet, this is not the truth!

Jesus leaves so that he Advocate will come to be with us, uniting us forever. We struggle to catch glimpses of this presence, especially in tragic moments; however, I know that when I am at my worst that is the very moment when I can most easily feel this Advocate stirring within me, between others and me, and linking me to that which lies beyond my understanding.

Psalm 138, which we recited together today, calls to mind those moments when we may have moved through a terribly difficult time, and as we look back we see the connections to each other and to God. “When I called, you answered me” the Psalmist cries, and elsewhere, “Though the Lord be high, he cares for the lowly… Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you keep me safe.” When terror seems to close in all around we may struggle to feel this safety, but even then God draws us near through the power of the Advocate.

God loves us more immensely than we will ever know. God shields us as we walk with God. This shield does not prevent us from the pains of this world, and in fact, God may very well call us into dangerous positions to care for the vulnerable and share the Good News with the outcasts and the unloved. Still those whom God loves—that is ALL OF US—can never exist outside the eternal embrace of God’s love! Though God is transcendent, he cares for the lowly. Though we walk through trouble, God keeps us eternally safe. Though our hearts may be filled with sorrow, God sends to us the Advocate who draws us ever nearer to one another and to Godself!

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[1] John Donne, Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII: Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris: Public domain. 

The Hour Has Come

This coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson begins with Jesus looking up to heaven while saying, “Father, the hour has come.” The rest of the passage contains so much theological meat worth chewing on the rest of the week, but the opening bit has arrested me this Monday. As Jesus brings to culmination his “Farewell Discourse” in which he urges his disciples to continue in his mission, he looks up to heaven and speaks so personally to the Father that this speech gives us a glimpse into the Divine Life of the Trinity.

Getting our timing correct stands out as a monumentally difficult task for human beings. A moment earlier or later could change the course of history or at least one’s life. The movie Sliding Doors depicts this perfectly. I do not want to spoil the plot, but suffice it to say that the lead character played by Gwyneth Paltrow portrays two different story lines that diverge from either making or missing a train home. By making it through the sliding doors or being stopped by them her life changes. This could easily happen to any one of us too. What about the life of the Trinity though? Is God confined by this sense of timing?

Often religious leaders like myself will unleash a theological statement along these lines: “God exists outside of time.” When we sit still long enough to contemplate what this means we may need some Advil, especially when we consider how this thought pertains to the Son. As the person of Jesus entered into a particular time and place in the course of time and space and history, we may then wonder how one can say, “God exists outside of time”? The divinity and humanity of Christ Jesus exist inseparably, which complicates the matter all the more. How can a human being exist outside of time? God muddles this even more as we arrive at the Ascension (only in Luke's telling of the Gospel) when Jesus ascended to reign at the right hand of the Father, which we celebrate this Thursday. How could Jesus’ physically ascend into heaven?

Wondering about these particulars and how they happened can trip up even the most ardent follower. So what do we do? Do we stop with the intense questions? Do we just believe without reconciling our Holy Scripture with what science says? Scrutinizing the details, as we pursue the Truth by all means necessary certainly makes the curious learner within me happy; however, in this intimate moment that Jesus shared with the Father it may be too much to try to construct an entire theology of the Trinity based on one sentence within one account of the Good News of Christ Jesus. Said alternatively, we would do well to survey the entirety of Holy Scripture, the writings of Church Mothers and Fathers, contemporary theologians, our own experience, and reason before we haphazardly throw out bathwater or babies as they pertain to the life of the Trinity.

At the same time we must be willing to lean into the hard conversations, namely that there are contradictions within our Faith. If we can make sense of these inconsistencies by looking at the overarching scope and trajectory of the Good News, then our Faith will be made stronger; however, as Jesus looked up into heaven acknowledging the closeness of his relationship with the Father, we must also recognize that inside of that intimate relationship exists a type of logic that may not make much sense outside of it. The Father, Son, and Spirit have known each other forever—and I am not writing this in a hyperbolic sense, as they have been eternally in relationship with one another. The timing of God’s ways are perfect beyond our knowing. The actions of God’s works of salvation do not compute within our feeble understanding. The meaning of the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ Jesus cannot be explained in a way that makes sense to all. While we must struggle to get our theology tight and precise, what matters eternally is knowing God.

While I may be stuck on its first words, the crux of this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson does not rest in Jesus looking up to heaven and speaking of the hour coming, but rather in the profound and perplexing prayer that was overheard by the disciples. To God the Father Jesus uttered, “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” We will not fully understand God on this side of the grave. And, as frustrating as that is, it is okay. For our lifelong pursuit of knowledge truly only requires us to know one thing. We must spend our lives knowing the only true God who was fully expressed in Jesus Christ whom God sent, only then can we know anything about this God that is worth sharing with others.

ASCEND!

This blog post is based on this reading from Luke, not the above picture (from a Scandinavian website)

I have a hard to explaining the Ascension to other people. Our rationally based culture makes it hard for me to just say, "Come on it's in the BIBLE!" To see just how poorly the Ascension is viewed in contemporary culture, just look at the popular TV series The Office. In a great episode entitled "Secret Santa," Michael Scott, says to his employees, “His last name is Christ, He has the power of flight,” alluding to Jesus’s last day on earth. If we attempt to be rational Christians we have a hard time holding at the same time a belief in scientific laws, like the Law of Gravity, and a belief in Jesus’ miracles, like flying away from his disciples.

Yet, to read a sacred text, like the Bible, with only a literal lens limits the spiritual impact that any story can have upon us. This is not to say suspend all questions, but rather to suggest that the story of the Ascension is more than a precursor to the Superman comic strip. Our gospel text from today possesses a powerful piece of our understanding of God and our relationship with God, and yet we are left with questions. What happens after Jesus is raised from the dead? He cannot die again, so does he just sit around until the end of the age? Can he fly? Where did he go? I do not have sufficient answers to these questions, yet I feel in the wake of the Ascension that I am floating in the Truth. He who has been raised from the dead will never die again, he who has been raised from the dead continues to bless us, and he who has been raised from the dead has returned to the Father. Yet it is even more encompassing than this. Let me tell you another version of the Ascension from our sisters and brothers in the Eastern Orthodox Church.

In the countryside of Bethany, a boy was walking his dog, Spot. Well, the dog’s full name was Spoticus, a slight jab at the Roman occupiers of his day, but the boy just called him Spot in public. As the boy and his dog walked along the countryside the boy saw in the distance a small crowd gathered. They were raising a bit of a raucous, so the boy went to investigate it further. He approached with caution, and soon discovered it was Jesus and his followers.

The boy had heard of Jesus from some people in his town. Martha, Mary, and the once dead Lazarus told stories about this powerful, healing, teaching prophet. Recently, they even said he was more than a prophet. The boy overheard his parents arguing about whether Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah. “He died and returned from the dead,” his mother said in a hushed voice, but his father cut her off as the boy entered the room. So more curious than usual the boy walked closer to hear Jesus speaking to his followers, but he could not understand what the teacher was saying.

This crowd grew closer together as Jesus raised his arms up into the air. Jesus then began blessing them with tears washing down his face. As he was blessing them he withdrew from them and he was being carried up into heaven. Yet, at that moment something strange happened. One man looked around at the others in the crowd, then he wrapped his arms around Jesus’ ankles. Fellow disciples began shouting, “Peter, what are you doing?”

Peter looked up at Jesus, then he said, “Jesus where you go, I must go also.” Jesus, almost surprised by this action, gave Peter a look, as if to say, “Please let go,” but Peter did not get the message. Then, Jesus looked up to Heaven, saying, “Father, what shall I do?” A voice from on high spoke, “ASCEND!”

At that moment, two men began jostling for position. The similar shape of their faces made it seem to the boy that the two were brothers. As they were pushing each other, one grabbed onto Peter’s ankles, the other shouted, “John, I am supposed to go first, not you.” John replied, “James, I am the greatest.” James and John jockeyed for position, then others hopped onto the chain. Before too long it was a long link of disciples. Martha, Mary, and a limping Lazarus connected to this heaven bound train. Jesus kept asking the Father what he was to do, and the Father each time replied with the same word, “Ascend!”

All the while Spot and his boy were walking closer to this action. Spot was barking and the boy did his best to keep his jaw from dropping. After the crowd thinned out a little, the boy asked a woman if she was going to join this line. The woman, who was actually Mary Magdalene, calmly replied, “I think so, what about you?” Well, I have my dog.

Just then a man thought about jumping up to join the heaven bound procession, but then he looked doubtful that he could make the jump to reach Andrew’s ankles. “Thomas, you better hurry,” Mary spoke.

The boy tied up his dog to a nearby tree, hugged him goodbye, and he began to run and jump after Mary who was now leaving the earth behind her. Mary asked, “What about your dog?” The boy quickly questioned, “Can I bring him?” Jesus looked down, then up toward heaven, and the voice again shouted from on high, “Ascend!”

As Mary was pulling him off the ground the boy ran back toward the tree and with no time to untie the dog he grabbed Spot with one hand and held onto Mary’s foot with the other. The train began to pull out of the station with Jesus as the engine. His toes no longer touching earth, the boy left the ground, Spot was pulled up with him, the leash held the dog tightly to the tree, and for a moment it seemed like this holy chain would just dangle in the air. Then, all at once the ground shook and the earth quaked and this Jesus-led string of saints pulled the entirety of Creation from its hinges. Everything from the tree down (the roots, the dirt, the entire earth and all that was in it) stayed connected to that dog and that dog was held fast by that boy and the boy stayed attached to those disciples and those disciples stuck to Jesus and Jesus remained connected to God the Father, so that all of Creation was pulled into Heaven with the command from on high, “Ascend!”

Ascension is not a story about Jesus flying. It is not a story about magic or superpowers. This is the day that we celebrate that Jesus who overcame the power of death, will never die again, and that as he left Jesus was blessing his disciples. Jesus’ blessing never stopped in the story from Luke, and his blessings have never stopped since then. We are still being blessed by the Son who came down to live with us, to die for us, to raise us from the dead and to raise us with all Creation into Heaven. Ascension is a day when we remember that through Christ earth and Heaven are one. Now let us, like those disciples return to our lives with joy, let us bless God continually in our church, and let us wait patiently for the gift of God’s Spirit! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.