Not Only Upward

I wonder if you’ve ever been worried that you’ll be asked to do something in church. For some, it’s the terror of speaking in front of crowds. That’s a tough one - it took me quite a while to stop feeling sick when doing any kind of public speaking. For others, it’s the fear of being asked to join the vestry or some kind of committee. Or perhaps you’ve experienced a moment of giving away that you are capable at something, or have an interest that can be utilised, followed by a sense of ‘oh no, what have I done?…’ But here’s a word I want you all to imprint on your hearts today: vocation.

The word vocation comes from the Latin vocare, which means “to call.” At its heart, vocation is about response. God calls; human beings answer. And in the Christian tradition, vocation is never simply about career choice or personal fulfillment. It is about becoming the person God is calling you to be.

I’m sure for many people, the word vocation seems like one reserved for clergy. It’s often equated to the call to ordination, which is indeed a vocation, but it is far from the only one, or even the most important. A student, teacher, parent, nurse, activist, artist, or retiree may be living out a vocation just as holy as ordained ministry. Instead, the broadest and most fundamental vocation is that of every baptized Christian: to worship, to serve, to love, to grow in holiness, and to participate in God’s mission.

So what does this have to do with the Ascension? The ascension is a core event in Christian theology. We mention it every time we celebrate the Eucharist. You’ll recognize the line we say over the bread and wine: ‘recalling his death, resurrection, and ascension, we offer you these gifts’.

But, for many of us, the ascension can feel like one of the stranger parts of the Christian story. As Jesus disappears into a cloud, leaving the disciples craning their necks and probably wondering when he’s coming back, it might feel like Jesus is simply floating away and leaving everyone else to manage as best they can. But the ascension is not Jesus abandoning the world. Instead, once returned to heaven, his reign expands beyond the limits of time and place. Now, Christ is present to the whole world in a new way.

And with Jesus’ presence taking on a new form, the task of his disciples takes a new form too. He gives them a calling: “You will be my witnesses.” They are entrusted with continuing the work of Jesus. They are called to a new way of looking outward. Right up until the last minute, the disciples have been asking for answers and explanations, but now Jesus has left them with something else instead. They have been given their vocation.

Now for anyone who goes through a formal process of discerning a vocational calling, the idea of Jesus just outright telling you - ‘oh by the way, this is what you’re supposed to do with your life’ is outrageously direct. If only it were that simple for all of us!

But the disciples don’t take this direction with immediate enthusiasm. They don’t rush straight out into the streets as fearless preachers. Instead, they stand there staring until the angels practically tell them to get moving: “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”

And I love this moment. It’s a very human snapshot of being caught between what has been and what will be. Jesus is gone from their sight. The Spirit has not yet come. They don’t fully know what they are doing next. And yet. This little uncertain group, confused, waiting, sometimes pretty clueless, is the beginning of the Church. These are the people with the Jesus-given vocation to tell the world about their experiences and faith. And perhaps that is especially important for us to hear. Many Christians carry an inkling of fear, a quiet anxiety that they are not spiritual enough, brave enough, knowledgeable enough, or gifted enough for God to use them meaningfully. We assume vocation belongs to the especially holy people. The experts. The confident ones. But the answer to that is just to look at who Jesus leaves behind to continue his mission! Look at the life of any apostle, disciple, or saint, and you will find that they are human too, just like you, flaws and all.

And once the angels redirect them, what do these freshly commissioned disciples do? They pray. They take this experience, this call, and they devote themselves to prayer. I think sometimes we imagine vocation as certainty, as though God’s call should arrive with a detailed five-year plan attached. But often, it feels like uncertainty, but held in the framework of prayer and the promises of the baptismal covenant.

So vocation is not about possessing extraordinary abilities. Instead, every one of us has a vocation. Not necessarily a dramatic one, or one that comes with a title, a collar, a committee, or a microphone. But a calling all the same: to bear witness to Christ in the life we actually have, among the people actually given to us. At church, at home, at work, in grief, in friendship, in conflict, in service. It is about dwelling within the framework of prayer and baptism, and offering ourselves in availability to God’s call.

And prayer is how we stay rooted in that calling. Not because prayer magically removes all uncertainty, but because prayer keeps us attentive to the presence of God within it. In John’s gospel, on the night before his death, Jesus prays for his disciples as people who belong to God and are about to be sent into a difficult world. He entrusts them to the Father’s care before they know what comes next.

So I’ll ask again - have you ever felt worried that you’ll be asked to do something? Have you ever felt unqualified or too inexperienced, not faithful enough, or x, y, z? But when you feel that twinge of worry, where we hear the whisper of fear that we are not enough, God gently reminds us that being useful to the kingdom has never depended on being flawless. Our gaze is turned again: not only upward, longing for answers, but outward, toward the world Christ loves.

That is what the angels are doing in Acts. They are reminding the disciples that heaven has already given them something to do on earth. Why do you stand looking up? There are neighbours to love. There is mercy to practise. There is good news to speak and embody. There is a wounded world waiting to see what Christ looks like when ordinary people live as though his resurrection and ascension are true.

So perhaps embracing vocation begins less with confidence than with availability. Less with having everything figured out, and more with the simple prayer: here I am, Lord. Use what I have. Use what I know. Use even what I do not yet understand. Something like, ‘God, I haven’t a clue, but I give myself to you’!

Ascension. Vocation. The disciples stood in the in-between, unsure and waiting. But they were prayed for, and they prayed. And from that small, uncertain, praying community, the witness of the Church began. So may we be confident in our call. May our gaze too be turned again: not only upward, but outward, toward the world Christ loves and is present with through the Spirit which dwells within us.

Amen.

Acts 1:6-14; John 17:1-11