Celebrate Jesus’s Return to Heaven, Which Prepares the Way for Pentecost
In my post The Four Main Christian Celebrations, I list for holy days (holidays) that smartly recognize Jesus and succinctly outline the key elements of his life and what he did for us. These Christian holidays are:
I wonder if I should add Ascension Day to the list. It is, after all, a critical element in the arc of Jesus’s life.
What is Ascension Day?
Ascension Day occurs forty days after Resurrection Sunday (better known as Easter). On Easter Jesus rises from the dead. He spends forty days with his friends and followers to prove he is alive.
Then he gives his disciples the directive to wait in Jerusalem for a special gift—the Holy Spirit—that Papa will send (Acts 1:4). After his parting words, he ascends into heaven (Acts 1:9-11).
Out of convenience many churches acknowledge Jesus’s returned to heaven on the following Sunday, which they call Ascension Sunday—even though it didn’t happen on the first day of the week.
Ascension Day is critical, for Jesus had to return to heaven before his followers—and we—could receive the Holy Spirit. Without Jesus leaving, Pentecost couldn’t have occurred.
The Five Holidays That Commemorate Jesus’s Life
Putting these five days together reveals a sound theological understanding of the essential role Jesus plays in our faith journey. Here it is:
Jesus comes to earth (Christmas). After he spends three years to teach his disciples and talk about the kingdom of God, he dies as our once-and-for-all sacrifice to cover all the mistakes we—and everyone else throughout time—have ever made (Good Friday).
To prove he has the authority to make the ultimate sacrifice for us, he overcomes death by rising from the dead (Easter). After confirming he is alive, he returns to heaven (Ascension Day) so that we may receive the Holy Spirit (Pentecost).
Recognizing these five days as Christian holy days and celebrating these holidays reminds us each year of the essential elements of the gospel story, God’s good news to save humanity.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
Our journey is over. I’m sad and excited at the same time. Our spiritual sojourn of fifty-two churches has ended. Reunion with our home church, church 53, community looms large.
Today is Good Friday and our Easter celebration will be in two days, but I can’t wait for Sunday. I desire a preview, a reminder of our home church. I want a sneak peak of what lies ahead. We head off for our church’s Good Friday service.
Good Friday Service
This time, I leave my journal at home—on purpose. I’ll not take notes tonight. Documenting my observations isn’t the point: experience is, community is, and family is.
Especially God. I assume a packed place, arriving early to find a good seat, but there’s plenty of room when we get there. We sit and wait. I want to soak in the place. It’s been too long. I need to remember.
I don’t seek out others, but it’s not long before a friend comes up to chat, and then another, and another. With a half hour before the service starts, the minutes pass quickly, as friends fill the time with smiles, hugs, and conversation.
Some can’t believe it’s been a year, that our journey is over. But a few didn’t know we were gone. This is the downside of a larger church. Absences can too easily go unnoticed. This isn’t a lament, just an observation.
Including the balcony, the place seats 475, but the space seems small. Compared to the last two churches, it is. The worship team congregates on the stage.
Our worship leader just had wrist surgery. He won’t be playing guitar for a while, and tonight he’s restricted in what he can do.
There are two others on guitar (one acoustic and one electric), a bass guitar, a keyboard, a drummer, and two backup vocals. I recognize most of the musicians but not all.
They launch into song, with launch being the operative word. It’s loud and energetic, worship at its fervent fullest, packed with joy and abounding in celebration.
Though a few of the churches approached this, and Church #51 (The Megachurch), came close, these folks take worship to another level, being polished and Spirit-led at the same time.
People on stage jump and dance, with more movement in the congregation than I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t need to wait to feel God’s presence or seek him. Without question, he is here.
We sing for forty-five minutes and our pastor gives a brief teaching before we return to song. It’s nice to be able to raise my hands and arms without worrying over committing a faux pas that might disregard local conventions.
After ninety minutes, most with us singing, the service ends. I don’t want it to. But our spent musicians have little left to give, especially our worship leader, whose sweat-drenched shirt confirms he gave his all to God.
I stand, looking for people I don’t know so I can talk to them. My journey has made me more aware of seeking out visitors and those on the margins.
Though I spot several to approach, others are already reaching out to them. That’s what a church should do.
Now feeling free to move about, I seek out friends. It doesn’t take long. Some conversations are brief, while others go deeper. We share prayers and give hugs. A few promise to email me, and I make plans to meet another for coffee.
After half an hour, the crowd begins to thin, but it takes several more minutes for Candy and me to meander to the door.
One friend says, “Have a Good Friday,” and then questions her wording, given the sadness of Jesus’s death.
“It’s good for us!” I say. She nods in agreement.
“Besides, without Good Friday—”
“There’d be no Easter,” we say in unison.
I tarry at the door for a final conversation as the sanctuary goes dark. We’re the last to leave. After two and a half hours, I’m still not ready to go home.
But we’ll be back in two days. Tonight is a foretaste of what is to come.
Sunday Morning Easter Service
It’s Easter and we’re returning home to our church, the people we love and miss. This marks our first Sunday back since last Easter. I expect a joyful homecoming and a grand celebration: personally, corporately, and spiritually.
We arrive early to meet our kids. While our daughter and her husband attend this church, our son and his wife make an hour drive to spend Easter with us, beginning our day together at church.
My plan is to lay low today, but friends spot me as we enter the sanctuary. They’re glad to see me and I, them. They’re not sure if I’m back for good or just visiting.
They seem relieved when I confirm our adventure wasn’t a church shopping exercise and our plan all along was to return after a year.
Our reunion takes place in the aisle, and we’re blocking people, so I excuse myself and look for my family. Even arriving early, there aren’t many places left for six, but they did find a spot.
Instead of roaming around to talk with others, I sit down and soak in the ambience.
There’s nothing special about the building, except perhaps its age. Located in the central downtown district, the sanctuary is over 150 years old.
Though not in disrepair, it’s far from contemporary. Even with many enhancements, a dated feel pervades.
Our pastor welcomes everyone, telling visitors what the regulars already know: there’s no plan for the service today, only a general intent. Its length is unknown, so it will end when it ends. He reiterates that we have freedom in worship.
We may sit or stand or kneel. We may dance or move about—or not. As is our practice, the children remain with us during the service, worshiping along with the adults but often in their own way.
There will also be adult baptism later in the service. A couple of announcements appear via video. With the place now packed, he asks the congregation to move toward the center and make room for those still needing seats.
The worship team is largely the same as Friday, but they changed out a couple of members and added a violin. They start the service with a prayer and then kick off the first song.
The energy level is high, up a notch or two from Good Friday. Some of the songs are the same. Candy says most of them are repeats. She’s probably right.
After thirty minutes or more of singing, we hear a brief message. The church is in a yearlong series—I’ve kept up by listening online.
Today the lesson is about Abraham and Sarah, her scheme for her husband to produce a child through her servant, and his bone-headed acceptance of her suggestion.
Our pastor ties this in with Easter: We all make mistakes, and we all need Jesus, who offers forgiveness and provides restoration.
Our pastor requests all elders to come forward to conduct the baptisms.
The elder assigned for this service goes to the front of the church, and I join him—so much for keeping a low profile. Our fellow elders and staff assemble with us.
Easter Sunday Baptisms
Our pastor shares the basics of baptism. The rite is the New Testament replacement for Old Testament circumcision, which he touched upon in the message.
Some say baptism symbolizes the washing away of our sins, a ceremonial cleansing, which publicly identifies us with Jesus.
Other creeds say baptism by immersion portrays the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. Can’t we embrace both perspectives?
People desiring baptism may come forward as the worship team leads the congregation in more songs. Even before hearing the full invitation, one person shows up and then another. A line forms.
For many churches, baptism is a somber affair, conducted with reserved formality. Not so for us. We treat it as a celebration with unabashed enthusiasm.
Our church leader prefers baptism by immersion, but the floor of this 150-year-old building lacks the structural integrity to support the weight of a baptismal pool.
Instead, we use a traditional baptismal font, with the goal to get as much water on the recipient as possible.
I talk with the second person in line, making sure she’s there for the right reasons. With much joy, she anticipates taking this step as part of her spiritual journey. I pray for her as we wait our turn.
The music is loud, and I’m not sure how many of my words she can hear, but God understands them all, and that’s what counts.
After the other elder douses the first person, a raucous celebration erupts from the crowd, applauding and cheering her public step of faith. We’re next.
We step up to the font, and I cup water in my hands. “I baptize you in the name of the Father . . .” releasing the water over her head and then returning for more. “And the Son . . .” I get more water. “And the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
As the throng shows their approval in unequivocal terms, I hand her a towel to dry off.
There’s not much room, so I try to usher her to the side and make room for the next baptism. But she won’t budge. Her adult daughter is next. We gather around as another elder conducts that baptism.
Afterward mother and daughter share a joyous hug, while friends hover nearby to share in the jubilation.
I return to the line of candidates, talking to the next person and baptizing her as well. We baptize a dozen or so this morning—and more will happen at the next service. What a glorious Easter and the perfect time to return home.
With the baptisms complete, I remain up front as the worship team continues. I sing along while I scan the crowd. Everyone is standing, and I don’t see an empty spot anywhere, including the balcony.
Even the back looks full. I wonder if some people stood the entire service, unable to find a place to sit. After a couple more songs, the worship leader concludes the service and the crowd slowly disperses.
I rejoin my family, wanting to focus on them instead of searching for visitors and friends. We eventually make our way out after ninety minutes. Some have already arrived for the next service, which starts in half an hour.
The End of a Pilgrimage
Today is an amazing reunion, a grand celebration, and a fitting conclusion to our yearlong pilgrimage.
My wife and I visited a different Christian Church every Sunday for a year. This is our story. Get your copy of 52 Churches today, available in ebook, paperback, hardcover, and audiobook.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
Meditate on the True Meaning of Easter as a Christian Holy Day of Ultimate Importance
Every Sunday morning for several years I have shared my thoughts about God, the Bible, and the church on this blog. Because Easter always falls on a Sunday, one post a year is usually about Jesus’s resurrection.
This year’s reflection follows this same theme, yet it is also different.
This is not a new post but a nod to past Easter posts, my top entries. Together they say everything I want to say. I am most pleased with last year’s thoughts, so I lead with it:
The first entries are all past Easter posts. The last item was from last week, but its theme rightly belongs in this compilation.
When I think of Easter, I think of Jesus. Of who he is, what he did, why he did it, and who he did it for. His ultimate act of sacrificial love drives me to my knees in homage and brings tears to my eyes out of undeserved gratitude.
I love you Jesus, and I long to be with you, today and every day. May it be so.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
Easter is a celebration, not of chocolate eggs and fluffy bunnies, but of the greatest event in history. Christians everywhere know what this is, and we use big words and confusing terms to explain it.
Most people outside our circles don’t have a clue what we’re saying. Sometimes we don’t either.
On Good Friday, Jesus dies. On Easter, he is alive. But why? What does it mean?
Stripping away all the Christian jargon and inaccessible theology, here is how I see it:
We’ve all do things we shouldn’t; we’ve all make mistakes.
We deserve to be punished.
Our punishment isn’t a slap on the wrist or a timeout. Regardless of what we have done or will do, there’s only one thing on the books: death. It’s mandatory sentencing.
At our trial, Jesus stands up for us. “Oh, no, you don’t!” Murmurs go through the courtroom. “I won’t let you hurt them. Take me instead.” It is a shocking move. “Kill me; just let them go.” Wow, that’s real love.
And that’s just what happens. Jesus is executed instead of us. We get off scot-free.
This is his gift to us, the ultimate act of love, dying in place of another. As with any gift, all we need to do is reach out and take it.
But the story isn’t over. Death is not the end for Jesus. Jesus’ body doesn’t rot away in his tomb. To show the world how great he is, he comes back to life in an awesome display of power.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
We’ve Lost Christmas as a Spiritual Celebration. Let’s Not Lose Easter Too
This spring some groups have banned Easter egg hunts—not the activity but the name. Concerned pundits decry this as political correctness gone awry or the timid majority kowtowing to the vocal minority.
Although “spring egg hunt” sounds lame, this new label doesn’t dismay me. What do eggs have to do with the resurrection? Let’s remove the myth of Easter so we can focus on the meaning.
With the significance of Christmas lost to commercialization and consumerism, the reason for the Easter season could suffer the same fate. May it never be.
I’m not sure which bothers me more, chomping off the ears of a chocolate bunny or biting off the head of a chocolate Jesus. Let’s forever sever all connections between the Easter bunny, Easter eggs, and Easter candy with our Easter savior.
This week, I’ve sent many an email signing off with “…and have a great Easter.” Saying “Happy Easter” seems cliché, being too easy to voice without thinking.
It’s not that I’m a non-conformist (well, perhaps I am a bit), but I do want to point people to the true meaning of Easter: a risen savior who overcame death to give us life.
Today, may we celebrate Easter with a God-honoring, Jesus-focused passion.
Have a great Easter!
Discover more about celebrating Jesus and his passion to save us in Peter’s new book, The Passion of Jesus. It is part of the Holiday Celebration Bible Study Series.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
This week, many in the Christian community will observe Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the season known as Lent, a solemn journey towards Easter.
For some followers of Jesus, Ash Wednesday is little more than a notation on their calendar, whereas, for others, it is a meaningful spiritual holiday.
For them, it signals the beginning of a time of giving up something for Lent. This has always puzzled me.
If what is being given up is a bad trait, practice, or characteristic, then why wait for Ash Wednesday to alter our behavior? (See my post on making New Year’s Resolutions.)
And if what is being given up is a beneficial or enjoyable practice, why suffer without it?
Though I do acknowledge that this can be for the same reason that we fast, fasting is a mystery to me, albeit a beautiful one. Giving up something for Lent can have a parallel significance.
However, what bothers me about Ash Wednesday is actually what precedes it. This goes by different names, such as Fat Tuesday, Carnival, or Mardi Gras, and is often characterized by gluttonous eating or revelry and debauchery.
It’s as if a time of holy reverence can rightly be preceded by unholy depravity. That seems akin to an alcoholic intentionally embarking on one last binge just before entering rehab.
Ash Wednesday is a beautiful kick-off to a season of deep reflection, ushering in a journey to Good Friday and then Easter. But that’s not an excuse to cut loose in the days prior to it.
Discover more about celebrating Jesus and his passion to save us in Peter’s new book, The Passion of Jesus. It is part of the Holiday Celebration Bible Study Series.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
We’ve had a beautiful week here in southwest Michigan, with record highs in the low 80s for the past two days. As a consequence, I’ve been hit hard with a case of spring fever.
The last remaining pile of snow has melted—it was a huge pile, which only succumbed a couple of days ago—and spring flowers are displaying their colors. The grass is greening up and soon it will be time to mow lawn.
The high temps, however, will wane a bit today, as a cool front is arriving. That should drive the temperatures down about 20 degrees to where they should be for this time of year.
Although it would be great to enjoy 80-degree sunshine tomorrow on Easter, I can accept the prediction of partly cloudy and 60. At least there won’t be any snow, which does happen for some Easters in our clime.
Where ever you may be, and whatever weather might be sent your way, have a Happy Easter!
Discover more about celebrating Jesus and his passion to save us in Peter’s new book, The Passion of Jesus. It is part of the Holiday Celebration Bible Study Series.
Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.
