May. 17, 2026 - Ascension Sunday

In the rhythm of the church calendar, certain moments stand out as foundational pillars of our faith. While Christmas and Easter capture our attention with their familiar celebrations, another crucial event deserves our remembrance and reflection: the Ascension of Jesus Christ.

The Ascension represents a pivotal moment in the narrative of redemption. After Jesus rose from the dead, he spent time with his disciples—appearing through walls, sharing meals by lakeshores, walking alongside confused travelers on the road to Emmaus. He was, in a sense, "on the loose," reassuring his followers and preparing them for what would come next. Then came the moment when he gathered them on a mountain and ascended into heaven, taking his place at the right hand of God's throne.

Throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus speaks of "the hour" with profound significance. This hour encompasses multiple sacred moments: his suffering and death on the cross, his glorious resurrection, and ultimately, his ascension to the Father. These aren't separate, disconnected events but rather a divine trajectory—a pathway that reveals the full extent of God's love for humanity.

This trajectory matters deeply because it's not meant for Jesus alone. It's the pattern for our own spiritual lives.

In baptism, we enter this same sacred journey. When we go under the water—whether literally submerged or symbolically sprinkled—we enact our death to self. We declare that life will no longer revolve around our own desires, our own way, our own agenda. We die to selfishness and rise to a new way of being.

Rising from the baptismal waters mirrors Christ's resurrection. We emerge into newness of life, empowered to live differently—to put God first, to prioritize others, to embody love in tangible ways. And as we live this post-baptism life in unity with God and others, we participate in the ascension reality. Our lives become living testimonies that glorify God, reflecting the same unity Jesus shared with the Father.

The question confronts us directly: Are we truly living this trajectory? Have we genuinely died to ourselves? Are we putting others first, going the extra mile, choosing their way over our own?

Human nature reveals a troubling consistency from childhood to adulthood. Remember the playground sandbox? When children didn't get their way, they grabbed their toys and moved to another sandbox. Sadly, this pattern persists in adult life, even within the church.

When preferences aren't met, when things don't go our way, when we're not being served exactly as we'd like, the temptation arises to take our "toys" elsewhere—to find another church, another community, another group that caters to our preferences. But this stands in stark opposition to the life Christ modeled and calls us to live.

The Ascension challenges us to ask: Are we willing to serve rather than be served? Are we ready to die to our preferences for the sake of unity and love?

As Jesus prepared to return to the Father—to that place he occupied at creation's dawn, as described in John's opening words—he prayed for his followers. He asked the Father to pour out the Spirit upon them, to guide them, to keep them unified.

A beautiful new trinity emerges from this moment: Jesus' example, our living of that example, and God's Spirit guiding us. This trinity becomes visible to the world through our unity. People will know we are disciples of Christ not primarily through our correct theology or impressive programs, but through our oneness—our refusal to let differences divide us, our commitment to love across boundaries, our determination to stay together despite disagreements.

When we live in this unity, we give glory to God. And our world desperately needs more of God's glory.

Turn on the news for just a few minutes, and the toxicity becomes overwhelming. Violence, anger, hatred, and division dominate the headlines and flood our social media feeds. Our nation has become the "Divided States" rather than the United States. Communities fracture along countless fault lines. Even the church—meant to be a beacon of unity—struggles with internal divisions.

Consider the contentious topics that immediately raise our defenses: human sexuality, immigration policy, politics. These issues reveal deep rifts even among people of faith who claim to follow the same Jesus, read the same scriptures, and worship the same God.

No wonder those outside the church want nothing to do with us. Why would they be attracted to communities that mirror the same divisions, the same animosity, the same inability to bridge differences that plague the broader culture?

History reveals a powerful truth: we are at our best when we unite across our differences to serve others and advance the common good. In the early 1800s, Christians from diverse backgrounds came together to establish universities where people could receive education alongside spiritual formation. Institutions like Southern Methodist University stand as monuments to what unity can accomplish.

When a woman suffering from tuberculosis in early 1900s Phoenix found no medical care available, her church community rallied together. They united to create Good Samaritan Hospital, which eventually became Banner University Hospital—a legacy of healing that continues today.

These stories demonstrate what becomes possible when we embrace our diversity, celebrate our differences, and channel our collective energy toward love and service rather than self-interest and division.

The Ascension calls us to stop listening to voices that divide, that speak hatred, that tear us apart. These voices—regardless of their source—do not reflect the heart of God or the teachings of Jesus Christ. We must stop following them, stop amplifying them, stop empowering them.

Instead, we need to elevate and embrace voices that unite, that build bridges, that call us to our better angels. When we come together as one—especially as people of faith—God's glory pours out. In that unity, we experience the amazing and wonderful things God longs to do in and through us.

The Ascension isn't just a historical event to remember once a year. It's a present reality and a future hope. It reminds us that Jesus has gone before us, preparing the way. It assures us that the Spirit remains with us, guiding and empowering us. And it challenges us to live in such radical unity and love that the watching world can't help but see God's glory reflected in our lives.

The hour has come. Will we embrace this sacred trajectory?