When we think about where God resides, we have a tendency to think “up.” Humans understand things spatially. We know where things are in relation to other things. So this kind of spatial thinking extends to our thoughts about other-worldly things too. Heaven is up in the sky. Whenever we think of God, or our loved ones in heaven, we want to look up.
There is an old movie made in South Africa called The Gods Must Be Crazy. A man named Xi lives in a hunter-gatherer society, far away from the industrialized world we live in. One day an empty glass Coke bottle falls at his feet – a pilot threw it from his plane. Xi has never seen anything like this before. He assumes it is a gift from the gods, because it fell from the sky.
So Xi takes it back to his village where everyone is curious about this strange gift. Soon they begin to find all kinds of uses for it. Everyone wants this wonderful thing – but unfortunately there is only one bottle. This gift becomes the source of much new stress in their relationships around the notion of scarcity. Lots of arguing about who gets to use the bottle how much and when – and pretty soon Xi has decided this gift is not worth having, so he takes the bottle and sets off on a journey to dispose of it once and for all. He plans to take it to the edge of the world and drop it off.
The film is about the journey and all the different people and difficulties he encounters along the way. But, in the end, he does find a place that looks like the end of the world to him. He drops the bottle into the abyss and feels the satisfaction of ridding himself of a big problem. Then he begins his journey back home. And he, presumably, lives happily ever after.
You and I know that the earth is not flat. And we know that heaven is not up in the sky. But still, don’t we act as though it is?
In the story from Luke’s gospel, we read that Jesus was carried up into heaven. Again, in the first chapter of the book of Acts, we read that he ascended right before their eyes, and that “they were gazing up toward heaven.”
Perhaps, like me, you don’t often think about the ascension of Jesus. It often seems like a detail that I just gloss over on my way to the story of Pentecost. What’s more, the story, brief as it is, makes it sound as though heaven is the same thing as gone. Jesus withdrew, we read; he was taken from their sight. Heaven, we read from this, is somewhere else. So I don’t spend much time on it. But maybe it’s worth taking a minute to wonder about.
Jesus actually talks a lot about heaven – the kingdom of heaven or, sometimes, the kingdom of God. It frequently comes up in the gospels. But he often speaks about it in parables.
What is heaven like? It is like a mustard seed; it starts out as the smallest of seeds, but it holds within it enormous potential.
It is like a hidden treasure, or a pearl of great value; a person who finds it will recognize that its worth is greater than anything and everything else in the world.
It is like seed sown in a field; it is like yeast that, when mixed into dough, will cause everything to rise.
It is like a net thrown into the sea that catches every kind of fish.
It is like the landowner who forgives great debts.
It is the place that belongs to the children, to the poor, to the vulnerable.
The kingdom of heaven has drawn near; the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
And if we hear the words Jesus says about heaven, and we can stop looking up long enough to listen, we might realize that he seems to be talking about something very real, very present, very much available to us here and now.
This was something his first disciples had to find out after he ascended. Their great immediate concern was about where he had gone and when he might come back because, of course, they missed him terribly. They felt lost and without direction when he was gone. But gradually they began putting the pieces together, the things they had learned from him, and what they grew to understand was that he left them responsible, in some sense, for this beautiful kingdom.
He left them responsible for building the church, so every person on earth might have a taste of the kingdom of heaven.
And this is our inheritance too. This is our responsibility and gift. To uphold the body of Christ – the church; to share the vision we have been given; to offer to others the kingdom of heaven.
During this season of Easter, we have been looking at all the elements that are at the heart of being church. And we have also been in the midst of our annual stewardship season. That is not a weird coincidence. Because good stewardship is at the heart of being church.
According to Genesis, God created humans to be stewards over the whole of creation – to care for it, protect it, and nurture it. I believe that caring for creation is about doing what we can to ensure its continuance for future generations.
In the gospel, Jesus made his followers the stewards of his church. In the same way, I believe that caring for the church is about doing what we can to ensure its continuance for future generations. To ensure that the church carries out its mission in the world.
This means that while we look back, with gratitude, we also look forward with a sense of commitment.
When I was a seminarian, I heard the Reverend James Forbes preach in our seminary chapel. The Senior Minister at the Riverside Church in Manhattan, Reverend Forbes was a powerful preacher, full of the Spirit. After the service I approached him, and, apropos of nothing, I started telling him about my father-in-law, Peter Hill, who had also been a preacher. Peter was someone who inspired me on my journey, someone who meant a lot to me. He had died several months earlier at the time I was meeting Reverend Forbes.
Reverend Forbes held on to my hand and listened to me intently. And then he leaned in and said to me, “And now it’s on you.”
I really did not know what the future held for me in that moment. But I knew what he was saying to me: step up; take on the mantle; give your life in service to Christ’s church.
And because in the Presbyterian Church we do not order ourselves hierarchically, I can say to you that the calling for each one of us is the same: step up. We are all called to give of ourselves in service to Christ’s church.
We are called to give freely, from a desire to see the church be the best we can be. We are called to give generously, from the knowledge that we receive God’s gifts freely and abundantly. Like the character Xi, we may know that a sense of scarcity brings harm to a community in all kinds of ways. But trust in God’s good abundance empowers us to do more than we might have imagined.
It is our calling as Christians to work together to carry out the mission of the church, sometimes working through tension and disagreement. We allow love to carry us through any conflict, seeking understanding and reconciliation, because our wholehearted commitment is to Christ’s church. It is our duty to support the church with our time, with our talents, our energy, our particular gifts of the Spirit, as well as our material possessions. Our giving to the church, in all its forms, is an act of faith, an act of gratitude, an act of love, knowing that all we have to give is pure gift, given to us by our Creator.
Now it’s on me and you.
Because 2000 years ago Jesus left his church in the hands of a few disciples. He could see the potential that was in them. Through the eyes of our hearts, we can see it too: what might be. We can see the possible.
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