Thought for the week: Walking with purpose, in the strength of a promise
Alleluia! Not as orphans are we left in sorrow now; alleluia! He is near us; faith believes, nor questions how. Though the cloud from sight received Him, When the forty days were o’er, shall our hearts forget His promise?
“I am with you evermore.”
These are words from the hymn - 'Alleluia sing to Jesus, His the sceptre, His the Throne', written by William Chatterton Dix (1837-98). Hymns have always been very special to me from as far back as I can remember, and certainly from my earliest days of learning to play them on the organ in church.
The verse quoted refers to the Ascension of our Lord, one of the four great festivals of the church, which we celebrated on Thursday. We need not be puzzled to find that the friends of Jesus felt no sadness of farewell as he was taken from them.
The ascension was not an end, but rather an assurance that the work their master had begun was, indeed, successfully completed. Jesus’ departure was not the end, but rather the beginning of a deeper, spiritual presence whereby Jesus could now be with them everywhere, and at all times.
The hymn gently reminds us that Christ is near, even when we cannot trace the “how”. His presence is no longer local and physical, but to be found in word and sacrament, in worship, and where two or three are gathered in his name.
The Ascension cloud does not mark a disappearance, but a transformation. In biblical imagery, clouds are often signs of divine presence, for example, the cloud on Sinai, the cloud at the Transfiguration.
The cloud of the Ascension does not hide Christ from us; it lifts Him into a new mode of presence. He is not gone. He is enthroned. The throne may be above the clouds, but His heart is still with us.
The closing question of the verse is rhetorical but powerful - “Shall our hearts forget His promise?” The implied answer is a firm “No”.
The promise, “I am with you evermore”, is our anchor. Tomorrow, the Sunday after the Ascension, invites us to live in the promise, even when the fulfilment seems delayed.
The Church is now in that space between Jesus’ ascension, and the sending to us of the gift of his Holy Spirit at Pentecost, which we shall celebrate next Sunday.
Think of the disciples, standing on the Mount of Olives, eyes lifted, hearts full of questions and then slowly walking back to Jerusalem, to wait and to pray. That’s where we are today: walking down the hill, waiting for Pentecost, but walking with purpose, in the strength of a promise.