Ascension (A) + Are you running with me, Jesus? + 5.24.20

(My Lord Jesus, Jesus Mafa)

M. Campbell-Langdell

All Santos, Oxnard

(Acts 1:6–14; Psalm 68:1–10, 33–36; St John 17:1–11)

“I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one (John 17:9-11).”

These words of Jesus seem so sweet here, so full of love for the disciples and all his beloved followers. And they make me think of the personal relationship Jesus has with each of us.  At the moment of anointing during baptism, we proclaim the baptized “marked as Christ’s own forever” and we welcome them into the family of God. The disciples would have definitely felt like family with Jesus, having left homes and employment to follow him.

But for many of us, it is rare to feel such a moment of closeness, true intimacy, with God.
I think to felt a bit of what that must feel like, to feel such closeness with Jesus, as if with a bosom friend, last summer when we journeyed to Manoppello, Italy.

We arrived there because of the words of a book that spoke of this amazing image of Jesus that really made it look like the observer was really seeing Jesus, not just a representation of him. We entered the town after quite a misadventure, continuously missing the tight hairpin right turn and going around the same countryside and houses for hours in the rain before the kind hotel staff-person – Emmanuelle he was called! Actually drove out to our location to guide us to the pilgrimage hotel next to the church. Once settled, after being saved by our aptly named Emmanuelle, we wandered into the church and I for one just began to cry seeing the image of Jesus. Not copious tears. Those of you who know me I am not a big crier. But the feeling that washed over me was of coming home to seeing my Savior. To feeling close to him in a new way.

Ever since that experience at Manoppello I have been wearing the rosary bracelet I bought there for a few euros with a tiny reproduction of the image on it. It broke the other day, and I restrung it, adding one small item – a heart – to the cross and the rosary beads. The heart to say that my heart it swith Jesus, and that every time I feel it is too much, I look at that subtly smiling face and know that he has my back. He is saying “I got you.” Not just in this passage, but in his very being.

As we celebrate Ascension Sunday today, we celebrate the moment when Jesus went to prepare a place for us. And that is a promise. He’s got us. His Spirit guides us in this world and he will welcome us in the next.

Jesus has got us. But not just me personally, or you personally. Jesus is standing behind anyone feeling alone in this world, or embattled.
Jesus runs with the black man who is scared to exercise outside after what happened to Armaud Arberry and so many others. Jesus is with the mother facing postpartum depression and further isolated during these times. And with so many more.

Episcopal Priest Malcolm Boyd wrote a book back in 1965. It is called Are You Running With Me, Jesus? And many of his questions seem apt today. In the mid 1960’s things were unsettled. Our ideas about God were being challenged, and society was changing. To some, God seemed dead, but it was really how we understood God that was changing. We might say similar things about our experiences today. Everything seems tossed up, a lot less certain and secure even than it might have seemed in January, which is not saying a lot!

And we must believe that Jesus is running with us.

In his book, Boyd says:

“I’m crying and shouting inside tonight, Lord, and I’m feeling completely alone.

The moment is all that matters; the present moment is of supreme importance. I know this. Yet … I want to anchor myself in the past and shed tears of self-pity. When I look ahead tonight, I see futility, pain and death….”[1]

How many of us have thought something similar at times recently?

Boyd also says:

“Where am I running? You know these things I can’t understand. It’s not that I need to have you tell me. What counts most tis just that somebody knows, and it’s you. That helps a lot.

So I’ll follow along, okay? But lead, Lord. Now I’ve got to run. Are you running with me, Jesus?”[2]

Are you running with me, Jesus? Are you walking alongside me, or there as I make another Zoom or phone call? I know you are.

We know he is. Because he said so. He is going to prepare a place for us. And until then, his Spirit will never leave us, nor forsake us. And that helps a lot.

Amen.

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[1] Malcolm Boyd, Are You Running With Me, Jesus? Excerpts found here: https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/2847/cec311fab5c41a2331c4812dd8661d8c8284.pdf.

[2] Ibid.