Sunday, May 17, 2026 – Ascension Sunday
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Acts 1:1-11
In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and teach until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized withthe Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But 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.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
It was a warm summer night. My little brother and I were out in the backyard playing, when suddenly, I noticed a very bright light in the sky – much bigger than an ordinary star or planet. We were both transfixed by this shining orb. But then something strange started to happen. The object appeared to grow larger and larger as if it were descending upon us. When it got to be about the size of a baseball to the naked eye, my terrified little brother screamed and ran into the house. But I was either fearless or stupid or hypnotized, because I just stood there transfixed, waiting to see what would happen next.
The object continued to grow until it was about twice as big as it had been before. Then it seemed to stop in its descent. It just hovered there. And then, without warning, it shot across the sky and disappeared over the horizon. Slack-jawed and convinced I had witnessed a real, live U.F.O., I ran into the house to tell my parents what I had seen.
They likely thought I was full of beans, since, as a kid I had a very vivid imagination. But then next day my mother told me that there had been a report on local radio about that strange object in the sky. Apparently, my brother and I were not the only ones to have seen it. Hundreds of people did.
So, what was it? Who knows? What are all these strange objects that people – including pilots and military personnel - continue to see in the sky? Who knows? All I do know is that that event left its mark on me. I have never forgotten it.
And I guess that I have been looking up ever since. To this day, I will stare at the moon and feel strangely drawn by its mysterious pull. I still stare at the stars – mystified by their twinkling fire. And sometimes, I wonder: what am I looking for? What am I longing for? And how am I connected to all of that?
Science says that we are connected to all of that. On YouTube, there is a video entitled: “We Are Stardust.” It’s one of those entertaining compilations of sound bites that have been turned into a coherent piece of music via a computer program. In this video, some famous scientists are talking about how the entire Universe, including us, is made up of the rich guts of exploded stars. In particular, this video has Neil deGrasse Tyson singing over and over again: “We are part of this Universe. We are in this Universe. The Universe itself exists within us.” We are part of this Universe. We are in this Universe. The Universe itself exists within us.” And then the video concludes with this profound statement: “We are stardust in the highest exalted way.”
And maybe that’s why so many of us are taken with the sky. Maybe deep down inside, we know that we are part of all of that. Maybe that’s why we think of God as being up there somewhere; up there where the stars are. Maybe, when we stare into space, we’re just trying to see where we came from.
The lesson from Acts today is about some other folks who saw a strange sign in the heavens that left them looking up. The setting of this story is 40 days after the Resurrection of Jesus. And during those 40 days, the Risen Christ had appeared to his friends on multiple occasions, walking and talking and eating with them. But now that post-resurrection earth-time was about to conclude. And perhaps sensing that, the disciples tried to hold onto him. They pressed the Lord for some very earth-bound details.
“Lord,” they asked, “is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” But that question itself reveals a certain lack of understanding and spiritual maturity. Had they not, with their own ears, heard Jesus say that the Kingdom of God was already inside of them? Had they not understood that they were to participate in building an alternative Reign of God?
Well, Jesus replied by saying that it was not for them to know the details about how or when such things would be concluded. But, he said, they would play a part in it. The Holy Spirit would come upon them. They would be given power to do the works of Jesus to the ends of the earth.
And then, just about the time they wanted to ask some follow-up questions, Jesus was suddenly and without warning lifted up off the earth and disappeared into the clouds.
Well, the disciples were no doubt dumbstruck – eyes up, mouths agape. Luke, the author of the book of Acts, reports that they were left gazing up into the heavens, incredulous. Suddenly, two men in white robes appeared and asked what might be the most superfluous question in all the New Testament: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
Well, where else were they supposed to look? Where else would you look? I would want to see where Jesus went. I might even want to go with him, soaring through the clouds and away from the troubles of the world.
That has always been our temptation – to build our religion primarily in the sky, in the bye and bye, over yonder, up in heaven. But those pesky angels keep sending us back down the mountain. Back to the real world.
And that has been the sermon I have preached on Ascension Sunday, for most of my ministry. I have paid scant attention to what happened in the sky and have stayed focused on life back down the mountain. But it’s a lop-sided interpretation. And without ever meaning to, I have dismissed as secondary the glory of smply staring into space; the spiritual practice of lifting one’s head, of dreaming and hoping for something better. And I have failed to connect the two – the sky-gazing and the earth-dwelling as two sides of the same spiritual life.
And so, I wonder: did Jesus invite his friends up the mountain, into the clouds, precisely because he wanted to them to have that numinous experience as a counterbalance to the hard edges of living in the real world. And maybe that is what we try to emulate each week in this room – a moment of glory and awe and peace and joy before you go back down the mountain and back to the challenges of your life.
This week, I got an urgent text message from an old college friend, asking me to pray. She had just heard that her beloved and historic church building was on fire – one of my worst nightmares about our beloved and historic church building. And so, I did pray… for her, for the congregation, for the firefighters, for the town.
The next morning, I searched the internet for news of that fire. And it was far worse that I had feared. The historic Trinity United Methodist Church in Madison, Indiana had been largely destroyed. Stained glass and pipe organ and walls hallowed by generations of prayer, all gone in a matter of hours. And my friend was numb with grief. And that made me grieve.
Later in the day, I was thinking about all of that, and about the transitory and often painful nature of our lives here on earth. I was lost in those thoughts when rather unconsciously, I looked up into the sky. And there I saw the white flowers of our dogwood against a brilliant blue sky, decorated with puffy cloud. It was just so beautiful that I stopped in my tracks, like that kid who was once transfixed by that shining and mysterious orb. And then, this verse seemed to drop into my consciousness: “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” [1]
And it was a moment of pure glory – glory even in a world where churches burn and innocents suffer and creation groans and power is abused.
So, why do we stand looking up into the heavens? Because we need it… for life back down here on earth.
[1] Psalm 124:8
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Acts 1:1-11
In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and teach until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized withthe Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But 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.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”
It was a warm summer night. My little brother and I were out in the backyard playing, when suddenly, I noticed a very bright light in the sky – much bigger than an ordinary star or planet. We were both transfixed by this shining orb. But then something strange started to happen. The object appeared to grow larger and larger as if it were descending upon us. When it got to be about the size of a baseball to the naked eye, my terrified little brother screamed and ran into the house. But I was either fearless or stupid or hypnotized, because I just stood there transfixed, waiting to see what would happen next.
The object continued to grow until it was about twice as big as it had been before. Then it seemed to stop in its descent. It just hovered there. And then, without warning, it shot across the sky and disappeared over the horizon. Slack-jawed and convinced I had witnessed a real, live U.F.O., I ran into the house to tell my parents what I had seen.
They likely thought I was full of beans, since, as a kid I had a very vivid imagination. But then next day my mother told me that there had been a report on local radio about that strange object in the sky. Apparently, my brother and I were not the only ones to have seen it. Hundreds of people did.
So, what was it? Who knows? What are all these strange objects that people – including pilots and military personnel - continue to see in the sky? Who knows? All I do know is that that event left its mark on me. I have never forgotten it.
And I guess that I have been looking up ever since. To this day, I will stare at the moon and feel strangely drawn by its mysterious pull. I still stare at the stars – mystified by their twinkling fire. And sometimes, I wonder: what am I looking for? What am I longing for? And how am I connected to all of that?
Science says that we are connected to all of that. On YouTube, there is a video entitled: “We Are Stardust.” It’s one of those entertaining compilations of sound bites that have been turned into a coherent piece of music via a computer program. In this video, some famous scientists are talking about how the entire Universe, including us, is made up of the rich guts of exploded stars. In particular, this video has Neil deGrasse Tyson singing over and over again: “We are part of this Universe. We are in this Universe. The Universe itself exists within us.” We are part of this Universe. We are in this Universe. The Universe itself exists within us.” And then the video concludes with this profound statement: “We are stardust in the highest exalted way.”
And maybe that’s why so many of us are taken with the sky. Maybe deep down inside, we know that we are part of all of that. Maybe that’s why we think of God as being up there somewhere; up there where the stars are. Maybe, when we stare into space, we’re just trying to see where we came from.
The lesson from Acts today is about some other folks who saw a strange sign in the heavens that left them looking up. The setting of this story is 40 days after the Resurrection of Jesus. And during those 40 days, the Risen Christ had appeared to his friends on multiple occasions, walking and talking and eating with them. But now that post-resurrection earth-time was about to conclude. And perhaps sensing that, the disciples tried to hold onto him. They pressed the Lord for some very earth-bound details.
“Lord,” they asked, “is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” But that question itself reveals a certain lack of understanding and spiritual maturity. Had they not, with their own ears, heard Jesus say that the Kingdom of God was already inside of them? Had they not understood that they were to participate in building an alternative Reign of God?
Well, Jesus replied by saying that it was not for them to know the details about how or when such things would be concluded. But, he said, they would play a part in it. The Holy Spirit would come upon them. They would be given power to do the works of Jesus to the ends of the earth.
And then, just about the time they wanted to ask some follow-up questions, Jesus was suddenly and without warning lifted up off the earth and disappeared into the clouds.
Well, the disciples were no doubt dumbstruck – eyes up, mouths agape. Luke, the author of the book of Acts, reports that they were left gazing up into the heavens, incredulous. Suddenly, two men in white robes appeared and asked what might be the most superfluous question in all the New Testament: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
Well, where else were they supposed to look? Where else would you look? I would want to see where Jesus went. I might even want to go with him, soaring through the clouds and away from the troubles of the world.
That has always been our temptation – to build our religion primarily in the sky, in the bye and bye, over yonder, up in heaven. But those pesky angels keep sending us back down the mountain. Back to the real world.
And that has been the sermon I have preached on Ascension Sunday, for most of my ministry. I have paid scant attention to what happened in the sky and have stayed focused on life back down the mountain. But it’s a lop-sided interpretation. And without ever meaning to, I have dismissed as secondary the glory of smply staring into space; the spiritual practice of lifting one’s head, of dreaming and hoping for something better. And I have failed to connect the two – the sky-gazing and the earth-dwelling as two sides of the same spiritual life.
And so, I wonder: did Jesus invite his friends up the mountain, into the clouds, precisely because he wanted to them to have that numinous experience as a counterbalance to the hard edges of living in the real world. And maybe that is what we try to emulate each week in this room – a moment of glory and awe and peace and joy before you go back down the mountain and back to the challenges of your life.
This week, I got an urgent text message from an old college friend, asking me to pray. She had just heard that her beloved and historic church building was on fire – one of my worst nightmares about our beloved and historic church building. And so, I did pray… for her, for the congregation, for the firefighters, for the town.
The next morning, I searched the internet for news of that fire. And it was far worse that I had feared. The historic Trinity United Methodist Church in Madison, Indiana had been largely destroyed. Stained glass and pipe organ and walls hallowed by generations of prayer, all gone in a matter of hours. And my friend was numb with grief. And that made me grieve.
Later in the day, I was thinking about all of that, and about the transitory and often painful nature of our lives here on earth. I was lost in those thoughts when rather unconsciously, I looked up into the sky. And there I saw the white flowers of our dogwood against a brilliant blue sky, decorated with puffy cloud. It was just so beautiful that I stopped in my tracks, like that kid who was once transfixed by that shining and mysterious orb. And then, this verse seemed to drop into my consciousness: “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” [1]
And it was a moment of pure glory – glory even in a world where churches burn and innocents suffer and creation groans and power is abused.
So, why do we stand looking up into the heavens? Because we need it… for life back down here on earth.
[1] Psalm 124:8
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