Psalm 93; Acts 1:1-11; Luke 24:44-53
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
As Christians, we often say that our hope is in the resurrection. And while that’s not untrue, and certainly not unworthy, I wonder—does it sometimes fall short?
Does it, at times, even do us a disservice?
I. Hope Deferred Can Be Hope Denied
When we place our hope solely in the resurrection—if we frame it only as life after death—it can lead us to lessen concern for this life.
It becomes easy to say:
- “Things are hard now, but heaven awaits.”
- “At least they’re in a better place.”
- “Your children will have it better than you did.”
And on the surface, that sounds like comfort. But dig a little deeper, and we might find that this kind of hope—hope that always defers to the afterlife—can become a way of avoiding responsibility here and now. It gives us permission—whether intentional or not—to care less about our own or other’s present circumstances.
It can even be used as a tool of oppression.
Because if those in power tell the powerless, “This is why we need Jesus,” or “You’ll be rewarded in the next life,” while doing nothing to change injustice in this life—then we are not preaching Good News. We are preaching resignation.
And resignation is not hope.
Furthermore, that sense of resignation strips people of their agency. If things aren’t going to get better until the next life, why even bother in this one? It becomes a denial that this life matters and that is a denial of who we are as humans, as who God created us to be, and even of creation itself. Hope that ends with resurrection contributes to this sense of resignation.
II. What About the Ascension?
This is where the Ascension steps in.
We often end the story at the resurrection—as if that’s the final chapter. But the Ascension is the next movement in the story of redemption. It’s where the promise deepens.
Luke tells us:
“While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.”
It’s a serene and pastoral moment. The disciples aren’t afraid or confused—they are joyful. They worship. Because they witness something that changes everything.
The resurrection says: God has conquered death.
The Ascension says: And now, God is drawing us upward into divine life.
III. The Descent Before the Ascent
Let’s step back and consider the arc of Jesus’ journey.
- At his birth, God descends into human flesh.
- At his baptism, the Spirit descends like a dove.
- At his death, Jesus descends into hell—into the very depths of being.
And only then does the ascent begin:
- From the grave, through the resurrection,
- And finally, into the heavens—where he ascends not only for himself, but on our behalf.
IV. Not Just a Good Ending—A Divine Embrace
If this were just a story, we might say the Ascension is the narrative solution. Jesus can’t die again— what would be the point of another resurrection? It would be like an endless game of Chutes and Ladders, constantly restarting. As a storyteller, you’d need an exit—something believable and compelling. So how does the Jesus story end? Jesus goes up.
But this is not just a good ending nor is it simply a plot twist.
The Ascension is fundamental to our understanding of God.
It’s not just that Jesus returns to heaven—it’s that all of creation is lifted with him. Jesus is fully human and fully divine. In the Ascension, both natures are drawn into union.
This isn’t a one-way street where God comes down and then goes back up, leaving us behind. This is a relationship—a drawing together of heaven and earth, Creator and creation.
No other religion imagined this: that a God would not only come down, but would lift creation up—all of creation: humans, animals, land, plants, even the waters—and redeem our agency, making us not merely bystanders but participants in God’s work of kingdom building.
V. All Creation Drawn Up
Psalm 93 gives us an image:
“The waters have lifted up, O Lord, the waters have lifted up their voice…”
Water doesn’t rise. It falls.
Rain comes down.
Tides ebb and flow,
Water stays below.
But in God’s kingdom, even the waters are lifted up. Even the impossible moves upward.
That’s the hope of the Ascension.
Not just that Jesus was lifted up—but that we, and all of creation, are lifted too.
VI. Not Hope Deferred, but Hope Now
This is not a hope we have to wait for.
The Ascension reminds us: we don’t dwell apart from God. God dwells in us and we in him—here and now.
We don’t defer hope to some unforeseen future. Hope is something we live. It’s the power to act with agency, to steward creation, to seek justice, to love boldly—because we are already caught up in the life of God. It is the trust that when we’ve done all that we are called to do—as agents of God’s love and mercy—we can rest in the assurance that God’s promise is always Good News.
We don’t just believe in the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. We believe in the risenness of our redemption. That hope is not only alive—it is active. It is real. And it is rising.