Lectionary Commentaries for May 14, 2026
Ascension of Our Lord

Although the church reads these last verses of the Gospel of Luke several weeks after Easter, Luke tells this story as though it takes place within a day of the resurrection, immediately following the Emmaus story. Right before this passage, Jesus has suddenly appeared to the disciples as they are speaking to the Emmaus walkers. He shows them his wounds and eats a piece of fish in front of them.

So, it is confusing when,  in his final words, Jesus says to the disciples, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you.” One can hear those gathered wondering to themselves, “But aren’t you with us right now?”

Luke seems to open an in-between, liminal space with these words, a borderland between the world that the disciples still inhabit and the resurrected reality of Jesus. This small phrase indicates that they, and we, are moving into a new relationship with Jesus. Jesus is no longer with them as he was; his presence and their relationship are about to change. Might the church lean into this liminal borderland, this changed relationship with the earthly Jesus and the Christ of the resurrection? What might it mean to live with this reality in mind?

Scripture fulfilled, future tense

As Christians, we walk a tricky theological line when it comes to the Hebrew Scriptures. We confess that God was speaking to God’s covenant people long before the events of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus; we also claim that, somehow, these ancient writings illuminate the events of Jesus’s life, and especially his suffering death and resurrection. Luke does not attempt to make an apology for this claim; his is a bold declaration of faith, and one that has been stated twice already in the Gospel (18:31; 24:25–27).

But here Luke does not stop with this declaration, as he does earlier in the Emmaus narrative (24:13–35). In Jesus’s final words, Luke paints a vision of future fulfillment, a vision of repentance for the forgiveness of sins that will be preached to the Gentiles, to those outside of the covenant people of God. 

Careful readers of Luke will hear an echo here, for we have heard preaching for the repentance of sins before, when John was in the Galilee (3:3). Now, the past is prologue; the mission of John becomes the mission of the church, and it overflows the banks of the Jordan to water the God-beloved world.

How might we invite one another to lean into the promise of the future tense, to trust that fulfillment points us not only to the past but to the unseen future, toward God’s ongoing work of fulfillment?

Wait for the promise

The final words of Jesus’s last speech in Luke’s Gospel are not a rallying cry or a declaration of power. Instead, Jesus tells those gathered with him to wait. They will not fulfill the scriptures by taking matters into their own hands. Their part in this new future depends on God. They must wait for the promise of God, the power of God. Without this, they may be in danger of fulfilling their own fantastic ideas, but they will not be living into the vision that Christ has unfolded before them. So, Jesus tells them, “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.”

The disciples do not grumble at this command to wait, but for contemporary Christians, waiting for God’s direction and empowerment can sometimes seem too passive in a world with so much need. Luke here invites us to interrogate whether our ministries and missions rely on God’s promise and God’s power. Where are we tempted to get ahead of God’s timeline, to force God’s hand, to remake God’s future tense in our own images? What might it mean to wait faithfully for God to empower the church?

A final blessing and a new beginning

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus is blessed by Elizabeth (1:42) while still in the womb. He commands the disciples to bless and not to curse those who curse them (6:28). Twice he blesses and breaks bread (9:16; 24:30). But only in 24:50 does Jesus raise his hands and bless people. In this Gospel, the ministry of Jesus moves from the angelic announcements in the first chapter toward this final benediction, this invocation of God’s blessing upon God’s people. Luke’s retelling of the story of Jesus does not end at the cross or the empty tomb. It ends with the blessing of God being poured out on God’s people even as Jesus ascends. Luke invites us to hold out for the benediction. 

With this benediction, the story begins again. For the disciples return, like the shepherds did in 2:20, blessing God in their turn. And just as the angel announced in 2:10, so now the disciples are filled with “great joy.” So, they return to the temple, to the place where this Gospel began, where we met Zechariah in chapter 1, and where Zechariah met the angel of the Lord. The benediction takes them, and us, back to where we began; but they return changed, filled with joy and awaiting God’s power.

What if receiving Christ’s benediction does not require us to scatter to the winds? Could this same blessing carry us home again, filled and changed and praising God? 

The book of Acts begins with a recap: a summary of what was narrated in the Gospel of Luke, followed by a retelling of the final story of that earlier volume—the ascension of Jesus. This is not a word-for-word repetition of the earlier account, and any attempt to map the Acts version neatly onto that of the Gospel would meet some challenges, not least in the addition, here, of a 40-day period during which the resurrected (but not yet ascended) Jesus appears among the apostles.

The end of one story, the beginning of another, and at the same time the midpoint of Luke’s two-volume masterpiece—it is clear that, for the author of Luke-Acts, the ascension is an extremely significant event. What is equally apparent, however, is the way in which it has been downplayed or ignored by many modern commentators. In his book on the subject, theologian Douglas Farrow writes:

Once it was seen as the climax of the mystery of Christ. … Today it is something of an embarrassment. Both exegetically and theologically the ascension is quickly assimilated to the resurrection. Its festival is commonly passed over as a redundant marker on the road to Pentecost, allowing it little or no impact on the shape of Christian life and thought.¹

Certainly, questions over the plausibility and/or historicity of Jesus’s disappearance into the clouds have generated discomfort on all sides, and the practical challenges surrounding the timing of the festival within the liturgical calendar have, arguably, also contributed to its neglect.

Turning our attention to the ascension, however, need not demand a deep dive into questions of what really happened or what might be possible, nor, necessarily, a detailed analysis of its theological significance. Part of the way in which we can take scripture seriously is simply by noticing those places where an author invites us to pause, rest, or dwell—regardless of whether we do so in delight or in puzzlement. This is precisely one such location, not only because of the aforementioned repetition of the event, but also because of the effect that the ascension has upon the momentum of the wider narrative.

The first instruction that Jesus gives to the apostles within this account is that they must wait in Jerusalem for the coming of the Holy Spirit (1:4–5). Already, this disrupts the forward movement of the story. As they are gathered, the apostles ask Jesus: “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” (1:6). As can happen so often when we are invited to pause, the apostles immediately turn their attention to what might come next, and in so doing, they are influenced by a desire for restoration of what has gone before.

They look behind them to try to imagine what might lie ahead. Although Jesus’s response (1:7–8) reorients the apostles toward a radically different future, far broader and more astonishing than what they had imagined, it is also a future in which they are required to take on a new role as leaders rather than followers.

The question posed by the apostles is likely also shaped by their geographical location. Waiting in place invites attentiveness to place, another thread of biblical interpretation that has, arguably, been neglected by many modern interpreters.² The apostles are confronted with troubling realities in Jerusalem, not least the ongoing Roman occupation and their conflict with some of the Jewish authorities. Individuals and church communities might usefully respond to this passage by giving attention to the challenges and opportunities to be found in their own locale.

The risk and the reward of waiting can be found in a fuller recognition of reality, and this is often uncomfortable. Here, the apostles must face a future in which Christ is no longer present in the way that he once was, a transition that involves loss and challenge. Perhaps, therefore, discomfort is to be found within the biblical account of the ascension itself, not solely among its modern interpreters. Indeed, such discomfort may not be a mark of “failure” or “misunderstanding” but, rather, a sign of stepping into a new and unfamiliar way of seeing and experiencing the world.

A pause at this point may invite reflection on new chapters and midlife transitions for individuals and institutions alike. The familiar notion of “midlife crisis” often entails a desire to resist stepping into the responsibilities of the next chapter of life and to return to the past. Healthy navigation of change invites the integration of what has gone before with what will come.³ The story of the ascension hints at precisely this weaving together of past and future.

Where the apostles have been (literally and symbolically) is not necessarily where they are going, yet both form part of the ongoing story. Jesus’s astonishing departure into the clouds initiates a new way of seeing that retains its relevance for the 21st-century church. Where are we currently being invited to direct our gaze? What are we being invited to notice, to sit with, even to wrestle with in the places we find ourselves today?

Notes

1. Douglas Farrow, Ascension and Ecclesia: On the Significance of the Doctrine of the Ascension for Ecclesiology and Christian Cosmology (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 9.
2. For more on attentiveness to space and place, especially in relation to the ascension story, see Matthew Sleeman, Geography and the Ascension Narrative in Acts (Cambridge University Press, 2010).
3. Those who are interested in journeying further with this train of thought may appreciate Frank Tallis’s book: Wise: Finding Purpose, Wisdom, and Meaning Beyond the Midpoint of Life (Abacus, 2026).

Since ancient times Psalm 47 has been used for worship.¹ It is plain to see why Christians have used it on Ascension Day. “God has gone up with a shout” (verse 5) brings to mind Jesus’s ascent into heaven. “The early church used the psalm to celebrate the ascension of Jesus, a practice that is commonly followed still in the liturgy of many churches,” observes biblical scholar James Luther Mays.²

But long before Easter, Psalm 47 had a place in Israel’s worship. It is an enthronement psalm, not for an earthly king but for God. In Psalm 47, the Lord reigns. Psalm 47 proclaims that God is in heaven, ruling over earth.³ The psalm summits in verse 5: “God has gone up with a shout, the LORD with the sound of the trumpet.” Some scholars have supposed that 47:5 envisions the entrance of God into the sanctuary, symbolized by the procession of the holy ark of the covenant. In any case, Psalm 47:5 “expresses the theological heart of the psalter—God reigns!”⁴

Psalm 47 may be divided into two sections. Verses 1–4 begin with the cue (or command) to clap, shout, and sing. Then we hear the reason for all this joy: God “subdued peoples” and “nations” and “chose our heritage” for God’s people. God made Israel into a nation with a name and a land to dwell in. “The pride of Jacob” (verse 4) refers to the land God gave to the people, land that once belonged to other nations. In the New Testament, we find a similar expression: “Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy” (1 Peter 2:10). There is a before and an after, defined by the mighty acts of God.

Next comes the (literal) high point of the psalm, verse 5, in which “God has gone up with a shout.” This may refer to a processional in worship, demonstrating that God is enthroned in the heavens. The theological meaning is that that God rules over all nations—indeed, the entire universe. Israel rejoiced in being God’s people, but also in knowing God as Lord of all, not just some local deity.

The second section of the psalm, verses 6–9, continues the joy. In verse 6 alone, the people are told four times to sing. Here’s why: God is Lord over all the peoples. “God is king over the nations.” The kings and princes—those who wield power on earth—gather to worship God. If only we could hear this psalm instead of just read it, our ears would ring with a royal fanfare of trumpets, and the clapping, shouting, and singing would be like waves crashing on the shore.

Above the joyful din come the clear notes of God’s mercy and power. In particular events in history, God is at work delivering and saving Israel. Yet in those specific acts of God, the general mercy and power of God are revealed for all nations. Since God rules over all, all who join in the worship become partakers of God’s blessings.

With this background in mind, it makes perfect sense that churches use Psalm 47 on Ascension Day. The obvious connection is that Christians applied “God has gone up with a shout” (Psalm 47:5) to Jesus being “lifted up” into the sky (Acts 1:9). But there is a deeper theological meaning, for “Jesus of Nazareth connected his career with the announcement of the reign of God (Mark 1:14–15),” observes James Luther Mays. Jesus’s whole life—his incarnation—embodies for us the reign of God. The story of Jesus up to and including the ascension became for Christians a new point of reference for “celebration of God’s rule.”⁵

Likewise, the text from Ephesians speaks of Christ “seated at God’s right hand in the heavenly places, far above all” earthly power. God has made Jesus’s feet “the head over all things for the church” (Ephesians 1:20–22). Therefore, the first Christians, though a small and endangered band, spread the gospel with boldness. Christ’s ascension empowered them.

In the Gospel text the risen Jesus promises the disciples that they will be “clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49). Luke says that Jesus was “carried up into heaven,” and the disciples “worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God” (Luke 24:52). Perhaps the disciples used Psalm 47 to bless God in the temple.

On the Ascension of Our Lord, Psalm 47 imparts joy and confidence in God. The psalm may be spoken or sung, and it can also be preached. Psalm 47 includes “the memory of the past, experience of the present, and hope for the future.”⁶ Here is a natural outline for a three-part sermon.

Move 1: Proclaim what God has done for us in the past, including the resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Move 2: Work with our present experience as people who seek to follow Jesus, but who do not always see his reign and therefore must live by faith. But by joining in worship, we “say and act out the reality that our lives and our world have been shaped by God’s loving rule.”⁷ Move 3: Face the future with hope, trusting that one day the world will see the glory of God shining from the face of Christ.

Hymns that express the faith of Psalm 47 for Christian worship:
“Lift High the Cross,” ELW 660 (a processional, just as Psalm 47 is a processional)
“This Is My Father’s World,” ELW 824 (proclaims God’s rule over nature and history)
“Rejoice, for Christ Is King,” ELW 430 (expresses joy in God’s reign)

Notes

The believers at Ephesus were Paul’s pride and joy because they turned from a pagan life to a life of faith in God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. Every pastor rejoices when the community responds to the gospel. Hence, Paul, in this part of Ephesians, breaks into thanksgiving and prayerful praise because of believers’ faith. Mentioned about nine times in the letter, faith in God stands out as the hallmark of the Ephesian community (Ephesians 1:15–16). 

Similarly, the contemporary Christian church should rejoice when new members join the church and give their lives to Jesus Christ, accepting him as their Lord and Savior. This celebration that Paul does continually is not just about a meager church, but it’s about numerical and spiritual growth. In the Global South—that is Africa, Asia, and Latin America—the growth of the church is not measured by regular members, but by a greater number of people who publicly declare their repentance from sin and seek to live a life of faith in Jesus Christ. An experience of God and encounter with Jesus are a reality in the Global South, a sure sign that God is at work in people’s lives. 

As God’s Spirit was at work among the Ephesians, he is also at work in today’s world, inviting and convicting a new generation of believers to experience God and encounter Jesus in their faith walk. As such, Paul’s prayer is not just mentioned to the Ephesians, but is addressed to God, who is righteous in all his works with humanity (verses 17). 

In Paul’s thanksgiving for the faith of the believers in the Ephesian Christian community, there is a reminder that God has always planned and purposed salvation for all people from eternity. Eternally, God loves all people, even those who may not know him as a heavenly Father. In Jesus Christ, God’s plan for salvation history was implemented, and God’s love was displayed on the cross of Jesus, his Son and our Lord. In other words, God did not discontinue his plan for salvation in the Pentateuch, but the New Testament is a living testimony of the nature and essence of God. Like Paul, Christians should be thankful for God’s plan of salvation and always live in love with others.

At the center of Paul’s thanksgiving and prayer, there is the message of God’s revelation: that God is open and gracious to help believers appropriate the Holy Spirit and live to reap the spiritual blessings of faith, hope, and love (1 Corinthians 13:1–13). One of the central spiritual blessings the church does not teach to believers is wisdom and revelation, yet God is the fountain of wisdom (Ephesians 1:17b; Proverbs 3:1–35). Faith, wisdom, and revelation are spiritual blessings believers cannot live without. 

These three spiritual blessings, when appropriated, will usher in new insights, discernment, and inner fortitude (1 Corinthians 2:6–16). These three mentioned blessings can make a believer’s heart become an inner sanctuary and make faith a living reality. Spiritual discernment makes hope alive and opens a believer’s eyes to see the true picture of the world and where the universe is heading under the guidance of God (verse 18). 

Pastors, religious leaders, and lay people all need to cultivate, pray, and plead with God to become mature in the affairs of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is Jesus, and he cannot be manipulated because his personality is enshrined in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Having been born and raised by parents who encountered Jesus at a younger age—especially my mother, who was blessed with gifts of healing, speaking in tongues, and even interpreting tongues, as well as the gifts of prophecy—I can testify that Paul’s message in Ephesians 1:15–23 is a concrete reality. 

The questions we need to ask in North America and Europe are: Where is the Holy Spirit in the Global North church? Why don’t many Christians living in these affluent and wealthy worlds speak in tongues, practice healing ministry or even exhibit a hunger for the Holy Spirit? The apostle Paul might find it perplexing that the Holy Spirit is not at the center of these 21st-century congregations. Without the Holy Spirit’s wisdom, as well as revelation, Christian knowledge of God is so shallow and could even be called too religious. The contemporary world is in urgent need of the Holy Spirit. 

Paul was not oblivious to the imperfections of humanity and the church, but he prayed that believers see that all that they seek to do in the life of the church cannot be done without the power of the Holy Spirit (verse 19). Yes, clergy and ecclesial leaders may have academic head-knowledge to do the business of the church, but there is a need to convert knowledge to the heart, where God can transform, shape, form, and baptize academics for the mission and gospel of Jesus Christ (verses 18–19). 

The power to do God’s work was unleashed on the cross and in the resurrection of Jesus, and that energy is available to all who invoke and call upon the Spirit. If poor Christians in the Global South can revive and revitalize the church, why can’t Christians in the Global North do the same? Education that is not for the service of the kingdom of God is useless because it feeds egos, arrogance, and pride. Jesus, who is called the Advocate in the Gospel of John, is the one who infuses the church with his presence and power. He has the power to influence the church for God’s purposes, and healing, feeding, and teaching ministries are done under the auspices of God’s Son (verses 20–21). 

The work of the Holy Spirit’s ministry is vast, and the church is the space where God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are manifested. God, who raised Jesus from the grave, made him the head over all that happens in the life of the church and its believers (Ephesians 1:22–23; Philippians 2:9–11). In other words, pastors, bishops, and lay leaders are not the heads of the church, but God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit are the orchestrators of all that happens in and around the church. 

Our failure to recognize the presence of Jesus in the church will lead our clergy leaders to become idols. Idols do not save people, but only Jesus saves and calls people into his church, heart, and soul. As a reconciled community, the church becomes the harbinger of love, where God is worshipped and exalted. The writer of Ephesians 1:15–23 makes it clear that the love and life of God are poured out and manifested in the believers, and the church becomes the image of the One who fills everything in every way (verse 23). In all that the author writes, we should observe that he does not make the life of the church a “once upon a time” event, but that God’s Spirit is ongoing until the Parousia. 

All that the church and its believers need are God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. And this is the gospel embedded in this Ephesians passage. When the Holy Spirit is appropriated, the church will be transformed to resemble the image of Jesus, and believers will live and become the ambassadors of God in the whole world.