I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, 18 so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, 19 and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. 20 God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21 far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.”

If you looked in the bulletin and saw the sermon title, “Just Whose Ascension Is It?” and wondered to yourself, “Just how ignorant does the Pastor think we are?” well, of course I know that you know that we are celebrating the Ascension of Jesus today. But by the time I’m done with this message, I hope I will have convinced us that we are also celebrating our own ascensions this day, but not the kind of ascension that most mortals have in mind.

Something about human nature desires the kinds of honor, glory, and exaltation that Ascension Sunday celebrates. Some of that we can chalk up to arrogance, pride or self-promotion. But not all. Maybe, deep down, we know that God made us for a better life, a better destiny and a better identity than the ones which the world usually offers us. What if the universal longing for eternal honor, glory and greatness is actually part of the Creator’s thumbprint on our souls?

Thus we find all around the world, in all sorts of times and cultures, stories, symbols, ceremonies and celebrations of heavenly and divine elevation and exaltation for mere mortals, like what you see pictured here, on an ancient Roman fresco. It commemorates the ascension to heaven, on the back of an eagle, of one of the Caesars who had recently died. There he supposedly takes his throne as a god among the other gods. The Roman Senate voted and conferred such honors on the late Caesar, because of all the battles he had won, all the loot and captives he had taken, and all the people he had killed, enslaved and ruled, and by how effectively he kept power and social control. And so the Caesars climbed to heaven over the bodies of the dead.

That sounds ancient and barbaric, but here’s another image of someone, just a little over 200 years ago, doing his own ascension and enthronement: the French emperor, Napoleon. At his coronation, he took the crown out of the pope’s hands and put it on his own head, as a way of saying that he would take the place of God and the church in elevating and exalting himself. Go to his tomb in Paris today, and it’s like stepping into a sacred, solemn shrine.

It’s not so terribly foreign, either. Here’s an ascension of sorts that Becky and I saw a few years back, when we visited Washington, DC. Way up high under the cupola of the Capitol Building, we saw this painting. It depicts the ascension to heaven of George Washington,” where he also becomes a god. And for the same reason as Napoleon and some of the Caesars: because he too was so victorious in battle, business and governance.

To be fair to George Washington, this painting was not his idea. He was a deist. A deist is someone who believes that there is a creator god of sorts who set the world in motion, but this god is neither interested in us, nor can we have any personal relationship with this god. A good deist like Washington would not agree to being deified. So this painting was done years after his death. Like my high school orchestra conductor often said about the composers whose works we performed, “If he were alive today, he’d roll over in his grave.”

I mention these worldly, human ascensions, so that we can better appreciate, by contrast, just whose ascension it is that we are celebrating today. Do you see how radically different is the nature of Christ’s ascension? His is not the ascension of a king who sent soldiers out to die for himself, but of the King of Kings who died on behalf of his subjects. Not a warlord who enslaved conquered and captive soldiers and subjects, he is the Lord of Lords who humbled himself, and took the form of a slave; not one who came to be served, but the Son of Man who came to serve; not a warrior whose triumphal entry was in a chariot pulled by warhorses, to the music of military bands and singing legions, but the Prince of Peace who came riding on a donkey, to the songs of children; not a conquering general who inflicted sorrow and grief wherever his legions marched, but “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” A more different ascension than the usual imperial one you won’t find than that of Jesus, the Crucified.

But just as the reasons for Christ’s Ascension are entirely different from the usual mortal, worldly versions, so are the journeys and the itineraries of both ascensions entirely different. The ascension, or apotheosis, of the Caesars was a movement from on high to even higher. The noble-born and well-connected Caesars started from the heights of privilege and power and went up from there. Contrast that with the humility, the near anonymity, and the solidarity with the poor, of Jesus Christ. The humble Incarnation of God in Christ and the glorious Ascension of Christ to his Father God, are like two parts of one and the same motion, first downward, and then upward. At Christmas we celebrate Christ bringing God and heaven down into earth and humanity; on Ascension Sunday, we celebrate Christ bringing earth and our humanity up with himself to God and to heaven. As Jesus was God’s perfect image and representation on earth, Jesus is now our perfect image and representative in heaven. He came down to offer heaven’s high priestly sacrifice on earth. He ascended to be our high priest in heaven. Not by conquering sinners and putting them to death, but by overcoming sin and putting death to death. He did so not from on high, lording it over his soldiers and his servants, crushing mortal opponents underfoot, but from beneath, as a servant who ministered to all, and washed our feet. For such love and humility, Paul says in today’s reading, “God raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.” Jesus lived what he taught: that “those who humble themselves will be exalted.” If this all sounds like an upside-down and backwards kind of ascension, the Ascension tells us that, No, it is the world that has the way to divine glory and greatness backwards and upside-down.

But as I read Paul’s words in Ephesians 1 today, the conclusion I cannot escape, as wild as it sounds, is that the Ascension of Christ is our ascension as well. The great honors and blessings bestowed on Jesus at his ascension are ours as well, Paul says, because of “the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power.  God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.” Personally, I feel exalted and ascended already just knowing that humanity’s greatest friend has been so vindicated and elevated to supreme rulership over all Creation, and not for the usual reasons people ascend to high power and position: brutality, ruthlessness, shrewdness, stirring up conflict and appealing to what is most base and fearful in us, but by reason of his love, humility, compassion, and integrity.

Paul goes on to say, “God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.” We, then, on earth, here and now, are the body of the exalted, ascended heavenly Jesus who rules over all principalities and powers. Christ sits on the throne over the universe, but the door to his throne room opens directly into every humble human heart that loves and trusts him, and every home and congregation that worships and serves him. The time we spend on this side of the door to Christ’s throne room is short; the time we shall spend sharing his throne and his crown is eternal, and for all intents and purposes, is already as good as now. As Christ himself said to John the Revelator, “To the one who is victorious, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father on his throne.”

If that sounds outrageous and unbelievable, that Christ’s Ascension is ours as well, I can see that. I don’t understand the half of it myself. How do we square such a divine and glorious destiny and identity with the often difficult lives we face, or the very normal human frustrations, dilemmas and limits that occupy our hours and our thoughts? And will all this talk of sharing Christ’s Ascension glory and status inspire us to do like the church of the Middle Ages, and to grab for Caesar’s ascension-like glory and power? Will the glory and greatness that the Ascended Christ shares with us lead us to build giant cathedrals and palaces, and have armies and inquisitions like what the state churches of Europe had?

That would be to misunderstand the glories, powers and riches that Christ ascended to take; it is to totally confuse the wealth of Christ’s throne room with that of Fort Knox, or a Swiss bank account. Paul, in today’s passage, describes the riches of Christ’s ascension, the treasures of his throne room this way: as, “the Spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe…”

Heaven’s royal riches and treasures then have nothing to do with piles of gold, and everything to do with the knowledge of God. They have nothing to do with jewels, diamonds and pearls, and everything to do with peace and with peacemaking; nothing to do with swords and standing armies, and everything to do with servanthood and solidarity between people; much less to do with imposing edifices and much more to do with edifying eternal souls and building up relationships. The trophies of Christ’s ascension are spiritual gifts for ministry and mutual aid, not the weapons and regimental banners of conquered enemies. The riches Christ gained, the spoils he took from the war of the Lamb, are relational, not military nor material. In effect, heaven’s greatest goods amount to God giving us himself, through his Holy Spirit, whom Paul here calls “the Spirit of wisdom and [of] revelation.” Such riches, crowns and thrones of heavenly glory and greatness you will find, even in the lowliest huts and hovels, even in the most squalid slums, housing projects, even prisons, in short, wherever you find faith, hope and love in Christ.

If Christ’s ascension is ours as well, here and now, what difference does that make? I can think of three things: One, is that we now look at others, each other, and ourselves, as divine royalty, at least, as royalty in training. We have never met, then, a mere mortal. Everyone we meet is someone to whom Christ offers the throne and the crown of his Ascension, to unite them with God through himself, and thus adopt into royalty. That should affect not only the ways in which we look at ourselves and others, it negates the ways we tend to evaluate others, according to their wealth, status, youth and appearance. We never know but that the very things that lead society to discount and disparage people, like aging and lowly status, heaven just might actually use as tools for shaping and unfolding our ascension destiny and identity. As Paul told the Corinthian Christians, “…we do not lose heart [because] though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” Hold us up against the world’s usual standards of glory and glamor, and we may feel like ugly ducklings in the children’s story by Hans Christian Anderson. But all the things for which the ducks had teased him– his fuzzy grey plumage and his big, awkward shape– actually amounted to a beautiful swan in the making. What that swan saw when he first glimpsed his reflection in the mirror, is like what the apostles saw, as their Lord ascended to heaven, the truth of his destiny and identity.

Likewise, if we could see each other’s souls, struggles and stories the way God does, if we could see each other’s heavenward journeys from the viewpoint of heaven, we would be much more impressed by what the most humble child of God overcomes, than by how the most exalted Caesar overcomes others. Because of Christ’s Ascension on our behalf, we have a totally different way of looking at ourselves and each other.

Secondly, the Ascension of Jesus gives us a totally different way of understanding what’s “up.” In the ascension so-called of Caesar and Napoleon and George Washington, which the poor guy never asked for, “up” means being above and higher than other mortals, in power, prestige, position and possessions. In the world, we’re up or down depending on how our power, our wealth, our worth, our looks, our status and our stuff, compare with those of other people. And so the bumper sticker that says, “Whoever dies with the most toys wins.”

But for Christians, “up” and “above” are no longer defined by the Forbes magazine list of the 50 wealthiest people, nor by the headlines, names and faces on the covers of the celebrity gossip magazines. Nor is it like that of the mother who bragged, “My son just got a new job in which he has at least 500 people under him.” She neglected to add that he was mowing the lawn at a cemetery. The Ascension tells us that our reference point for up, high, above, must only be Jesus. The force drawing us upward with him is not our love of power but the power of God’s love. Up or down only counts when it describes the content of our character, rather than of our bank accounts; it has more to do with the values we live, than the property values where we live. If any comparisons must be made, we do not compare ourselves to others, nor others against ourselves; we compare ourselves to Christ; with where and who we were before Christ, and with who we are becoming and where we are going in Christ. That is all we know of up and down. But never must we apply any such scale to each other.

Our treatment of others then is not limited merely to a matter of equality or inclusion. The immeasurably great love of Jesus Christ is equally and immeasurably great for all of us. But Christ is aiming as something even greater than equality or inclusion into the church rolls. The Ascension tells us that Jesus longs and works for nothing short of our inclusion with him on his throne. He neither grasps nor gives equality with God, but rather, our very union with God. This is the most radical kind of inclusion: our inclusion into the very life of God through Jesus, who brings us there with him in his ascension.

So, thirdly, we remember that we are celebrating Christ’s Ascension, and not Our Achievements. The glorious, royal, heavenly destiny and identity which Christ shares with us is all gift. The things for which Paul prayed, the knowledge of God, our great hope, the power of God working on our behalf, are not our own achievements or rewards. They are the spoils and trophies of Christ’s victory over Satan, sin and death. He fought for and got them for our sakes, and he longs to share them with us. We simply accept and receive them by faith. And then we fight all hell to hold on to them by the same faith, whenever the complexities and perplexities of this life seem to make a mockery of our Ascended destiny and identity.

So those imperial stories, symbols and celebrations of Caesars, emperors and presidents ascending to divine glory and greatness, as violent and vile as they are, had at least this element of truth about them: that we were created, destined and redeemed for something greater than just muddling our way aimlessly through short lives, only to die, disappear and be forgotten. But they were devilishly wrong about the nature of eternal glory and greatness, and how we achieve them. We don’t. We only receive them and reflect them as gifts from the One whose eternal glory and greatness over all things we celebrate today. That affects how we see up and down, high and low, great and paltry. That affects how we see and treat ourselves and each other. Just as Christ’s ascension crown and throne are ours as well, so is his way up to the crown and the throne, by going downward in service, love and faith.