Credo
7 July 2025

It is sometimes complained that the ascension of Christ receives scant attention in our theological thinking or Sunday sermons. It seems our focus on the cross and resurrection has driven out the ascension from our ken. And yet, the ascension is taught widely in the New Testament. It is also confessed in our creeds. Its neglect is therefore peculiar and provides food for thought.

Perhaps it is because some people find it odd, even if they don’t dare voice it. I do find it odd too, especially in the light of the resurrection of Christ. But before I proceed, I need to clarify what I mean by the ascension. I am referring to the event of Acts 1.9, i.e. the taking up of Christ into heaven 40 days after his resurrection. This is the usual understanding but clarification is needed because some scholars argue for an ascension that took place straight after Christ’s resurrection so that resurrection and ascension constituted one event of his exaltation. This has sometimes been called a secret ascension. I am not referring to that but the ascension of Acts 1.9.

If Jesus’ resurrection means the divine vindication of his ministry and the eschatological conquest over sin and death, why is there a need for the ascension? What more does it do that his resurrection has not accomplished?  Indeed, it is not far-fetched to say that the Second Coming of Christ, so important a tenet of our faith, is necessitated by his ascension (Acts 1.11), so that we may justifiably claim that if there were no ascension there would be no Second Coming. Why then did the ascension take place?

Quick answers to the question come in many forms. One of which is that the ascension depicts Jesus’ return to heaven and thereby demonstrates that he was sent by the Father. Although right, it begs the following question: if at the end heaven descends on earth and God dwells with man, why is there a need to return? Why not bring heaven down to earth after the resurrection, so to speak? This puzzle is heightened if there was a secret ascension because it means the return to the Father had already taken place when Jesus appeared before the disciples on Easter day. If so, why was there a need for Jesus to depart again, 40 days later, if the envisaged return had already taken place?

There are other quick answers, such as without the ascension, there won’t be the enthronement of the Son of Man at God’s right hand (Matt 26.64) or his ministry of intercession for us (Rom 8.34) or the dispensing of the Holy Spirit to all who believe (Acts 2.33, 38). To be sure, all these answers are theologically correct and carry great significance for understanding our faith. But what must not be missed is that they all imply the palpable and significant absence of Jesus Christ on our earth, at least in bodily form. The ascension announces, by deed if not by word, that there is an end to the appearances of the resurrected Jesus on earth, at least for now. But why should Jesus want to be absent when his bodily presence meant so much for his disciples and will mean so much for us? It cannot be because, once enthroned, Jesus would be stuck to his throne; or his intercession would be ineffective unless it was performed in close spatial proximity to the Father; or Jesus and the Spirit cannot minister in the same physical space. Neither can it be that Jesus’ spiritual presence is more potent than his physical presence because if that were the case the Second Coming would be a downgrade. What then is the reason for the divinely-intended absence?

The first thing to notice is that the ascension created an unprecedented phenomenon. German scholarship calls this a Zwischenzeit, often translated into English as ‘interim’ or ‘in-between time’. The term implies that there is a time before it and a time after it. These two ‘times’ recall the Jewish concept of history as being composed of two ages: this age and the age to come. The latter speaks of the end of earthly history, with the true intention for God’s creation being realised in its glorious form. Notably, there is no place for a Zwischenzeit in such a scheme: the old gives place to the new. Although there are already indications that Jesus’ resurrection cannot be contained by this scheme, it is the ascension that decisively breaks it. How is it so? Let me explain.

As many scholars have pointed out, Jesus’ resurrection means the eschaton (the final and climactic phase of God’s redemptive programme) has come. It also means the once incognito King (during his ministry) has now shed his humble clothes and donned his glorious robe, as the battle against sin and death has been won. In an important sense, the age to come has dawned. But his ascension withdraws his glorious bodily presence, leaving the world to run as though the eschaton has not come. This age has therefore yet to end. So the Zwischenzeit belongs neither fully to this age or the age to come. It stands on its own. Or better: it incorporates both times in that the age to come has somehow projected itself into this age, without ending it yet. The Zwischenzeit is then the intermeshing of times.

But why should God design such a complicated and befuddling scheme? A close examination reveals that mission is primary. The age to come has arrived but it has not ended this age because it is God’s intent that the salvific accomplishment of Jesus’ death and resurrection be proclaimed to the whole world. Hence, the intermeshing of times is implemented for proclamation so that all may hear and be saved. Without it, Jesus’ resurrection means ‘curtains’ or final judgment for the world, without any opportunity to hear and be saved. Significantly, the ascension declares the vital importance of God’s people on earth, as to them is entrusted the task of proclamation.

The withdrawal of Jesus’ glorified bodily presence also means that we, the Church, can identify with those who are troubled by pain, doubts and even scepticism because we know how difficult it is to believe without seeing. The Church is then seen as human, fully identified with the struggles of those outside her, but also as the redeemed people, who have experienced the reality of God and can hence minister in faith and hope. The bodily absence of Jesus or the ‘hiddenness’ of God is the divinely-intended context for the ministry of the Church.

In other words, our proclamation will be made in a context where there won’t be full clarity. There will be indications that our message is nothing but pious hoax and there will be indications that its reality cannot be swept aside even by the most astute human thought. In this nexus of pro and contra evidence, faith is to be exercised by those listening to the proclamation. The lack of full clarity will also be a feature of the Christian life because it is God’s intent that this life be characterised by faith.

Now we see why ministry and mission are the key reasons the Spirit is sent (Acts 1.8) and why the heavenly session of Jesus takes the form of intercession for us. Moreover, it is the intermeshing of times that provides the temporal arena for the Church’s identification with the pain and struggles of the world, so that we minister with passion and compassion. Our ministry then takes on an incarnate form and not a triumphant one. This incarnate form speaks of power in weakness and the assured triumph of God’s good plan, no matter how dark the days may be.

However, when viewed from the angle of the eschaton, we see this interesting pattern: just as the age to come projects itself into this age, so the presence of the glorified Jesus is projected into this world in the form of the Church, the redeemed eschatological people of God. And I can’t think of a better term to sum this up than the sacramental being of the Church, understanding the word ‘sacramental’ in the broad sense of material things as signs of divine presence. Hence, in establishing the Zwischenzeit, the ascension produced a sacramentalised Church, for she becomes God’s true sacrament for the life of the world until Christ comes again.

The ascension is indeed odd. But upon further reflection, it is transformed into a profound exposition of the meaning of the Church’s existence and how this fits into God’s gracious plan for the world. There is indeed more to this profundity but that is another topic for another time and another writer.