The Hillside After Goodbye: Reflection on The Feast of the Ascension
There comes a moment in nearly every human life when we realize we cannot hold onto things forever.
Children grow up and walk into their own lives. Parents age. Friends move away. Relationships shift. Seasons change. The people who once guided us eventually place wisdom into our hands and trust us enough to continue without them standing beside us every moment.
And if we are honest, letting go rarely feels graceful while we are living it.
It feels tender and unsteady, sometimes even frightening.
I imagine the disciples felt that way, standing on the mountaintop watching Jesus ascend. Because Ascension is not only about Christ rising into glory. It is also about the disciples learning how to live faithfully after goodbye.
That is the part of this feast that catches in my throat.
Jesus had become the center of their lives. For years, they walked beside him. They listened to his voice when they were uncertain. They watched him heal people, challenge systems, calm storms, feed crowds, and restore dignity to the forgotten. Even after resurrection, I imagine part of them still hoped things might somehow stay as they were.
But love does not cling forever. Real love prepares people to carry the legacy forward.
And so Jesus blesses them and lets them go.
We spend much of our lives becoming both disciple and ancestor at the same time. We are shaped by those who loved us into being, and then one day, we discover it is our turn to carry that love into the world for someone else.
As I reflect on this holy feast, I think about all the ones who made me who I am. The people who taught me how to fold my hands in prayer before I understood what prayer was. The faithful souls who sat beside me in wooden pews that smelled faintly of candle wax and something older than memory itself. The ones who whispered courage into me when I had none of my own. The ones who planted seeds of faith in soil they would never see bloom.
Many of them are gone now, and yet I carry them everywhere I go.
I carry them in the hymns that rise unbidden while driving alone. In the prayers that surface instinctively during difficult moments. In the sacred pauses between words. In the quiet ache that appears at certain thresholds when I wish more than anything for one more conversation, one more shared meal, one more moment at a table that no longer exists.
And perhaps that is part of the mystery of Ascension.
Departure is not abandonment.
The disciples eventually leave the mountain with joy because somewhere between the goodbye and the blessing, they realized they were never truly alone. Christ was no longer simply beside them; Christ would now live through them. The Spirit would come. The love would remain. The mission would continue.
I think many of us need that reminder right now.
We live in a world that often feels weary and uncertain. Many people carry private griefs, deep anxieties, and questions about the future. Yet Ascension gently reminds us that faith has always been about learning how to carry love forward even after the moment changes.
Faith is learning how to let love mature into blessing.
So perhaps the Feast of the Ascension invites each of us to ask:
What legacy of love am I carrying now?
Who blessed me into becoming?
Who am I now called to bless in return?
Perhaps the holiest thing about Ascension is this: Jesus leaves the disciples with raised hands.
As if to say:
You are ready now.
Carry this love forward.
Become the blessing.
With gratitude for each of you, and hope that is unfolding,
Mo. Allison+
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