Babel gives us a picture of human unity that can only deceive, only destroy, only grind to dust—a unity of purpose that sets itself against the blessing of God, and which God, in his mercy, opposes and casts down. So, if that’s what Babel means, consider anew the greatness of God’s gift in Pentecost.

The gift of the ascension is the infinite chasm between God and man bridged. It shows us a magnification of the fellowship that we lost in Eden. And yet, this is our hope: just as Jesus rises away from earth and into the place that God dwells, we too, following him, do not just re-enter Eden but enter into the throne room of God.

Philip walked an ordinary everyday life of faith in order to be used by God in exceptional ways. We won’t always hear from angels, but the Lord speaks to us, and the call is to listen and obey. Because whoever has His commandments and keeps them, that is the one to whom Jesus will manifest himself.

In his testimony to us of himself, the first thing we see God do is speak. In the world that we live in, words are imprecise descriptors of “the real stuff” like atoms and energy and space and time. But the Bible tells us something truer and deeper than that: words matter. When God speaks, He speaks with power and with authority. He speaks and kingdoms topple. He speaks and crops grow. He speaks and the universe is made.

Jesus has ascended. The spirit has come. The exchange of lives in the Pentecost is being lived out before our eyes in this story from Acts. This is the work for all who are given the Holy Spirit — all who bear the name of Christ live out his life. He departed, but he is not gone.

Our question for today is: what does Jesus’ resurrection have to do with us? In the waters of baptism, we are buried with Christ, but today of all days, you ought to know that there is not fear in such a burial. Because the tomb in which you all were buried, Jesus’ tomb, is empty. Here’s my paraphrase: Hey you, you resurrection people: look up. Look up at Jesus enthroned in heaven. Let him and his victory be the longing of your heart and the light of your steps. In Christ, you’ve already dealt with this tomb-world and there’s nothing for you here: in fact, you’re already dead and so this world has no power over you.

Paul reminds the people of God that in all the hard places, in the burdens of subservience and the burdens of responsibility, that in the challenges of all our interpersonal relationships, we are actually called to relate in every case as if we are acting out Christ. We are caught up in the cosmic purposes of God to declare the glory of the Father through the glory of Son, by the power and the glory of the Spirit.

And so, whether you’re relating to your boss, or your parents, or your spouse, Paul wants you to remember that you’re acting out the Jesus story that the whole universe was built to proclaim. Wives and husbands, that’s about Jesus. Slaves and masters: Jesus. Children and parents: Jesus. It’s all about Jesus.

The gospel is not just that God did something for us (though he certainly did) — it’s that is did something IN us, and he’s still doing it. And that doing is a calling out of darkness and into light. It’s a reshaping of the ways we’ve become twisty so that we can be God-shaped image bearers again. And so that’s the gospel. That’s what God is doing in us and to us and for us and for Jesus. And yet the old ways, the broken ways are still right there before us. And so we have to choose, all the time, which scales will I use? Which path will I take?

"I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called." (Ephesians 4:1) Which of us feels worthy by any standard? The truth is, we are called to walk worthy of the calling. But if you hear that and feel discouraged, unworthy, and incapable, then I want to suggest to you that you haven't really heard what Paul is saying. We are called to walk with Jesus, as Paul explains here in Ephesians 4.

We are a people plagued with a deep longing for identity, meaning, and purpose. We see in the world around us (and if we look closely, in ourselves) a constant churning attempt at BEING something. We labor to define oursevles and our place in the world in a way that makes us feel connected, valuable, and significant. And the gospel comes to us in that place of longing.

Through the church God is telling his story, and for those who are in the body of Christ, the church, we are the means by which God declares his manifold wisdom.

How do we figure out what life is about through all the mundanity of living? Paul calls us to remember - what does that mean? In our own power we have no hope and no access to God, so that we can also see that in Christ— who has gone into the holy place on our behalf — we have access to the very throne room of God. Remember the futility of life without Christ so that you will not be tempted to turn away from God’s work back to your own.

Before the foundation of the world, before birds and trees and even before rocks or stars or time itself, God has this plan for you: that you should be holy and blameless. See God’s purposes lived out in Christ for us as shown in Paul’s first letter to the Ephesians.

In our Advent longings, we are called to remember that our deepest need is unity with God, and our separation from Him is due to sin and guilt we have no power to wash away. But he has rescued us. He is rescuing us. He will rescue us. Let us hope in him.

“Keep watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” What does it mean to be ready, to stay awake, to keep watch? Jesus invokes images of spirituality, lovers, oil, and which show us ways to prepare for the coming of His kingdom.

We’ve come to associate the idea of “apocalypse” with “disaster” or “the end”, but the word apocalypse actually means uncovering. And apocalyptic literature is a genre that’s means to uncover what is hidden — sometimes about the future, yes, and sometimes about the past, too, but primarily apocalyptic literature is about the hidden realities of the present.