A Guiding Absence

sermon by Torin Eikler
Ephesians 1:15-23, Acts 1:1-11
Eastertide 7 (Ascension Sunday)

When I was about five years old, my father took me to the mall. That was a little bit unusual since he was busy at work most of the time and it was my mother who took us out on errands. It was a special day, and I was very excited … for about twenty minutes. After that, I grew tired of marching from store to store, trying on clothes and shoes and waiting while dad tried on things. Behaving yourself, after all, is actually quite boring.

At some point while my father was in a dressing room, I wandered off to do some exploring. I hadn’t gone very far before I came across one of those circular racks of clothing, and I realized that it would make an ideal hiding spot. So I crawled under the clothes hanging on the rack (jackets I think) and sat in the empty space at the center waiting to hear my father call me.

I don’t suppose that I was there very long – waiting is boring wherever you do it – but when I came out, I couldn’t find my father. He wasn’t in the dressing rooms. In fact, the dressing rooms had disappeared. As I began to look for dad, I noticed that the store had filled up with men dressed just like he was. I rushed around calling his name looking for a familiar face among all the strangers and getting more and more frantic until, finally, I woke up.

Okay, so it was just a dream, but it was so real to me at the time that even lying in bed in my own bedroom wasn’t enough reassurance. It wasn’t until I climbed out of the top bunk, crept through the dark house, and opened the door to find my father asleep in his usual place that my heart beat and my breathing slowed down. Even now, I still carry a little bit of that sense of his absence somewhere deep down. Without it, I probably wouldn’t remember the whole thing so clearly. And, I think, it all happened because he shaved his beard the day before…. Strange, isn’t it, how powerful it can be when our expectations don’t keep pace with the changes around us?


That’s part of what makes the story of Jesus such a fascinating one. Throughout his time on earth, throughout his ministry he was always one step ahead of all the expectations. People expected him to be a prophet like John, and he proclaimed himself the fulfillment of prophesy. People expected him to be the messiah who would restore the Davidic kingdom to Israel. He proclaimed a kingdom growing not out of military power and dominance but out of compassion justice and led by not by a king but by a servant. People expected him to fulfill the promise he offered while he was among them, yet he allowed himself to die an ignoble death. No one, not even his closest friends and followers, expected him to rise from the tomb.

Even after he appeared among them several times, their imaginations did not grasp the fullness of his vision. He walked with two of them for much of a day - talking with them and teaching them as he once had – and they did not recognize him until he sat and broke bread with them. Again, he came and stayed with them for forty days. For forty days he taught them about the Realm of God, and still they did not understand. When he told them that the Holy Spirit would be coming to them in a few days, they expected that this would bring the restoration of Israel – a new type of kingdom perhaps, but a kingdom none the less. Again, he confounded them saying, “It is not for you to know the time … that the father has set.” And, ascending on a cloud, he went before them into the presence of God just as he went before them to Galilee – just as he went before them into death and new life – just as he led them throughout his time on earth. But, even then he did not leave them alone, for he had blessed them with the Spirit to help them find the truth, and he promised them power to come.


A couple of weeks ago, we got the movie Finding Nemo from the library to watch with Sebastian. For those of you who haven’t seen it, here’s a brief summary…

Marlin and Coral – a pair of clown fish - are expecting a large family (she has just laid over four hundred eggs), and they are looking forward to raising their children in the family anemone. But before the eggs can hatch, a predatory fish devours them and kills Coral in the process. When Marlin returns to the nest, he finds that just one egg remains – the egg that becomes his son Nemo.

As Nemo grows up, he comes to resent the over-protective parenting style shaped by Marlin’s trauma, and finally challenges his father’s authority by swimming away from the reef into the open ocean where he is captured by a scuba diver. The rest of the movie is filled with the many mis-adventures Marlin has with Dory, a forgetful parrot fish he meets along the way, as the two of them try to find and rescue Nemo. Eventually, as you might guess since this is a children’s movie, Marlin and Nemo are reunited and return to life on the reef as two very different fish.


While Finding Nemo is full of strange characters and is a lot of fun to watch, what struck me this time was a comment made by Dory. At one point, Marlin was reminiscing about finding Nemo in his egg, and he mentions that he promised never to let anything happen to him. Dory replies, “Hmmn…. that’s a strange thing to say. If nothing ever happened to him then nothing would ever happen to him…. Not much fun for little [Nemo].”

I suppose that line stood out to me this time in particular because I am now caught up in the struggle to balance Sebastian’s safety against his own need to explore and experiment. I certainly don’t want him to be hurt, and yet he has to learn by trying new things for himself. And so, I find myself standing by, the parental watchdog in my head on alert, as he struggles to climb up on the couch - or tumbles down the hill when it’s just a little too steep - or walks down the alley to the edge of sight and then just a couple of steps beyond. I even let him toddle off across the store in the mall though for some reason I feel compelled to trail behind him stealthily so that I can be there when he realizes that he is on his own.

It’s not always easy to find a healthy balance, especially since Sebastian can’t imagine some of the realities I’m trying to help him learn … no matter how many times I try to explain. It seems that the only way he will learn that kicking the train track makes the bridge fall apart or that tipping his spoon lands the food on his lap instead of in his mouth is by doing those things again and again and again.


Perhaps Jesus was doing a similar thing all along – raising the disciples from infants in faith and understanding. Explaining, time and time again, what the Realm of God is like using all sorts of different stories…. Teaching about how to minister to others and who to reach out to…. Helping them grow in confidence by sending them out to try their hand at the work in pairs and by themselves…. And, finally, giving them a spirit of wisdom and power so they are ready to step into a new role when they finally face his physical absence.

Yet, that doesn’t quite fit. It’s revealing in some way, but it gets in the way in others. Jesus may have been helping prepare the disciples to continue his ministry, but they never really struck out on their own. Before the coming of the Holy Spirit at the festival of Pentecost, they waited together in prayer and praise at the temple in Jerusalem. And, as the text for last week said, Christ was always in them and they in Christ.

The wisdom and revelation they came to share as well as the power they received for their work flowed from Christ’s presence with them in spite of his absence from their sight. And, until he left them, they could not reach maturity in their faith. Until they received the Spirit to clarify and inspire their understanding of the truth Christ – until they stepped into the roles of teachers and healers – until they accepted the power given to them and began to do the work themselves without relying on Jesus voice and touch they were still as children, experimenting, exploring, and returning to their rabbi for help.

Over the course of their lives before and after the ascension of Christ they did grow up in faith, but that maturity led them to become a body of faith rather than individual believers – a body of which Christ remained the head. Yes, … Christ remains the head. Though the body changes and grows as some pass on and others join the church, Christ is still the head – guiding and directing the work of the body. And, just as he went ahead of the disciples, he goes ahead of us, calling us to come and follow him.

Through the work of the Spirit among us Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians is fulfilled. For how can we live and love as [Jesus] did, except through the mysterious gift and power which he give through his Spirit, so that we become his face, his hands, his heart and body? And so we are given “a spirit of wisdom and revelation” as we come to know our Rabbi more fully. The eyes of our hearts are enlightened by the light of the world, and we come to know the hope to which we have been called and the power that has been granted to us to carry on the work.

And we must carry on the work – the ministry of Christ to all humanity, for the world and all who live here still stand broken and hurting. It often feels overwhelming when we look out at all that needs to be done. So many are longing for a healing and loving touch in their lives. Yet, when we look inward, we feel the guiding touch of the absent Savior and find the strength and power we need to follow.


It is in the times when we find that we are the hands and feet of our God that we feel Christ there with us, for that unique presence is recognized most clearly whenever and wherever the ministry of feeding, healing, and reconciliation is reenacted. In those moments our spirits quicken with love. And just as we begin to reach out and hold on or open our mouths to speak, he disappears again. Poof, he’s gone – gone on ahead, beckoning us ever onward into life.

If you have experienced such a moment, you know the power of meeting Christ in another. Perhaps you echo the words of the disciples at Emmaus: “Were not our hearts burning within us [as we talked together]...?” If you haven’t felt that ineffable presence, don’t worry. We are all waiting….