Acts 1:1-14 - April 7, 2024

Last Sunday was fun, right?

In pretty much every worship service - whether you were here with us or elsewhere - there was a little something extra. There were handbells and processions and brass and timpani and people galore. Doing that kind of stuff is fun. And all the extra is good! It’s a celebration, after all. Christ is risen from the dead! Alleluia! God changed everything with that empty tomb. And now, of course, we are glad for things to go back to the way they were. 

We can once again get back into our own pew without having to fight off so many visitors. We can more easily find parking. We don’t have to remember any special service times. We can fall back into our church routine - comfortable and normal. 

But they aren’t quite as normal as we thought. 

On this second Sunday of Easter, there are certain expectations we have - like reading a familiar resurrection appearance from one of the Gospels - doubt-filled or not.
That we’d migrate back to our regular kneeling for confession at the beginning - how come we’re not confessing?
That there might some extra flowers, but everything else would be just like it was. 

But instead, today things go back to normal, but they aren’t the same. 

Which is probably how the disciples felt, too. After one crazy event after another, things were finally getting back to normal. Jesus is with them, talking and teaching, eating and encouraging. He is here! “Is this the time when you will establish the kingdom?” All of it - even the foolish questions - make it feel just like the good ol’ days. Normal. 

But things, somehow, aren’t the same. The disciples are told to wait - wait here, wait for the promise, wait for what God is yet to do. What more could God do? And that “not the same-ness” was further emphasized by Jesus being lifted up - leaving once again! The disciples are left in this pre-Pentecost moment, with only a promise of the Spirit to come. And they - and probably us, too - think, “How is Jesus going away better?” 

That’s a pretty good question, isn’t it? We would think that having Jesus around would be best for us, for the world, for everything. But God chose a different way. How does Jesus ascending - not doing the normal thing by staying with us - how does that improve things? 

Well… first, it double confirms for us that Jesus is Lord. Not just “chosen” or “special,” but Lord of earth and heaven, of death and life. And because of that, things are not the same. 

This is the same Jesus who, while on earth, lived out God’s will, welcomed sinners, suffered and died, and was flat-out rejected by this world. All the powers that be - including death - did their very best to stop him and stop God. And they failed. Not only is Jesus alive, but he is raised as the ascended Lord. 

And since Jesus is Lord -  no one and no thing else is. Not Caesar or our politicians, not fear or war or principalities, not categories or names or boxes we are put in. Not death either. Nothing that stakes any claim on our life or livelihood will stand in light of who Jesus is. 

We live in this world where things are normal, but not the same.

And we don’t live by standing and staring at where Jesus used to be. Because Jesus is risen, alive, and ascended, we continue to encounter Jesus through hearing the Word, through fellowship in the church, in ministry to the poor and marginalized, and in the sacraments.

Which is why for the season of Easter, we are shifting from our normal Confession to a Thanksgiving for Baptism. Of all the times in the Church Year, Easter is when we should be giving thanks the most for what God has done for us - visibly, tangibly seen and felt in those waters of baptism. Because of the unfailing nature of God’s promise, and because of God’s once-and-for-all action in Christ, we give thanks! 

We return to those waters, remembering that we are redeemed children of God,
that we receive forgiveness,
that our whole lives revolve around what God has done.
So much of our worship life is simply returning to God’s baptismal covenant in which our ascended Lord is present. We give thanks that we are daily raised up to new life because of baptism. 

And then, in the communion meal, we receive the true presence of the living Christ, knowing that death no longer has dominion over him. Jesus nourishes our faith and forgives our sin. Our spirit is fed at Jesus’ table, where we’re all invited, where the table spans to all times and all places. 

And now, look, our altar is in a different spot. Last week, it was practical; we made room for extra musicians. But it’s still there - for still, a little bit of practicality. As we anticipate the building renovations, this is very close to the height of the altar after we flip things around. Practically, it helps us get a sense of sightlines and a general feel for the liturgy being led from this level.

But theologically, with sacrament and Easter resurrection in mind - Christ isn’t far away. Christ is alive, present, close. He is not behind some gate, but here in the midst of us. The symbolic way that the meal moves in front of any barriers can give us something new to embrace this season of Easter. 

These are some practical, even theological changes for a season. 

But to go a little deeper than liturgy changes and moving of some furniture… in life, we often encounter changes that become our new normal, whether we welcome them or not. These changes are a departure from what we once knew, leading us into unfamiliar territories of loss, illness, or heartache. After death, after illness, after relationships end, things can go back to “normal,” but they aren’t the same. 

While it may seem that Jesus has departed from the disciples and us, leaving us alone in a new normal, it is quite the opposite. Because of God’s work through the sacraments, because Jesus is raised from the dead, because Jesus is ascended to the Father as our risen Lord, we know Christ is present with us, even when and where it doesn’t seem like Jesus could be - even when a new normal is forced upon us.

Ultimately, because of Jesus, we trust that none of the other departures we experience in our lives - be they departures of relationships, departures of health, the departure of life itself - none of it means a departure of God’s promise and love. Because Christ is alive, alleluia!

We have the promise of a love that is stronger than death, stronger than anything that happens. It is the promise of an empty tomb. It is the promise of an ascended Lord. It is the promise of water and Word, bread and wine. The promise that God’s love in Jesus Christ will not depart from us, ever. 

And with those promises comes yet another: the gift of the Spirit. For this, at least in our passage today, we must wait. Yet, the disciples don’t really want to. They want the kingdom now. But, as in most cases, be careful what you wish for. Because God isn’t making things the same, like in the good ol’ days. Instead, the Spirit leads the disciples to a place where they will be light for the whole world, to be witnesses to the ends of the earth. They are to continue what Jesus started.

And we, washed with the promise of daily dying and rising;
we, fed and nourished at the table of Jesus;
we, given the gift of the Spirit;
we, who have Jesus as Lord;
we are not called to wait for an old-style kingdom to be restored, but instead, we are sent to live out God’s mission to redeem all nations, to take the Good News of Jesus to the ends of the earth. We continue what Jesus started. Because, alleluia, Christ is risen! 

On this, the second Sunday of Easter, we are tempted to let things simply go back to normal. And in some ways, they will. But we know, though things go back to normal, they aren’t the same. And thank God for that.