A Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter (Year A)
May 17, 2026
Text: Acts 1:6-14
Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
This past week, I came across a comic strip on Facebook that imagines the Ascension of Jesus in a way that’s both funny and thought-provoking.
In the comic, Jesus is standing with his disciples, just before he ascends into heaven. He looks at them and says, “Gotta go, dudes. Don’t forget what I taught you.”
And then, as he’s being lifted up into the air, he calls back down to them and says, “See you in the funny papers!”—which, of course, is a little nod to the fact that this is a comic strip.
The disciples stand there watching him go, and one of them waves and says, “Bye, boss.” Another one says, “Bye!”
Then, after Jesus has vanished from their sight, they begin to talk among themselves.
One of them asks, “So…what did we learn?”
Another one answers, “Pretty much, it’s love God and love your neighbor.”
Then, someone else says, “Well, that seems pretty simple. I don’t see how we can mess th…”
And just as he’s about to finish, another disciple points and says, “Uh-oh…here come the theologians!”
I love that comic because it made me laugh, but I also think there’s something important to learn from it.
Now, just to be clear, the joke about theologians is funny, but theology matters. The Church has always needed faithful people—scholars, priests, writers—to help us think deeply about who God is and what God calls us to do.
At its best, theology doesn’t lead us away from the heart of God. It leads us more deeply into it.
But, sometimes we make following Jesus a little more complicated than it needs to be.
It can be easy for us to get tangled up and lost in all the questions, and when we do that, we can lose sight of what’s really important and what Jesus first taught us to do, which is love God and love our neighbor.
Or, as a priest I once knew used to say, “Love God. Love your neighbor. Everything else is commentary.”
That line has stayed with me for years, and I thought about it this week as I prepared for today’s sermon.
In our reading this morning from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear the story of Jesus’ Ascension into heaven.
And while the comic strip tells that story with humor, it also points us toward a very real question the disciples had to face after Jesus ascended:
What now?
Jesus had been raised from the dead. He had appeared to them. He had taught them. And now, the time had come for him to return to the Father.
But before Jesus ascends, the disciples ask him one more question:
“Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”
In other words: Is this it? Is this the moment we’ve been waiting for? Is this when everything finally gets fixed? Is this when all the pain and confusion and uncertainty are swept away? Is this when our enemies are defeated, our hopes are fulfilled, and all our questions are finally answered?
Is this when the kingdom comes in the way we expected?
Because that’s really what they’re asking. They’re not asking a random question. They’re asking from a place of hope and longing.
They’ve followed Jesus for all this time. They’ve watched him heal the sick, feed the hungry, forgive sinners, welcome the outcast, and challenge the powers of this world.
They’ve experienced his death and resurrection.
And now, after all of that, they want to know: Is this finally the moment when God makes everything right?
It’s understandable, because we ask it, too.
When we look at the world and see suffering, violence, and division, we wonder, “How long, O Lord? When will things be made right? When will God’s kingdom finally be fulfilled? When will this broken world be restored to what God intended it to be?”
The disciples wanted to know if that moment had finally arrived.
Jesus doesn’t shame them for asking. But he does redirect them.
He says, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.”
That probably wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear.
They wanted a timeline.
Instead, Jesus gave them a mission.
They wanted to know the future.
But Jesus gave them work to do in the present.
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” he says, “and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
That is their calling.
And that’s why the Ascension matters.
It’s not just about Jesus leaving. It’s not Jesus abandoning his disciples. It’s not him saying, “I’ve done my part. Now it’s time for you to figure it out.”
The Ascension tells us that, after Jesus completed his earthly ministry, he returns to the Father. He is lifted into the fullness of God’s glory. He intercedes on our behalf. He carries our humanity with him into the very heart of God.
And before he ascends, he promises his disciples that they will never be alone.
They will receive the Holy Spirit.
They will be given power.
And they will be sent out as witnesses.
And I think that’s what the comic strip from earlier gets right.
The disciples ask, “So…what did we learn?”
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
And show the world—by your life and example—what the love of God in Christ Jesus really looks like.
It sounds simple enough.
But simple doesn’t always mean easy.
It’s not always easy to love God with our whole heart, soul, mind, and strength.
It’s not always easy to love our neighbors as ourselves, especially when our neighbors are difficult or different from us or hard to understand.
It’s not always easy to love when we’re afraid.
It’s not always easy to love when being right or winning an argument matters more than being reconciled.
And maybe that’s why Jesus tells his disciples to go and wait for the Holy Spirit.
Because the mission he gives them is simple, but it isn’t always easy.
They’ll need to rely on more than just their own strength in order to do God’s work.
They’ll need the power of the Holy Spirit.
After Jesus ascends, the disciples stand there, looking up toward heaven, and two men in white robes appear and say, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
In other words, don’t just stand there. You’ve been given a mission and a promise.
Now go and pray and wait for the Holy Spirit.
And that’s exactly what they do.
They return to Jerusalem. They gather together, and they devote themselves to prayer as they get ready for what’s about to happen.
And then finally, when the Holy Spirit arrives, they bear witness to what they’ve seen and heard. And we’ll hear more about that next week on the Day of Pentecost.
Dear friends, that’s the life of the Church.
We pray.
We gather together in worship.
We put our trust in God to give us what we need in order to live good and faithful lives.
And God grants us the gift of the Holy Spirit, strengthening and empowering us for the work of ministry and sending us forth into the world to share the Good News.
We’re still living in that time between the Ascension of Jesus and the fullness of God’s Kingdom.
We still have questions and struggle with doubt.
We still wonder what God is up to in the world around us.
We still look at the world and hope for things to be made right.
But Jesus doesn’t give us a timeline.
Instead, he gives us a promise—just like he did with his disciples.
He promises to never leave us or abandon us to do this work alone.
He gives us the gift of the Holy Spirit to bring us comfort and peace in our lives and to strengthen us for the work of ministry.
He gives us the gift of one another—a community of faith to lean on for strength and support.
And, by God’s grace, he gives us holy work to do.
The disciples couldn’t stay where they were after Jesus ascended, and neither can we. There is a world around us that needs mercy, forgiveness, and hope.
So we go forth to bear witness to the love of God is Christ Jesus—not just in what we say, but in how we live our lives.
We join in the work of building up God’s Kingdom, on earth as it is in heaven.
And that work really can be summed up in five simple words.
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
Everything else is commentary.
Amen.
