Reflection on the readings for the 17th May, the 7th Sunday of Easter
- 5 days ago
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Readings: Acts 16-14; John 17:1-11
Today’s reflection is by the Vicar, the Revd Canon Jonathan Cain.
Citizens of a different kingdom
Friends, it was a former Labour Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, who allegedly coined the phrase, A week is a long time in politics.
Well, we’ve seen that in the UK over the past few days. Local council elections, mayoral contests, devolved parliament results — all reshaping the political landscape. Questions raised about the suitability of some newly elected representatives. And at the centre of it all, a Prime Minister who looks increasingly vulnerable, blown off course by events, with commentators predicting more turbulence ahead as other politicians sense their moment to take the top job.
Politics is like that.
It shifts.
It reacts.
It is provisional.
And so a week can feel very long indeed.
But something else happened this week — something momentous — and it passed almost unnoticed. On Thursday the Church celebrated the Feast of the Ascension. And Ascension, as I have suggested previously, is the other half of Christmas.
Christmas, of course, has the advantage of a good cast list: mother and child, a dutiful stepfather, shepherds, angels, kings… and the donkey. Decorations, trees, presents, too much food.
Ascension, by contrast, has a small group of friends caught mid sentence as Jesus disappears into a cloud.
Christmas gives us two Bank Holidays.
Ascension slips by on a Thursday, forty days after Easter, with barely a ripple.
Perhaps it’s a branding issue. Perhaps Ascension would get more attention if we called it… Jesus’ coronation. Because that is what it is: the moment Jesus takes his place at the right hand of God the Father as the one who reigns in heaven.
But if Ascension is Jesus’ coronation, then the question naturally follows:
What is Jesus doing now?
What does it mean for us that he reigns?
To answer that, we need to take a step back.
In our Christian understanding, we are created in the image of God, and our final destiny is to be with God forever. That is Jesus’ promise of eternal life. But while we are created in God’s image, we are not God. We differ in two significant ways.
We are existence — temporary, changeable, subject to decay.
God is essence — permanent, unchanging.
And, like our existence, our capacity for love, mercy, justice, forgiveness… is limited.
God’s capacity is limitless.
At Christmas, God crosses the divide between essence and existence.
At Ascension, Jesus crosses back — taking our humanity with him.
And so there is a man at the heart of God who knows what it is to be limited, like us.
Who understands when we mess up. Who offers forgiveness to all who turn to him.
And the promise is that we too will cross that divide — from temporary existence to permanent essence — and dwell with God forever.
With that theological background, let’s turn to today’s readings.
The short account of the Ascension in the Acts passage divides the moment into three movements.
First movement: the question of timing
“Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” the disciples ask Jesus.
It’s a political question, really. When will things be put right? When will the rightful king take the throne? When will the nation be restored?
Jesus refuses to give a timetable. Instead, he gives is disciples a vocation. You will be my witnesses. You will testify to what you know. You will receive power from the Holy Spirit.
The kingdom is not something we sit around waiting for.
It is something we live towards.
Second movement: the long upward gaze
The disciples stand staring into heaven. And who can blame them? Something astonishing has just happened.
But the white clad messengers gently redirect them. Why are you looking up? Why are you frozen in the past? There is work to do.
What we cannot know or control should not command our attention.
God has given us gifts for the present moment — and we are to use them.
Third movement: the community at prayer
And then, almost quietly, we glimpse the early Church: gathered, praying, waiting together. Women and men, apostles and others, united in devotion. This is not nostalgia. It is preparation. It is the community becoming emotionally and spiritually mature — growing up in faith, with the help of the Holy Spirit.
This is what the kingdom looks like in its early stages: people together, seeking God, sharing life, learning to love.
The question of timing. The long upward gaze. The community at prayer. How does all this relate to the political turbulence of the week?
Firstly, if this week has been a long time in politics, then remember that a week was a long time in the life of Jesus. Holy Week — from triumphal entry to crucifixion to resurrection — was the longest week in history. And it is foundational to our faith. The disciples had a question about timing. Christians understand Holy Week to be at the centre of human history. Jesus is recognised as king not by polls or pundits but by the cross and the empty tomb.
Secondly, we long for God’s kingdom — but we don’t wait passively. We worship and reorientate ourselves to God. But we don’t stare into the sky, longing for past glories or future certainties. We look forward. We get on with it. We campaign for the kingdom of God by proclaiming the gospel.
We witness.
We serve.
We love.
Thirdly, election to God’s kingdom is a gift. Not earned. Not campaigned for. Not won by popularity. It is grace. And yet we grow into it — through community, prayer, and the slow work of emotional and spiritual maturity.
In the gospel reading, Jesus prays. It is an intimate prayer — Father and Son speaking in the language of eternity. And Jesus says that eternal life is this:
to know God.
Not simply to live forever, but to be drawn into the life of God. The disciples overhear this prayer. And in overhearing, they are invited into the relationship itself. The Church is meant to be characterised by this intimacy — with God and with one another.
And intimacy, Jesus says, offers protection. Not insulation from difficulty, but steadiness in the face of it.
One of the criticisms levelled at the Prime Minister this week is that he has been blown off course by events. Events, or the storms of life, can and do buffet us, but faith in Jesus, who reigns in heaven, protects us from being blown off course — by events, by fear, by the anxieties others project onto us.
Faith anchors us.
The Spirit empowers us.
The community sustains us.
So yes — a week is a long time in politics. But in the life of God, a week is simply another moment in the unfolding of grace.
Leaders will rise and fall.
Policies will shift.
Public moods will change.
But the sovereignty of God — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit — is not up for re election.
And the citizenship we are invited into is not fragile, not temporary, not dependent on events.
It is grounded in love.
It is sustained by prayer.
It is expressed in the way we share our lives.
Like those first disciples, we need each other.
We need to gather.
We need to pray.
We need to grow up in faith together.
And as we do, we become — slowly, imperfectly but beautifully — citizens of the kingdom of God.
Amen.