As far as Bethany

Luke 24: 44-53, NT page 91 Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you – that everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. Sermon Graduating high school is a big deal, so I am thankful that here at First Presbyterian Church we have the long tradition of recognizing those young men and women who have or will be completing high school. I remember graduating high school myself. How proud my parents were, and how proud my family was as I went off to begin college. I was the oldest grandchild, so when it was time for orientation at Presbyterian College everyone wanted to go – my parents, my brother and sister, and my grandmother and grandfather. And that was nice, but a little embarrassing, as none of the other new students at Presbyterian College were accompanied by more than one or both of their parents, while it looked like I was hosting a family reunion. After the experience of being so well supported at freshman orientation, a few weeks later when it was time for me to move into my dorm room I insisted that most of the family stay at home, and to my relief it was just my mom to help me move in. As I think about that I day I remember how strange it is that you get ready to get off on your own – you just about can’t wait to get out of the house to gain a little independence - but on the day my mom drove me to college, met my faculty advisor, and helped me move in, I remember vividly the moment when she said, “If I stay here any longer I’m going to start crying and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop so I’m leaving.” That’s what she said as all the freshmen and their parents were having lunch on a lawn under these beautiful old oak trees and one minute she was there right next to me, but in an instant she had hugged my neck, kissed my check, forced out a goodbye, and walked to her car. It was one of those moments when I knew that something had just ended. Now the end of something isn’t so bad if you’re happy about what’s coming next. The bride cries in the Narthex hugging her father, but she smiles as she walks down the asile to the groom. The husband and wife enjoy their last night in the childfree house, maybe they know enough about life with kids to lament the last morning when they get to sleep in – but it is with tears in their eyes that they hold a newborn for the first time – yes their married life without children has ended but in the same breath they become mothers and fathers – and that’s not so bad as those moments when you know that something has just ended but you don’t know what is coming next. I wonder if that’s what the disciples were feeling. Jesus had walked with them, he taught them, opened their minds, heard their questions, and gave them purpose. There are people who provide these things and some us fall into the illusion that they will always be there to do just what they’ve done. Even though he warned them that he would be leaving - what must it have been like to stare up into the clouds as he passed from their sight? I bet that you know. There’s that very strange feeling of being set adrift as your source of stability, the anchor that holds you fast in storms of uncertainty is suddenly on her way to the car to drive off for home leaving you at college. That very strange feeling – of knowing what has been but not what comes next. He ascended into heaven defying the rules of nature and certainly defying the disciples desire to keep him by their side, because without him surely they felt lost and alone. Not many people want to believe that such a feeling, in one way or another, is a part of the journey of human existence – that we are in this constant cycle of stability then change, union then separation, saying hello then goodbye – and just as it is true with human existence so it can be true for faith. Some of us come here for some sanctuary from all life’s many changes. I’ve come to the conclusion that capital campaigns and building renovations are so stressful in the life of the church not because of the financial cost but because of the spiritual cost – in a world that changes so often what a comfort a 100 year old building can be. Whenever I want to see this congregation get upset all I have to do is pick 3 unfamiliar hymns – all of a sudden my life is in jeopardy, and I’ll say that you need to learn a few more hymns outside of the 10 that you like – and you’ll say that it just doesn’t feel like church if you’re fighting through one of those weird ones that come from Korea. I know what you mean. We have hand shaped pews that have supported saints for generations, an organ that proclaims tradition, strength and stability – here we are connected to something that has lasted through the tests of time, so in the midst of the storm of life’s many changes you can come here and be reminded of your roots. That’s why the disciples go to the Temple I believe. He led them only as far as Bethany, and there’s no point in wishing he could have led them farther. The comfort comes, the true comfort, comes not from the memory or the regret, but the hope that soon something new will take shape. “And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.” We are prone to focus on what’s missing. It’s normal to mourn what’s ended and gone, especially while what’s only just beginning is still taking shape. I don’t know how many times I went home that first semester of college. A new period began soon enough when I never wanted to go home, but that first semester my parents worried that I wasn’t embracing the college experience and that I should try not to come home quite so often. So also there was a time when I knew exactly who Jesus was. I worshiped and followed him with as much certainty as any self-righteous Pharisee, but all at once questions crept in and I was no longer so sure about what I believed and who I knew Jesus to be. The Apostles’ Creed was hard to say – there was not enough verifiable proof to back up it’s many claims – and so it seemed as though I were losing Jesus or Jesus were losing me, and during this time of being set adrift I couldn’t tell if anything new was beginning – I only knew to lament what had just ended. But I tell you – as I stood silent during the Apostles’ Creed, unable to say what I believe, a congregation said those words for me. As I questioned what would happen next, I heard promises of a God who brought the Israelites out of slavery and to the Promised Land – though they walked through the desert, not in one place nor the other. There are high school graduates here today who will to go off to school soon, and when they do I charge them to find for themselves a church and to go, even when their parents aren’t there to make them. Young adulthood is the time to choose what is right for yourself, so I charge all you high school seniors today to find a community of faith who will hold you fast during a time of transition, who will testify to the truth, that while our faith has ups and downs, cliffs and valleys, any temporary sense of being left alone and set adrift is but the beginning of something new. Sometimes plans must change. Sometimes expectations fall away into disappointment, but in their place, in the place of all that we lose, coms something new. As Bob Duncan our liturgist for the day walked down from the Chancel he stopped to ask me how our 1st lesson from Acts jived with his mother’s many admonitions against gambling – but this passage form Acts has little to do with casting lots so much as it has to do with the crucial lesson that while Jesus was gone the disciples did not give up. They kept going. CS Lewis has taught us that one of Satan’s greatest tools is convincing us that periods of uncertainty and doubt are not temporary but permanent – and once we are convinced that our temporary fears or anxieties are permanent the evil one has us right where he wants us. Remember the disciples then – for they knew that while he could only take them so far as Bethany, while he left them staring up into the clouds consumed by his absence – they were not consumed by their present circumstance. They knew, as the Apostle Paul knew, “that our present sufferings are not worth comparing to the joy that will be revealed in us.” Rejoice as they did – for he will come again. Amen.