Our Time is Now, Our Place is Here

“Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” (Acts 1:11)

One of the most curious holidays in the Christian year is Ascension Day, also known as the Feast of the Ascension. When I was an administrator and professor at Lancaster Theological Seminary, I was regularly asked to preach Ascension Day sermons at the German Reformed churches in Central Pennsylvania. Coming from the Congregational side of the denomination, I was initially at a loss in terms of topic. Over time, I came to realize that there is wisdom in celebrating Ascension Day. Jesus may no longer be with us, but as the angelic beings counsel, “Don’t fixate on the heavens, the end of the world, or the constantly rescheduled return of Jesus. Don’t focus on self-interest or be consumed about the challenges of again. Jesus is coming again in our lives, and his work is here.”

As senior adults, we often look toward the future with more anxiety than hope. Over the past few years especially, our hope for the future of our nation and the planet has been jeopardized by ego-driven political decisions, the rise of white Christian nationalism, disregard of the environment in favor of profits, and growing division fueled by political rhetoric. We are tempted to opt out of the future and simply focus on aging with grace in quiet communities of like-minded spirits. While few in the UCC expect a divine rescue operation—and many of us have never preached or given much thought to the Second Coming of Jesus—we need to remember, with Jesus’ first followers, that our time is now and our place is here. We may not be waiting for a visible return of Jesus, but we can celebrate a Millisecond Coming of Jesus by being attentive to the needs of our congregations, communities, and nations. Moment by moment, Jesus comes to us in the challenges and wonders of the domestic and political lives we lead.

Our work is here. Although many of us are dealing with less energy than we had in our midlife or youth, we still have a calling. In her seventies, mystic social activist Dorothy Day faced a deteriorating health and could no longer attend protests or be arrested for peaceful civil disobedience. Yet, she took heart as she affirmed, “I can still pray.”  She knew the power of prayer to transform people and nations. She knew that the world was saved one act at a time, and that even small acts like prayer can push forward the moral and spiritual arcs of history in their aim toward justice and beauty.

In the month of Ascension Day and Pentecost, our work is here. We can face finite disappointment, as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King challenges, because we have infinite hope. We can trust that Jesus is coming—the Millisecond Coming—each moment of the day and in every encounter. Even though our hands may be arthritic and our pace may be slower, we are still the hands and feet of God, as Teresa of Avila affirms, and we are also the head and heart of God—able to live empathetically and generously, sharing the wisdom of the years with younger generations.

As I leave my townhouse in Potomac, Maryland for my predawn walk, I affirm, “This is the day that God has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24). Today is the day to expect great things of myself and great things of God as I seize the moment, whether in transporting my grandchildren to practice, fixing coffee for my wife Kate, writing an article or working on a book, calling my representative about a political issue, or picketing and praying. We don’t need to look up or too far ahead. We just need to be here, serving God, loving our neighbors and family, and rejoicing in the wondrous and tragic beauty of life.