A Gentle Farewell
There’s a moment most of us know well—the moment when someone we love leaves.
It could be a child heading off to college, standing at the gate in an airport, waving goodbye through glass. It could be a dear friend moving to another city, or a parent slowly slipping from this life into the next. These are moments of stillness, moments of heartache, moments where time seems to freeze. You stand there. And everything in you wants to hold on. You replay memories. You whisper prayers. You feel the ache of letting go.
This is where we meet the disciples on Ascension Day. In a moment of both wonder and loss. A moment filled with blessing, but also the beginnings of goodbye. Jesus had been with them for three years—teaching, healing, walking beside them through storms and crowds, meals and miracles. Then came the horror of the cross. The grief. The silence of the tomb. But God wasn’t finished. Jesus rose, and for forty days, He walked with them again. Ate with them. Taught them.
And just as they were beginning to hope again that maybe this was how it would always be—that Jesus would stay—He leads them out to Bethany. He lifts His hands in blessing. And He leaves.
He ascends.
It’s a profoundly human scene. They watch Him go—gazing upward, hearts full, maybe confused, maybe stunned. It is as if they’re children again, watching a parent walk away down the road, unsure of what to do next. They feel the same thing we do when someone we love departs: a mixture of gratitude and sorrow, of faith and uncertainty.
The Gospel of Luke says Jesus “parted from them and was carried up into heaven.” But notice this: they returned to Jerusalem with great joy. Not sadness. Not paralysis. Not despair but joy. How?
Because Ascension is not about Jesus leaving in the way we think of absence. It’s not about abandonment. It’s not about distance. It’s not even really about goodbye. Ascension is about transformation—about Jesus taking His rightful place at the right hand of the Father so that He might fill all things. So that the Spirit could come. So that He could be with everyone, everywhere—not limited to one body in one place, but present through the Church in every corner of the earth.
In Acts 1, we see Jesus preparing them for this. He tells them:
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses… to the ends of the earth.”
Jesus does not ascend to escape the world, but to empower His followers in the world.
He doesn’t leave to end the story, but to launch it—to hand it over to those He loves, those He has taught and shaped and called. And yes, the disciples are caught in that very human moment, staring into the sky, maybe hoping He’ll come right back down. And then the messengers appear:
“Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
In other words: Don’t get stuck looking at what was.
There’s work to do now. There’s a mission unfolding.
God is not done yet.
Ascension is a call to grow up in faith. To move from dependence to empowerment. To move from following Jesus physically, to becoming His hands and feet. To stop waiting passively and start living purposefully. It’s a bit like when a parent drops a child off at school for the first time. There are tears, hugs, uncertainty. But at some point, the child has to step inside. And the parent walks away—but their love doesn’t go with them. It stays. It grows. It takes root.
That’s what’s happening here.
Jesus blesses them and goes—not to abandon, but to entrust.
And yet, Ascension isn’t just about mission. It’s also about hope. Because Jesus doesn't just vanish.
He ascends. That means He reigns. He rules. He isn’t gone—He is exalted. He is enthroned above all things. And that changes how we live.
When evil seems strong—He is stronger.
When the world feels chaotic—He is still Lord.
When grief overwhelms us—He is preparing a place for us.
And He will come again.
That’s the final promise of the angels:
“This Jesus… will come in the same way you saw Him go.”
But what about us? What about the goodbyes we’ve had to say? Maybe it was a move to another city.
Maybe it was a loved one going off to school, into the military, or starting a new life elsewhere.
Or maybe it was the hardest goodbye—when someone you love passed away. Goodbyes can hurt.
They leave a space in our heart. We often don’t feel ready. We want more time, one more hug, one more moment.
The disciples must have wondered, “What do we do now?”
But Jesus did not leave them with nothing. Before He ascended, He reminded them:
“You are witnesses… I am sending you what my Father promised… You will be clothed with power from on high.” In other words: “I may be going, but I am not leaving you alone.”
And the same is true for us. And here is something beautiful: The ones we love who have left us—whether in death or distance—are not truly gone. Their presence lingers in us. We carry them with us in our stories, in our values, in the small everyday things they taught us. We live the lessons they lived.
We speak the kindness they once offered us. We make decisions shaped by their love and wisdom.
In this way, they live on—not just in memory, but in how we continue the journey.
Just as the disciples carried forward Jesus’ love and mission, we also carry forward the goodness of those who shaped us. We honor them not only by remembering them, but by becoming more like them in the best ways they showed us.
So how do we deal with our goodbyes? We do it like the disciples did: With faith, knowing Jesus is alive and reigning. With trust, believing the Spirit is with us. With purpose, knowing that we are called to continue what Jesus began—loving others, sharing hope, walking in peace. And maybe even with joy—even if it’s a quiet, tearful joy—because we know that goodbye is never the last word with God.
Jesus’ ascension doesn’t mean He left us. It means He went ahead of us—preparing a place, sending His Spirit, and calling us to follow Him—wherever we are, even through sorrow.
So today, if your heart is carrying a goodbye, remember this:
Jesus knows what it means to leave and to be left. But He also knows how to give us peace and strength for the road ahead.
The Spirit still comes. Christ still sends. And the blessing still lingers.
So don’t be afraid of the goodbye. Because Jesus’ departure was not the end. It was the beginning of something bigger, deeper, and more beautiful than we can imagine. And one day, we will see Him again -we will see our loved ones again - not in a vision, not in the clouds, but face to face, in glory.
Until then, we go.
With joy.
With power.
With memory.
And with His blessing. Amen
