Significant Simplicity (Luke 24:48-53)

My father worked in highway construction for fifty years. Beginning when he was a teenager and continuing until he was almost seventy, Dad helped build roads all over the state of Indiana.

He loved his job.

Dad’s love for what he did helped me appreciate that roads are so much more than a way to get from Point A to Point B.

Roads are storytellers.

Sometimes the stories are about how the road was made–the slopes, the drainage, the width of the shoulder—but take a ride with my dad anywhere south in Indianapolis and you’re most likely to hear the road tell tales of hidden sinkholes and springs that slowed a project’s progress, engineering challenges that had to be met, long lost historic sites that required roads to be rerouted, and memorable work site shenanigans.

You’ll also hear about the colorful cast of characters Dad met on the road. Co-workers, gas station owners, nice old farmers, mean old farmers, criminals, crime victims, law enforcement, hitchhikers, and stranded drivers—when I was growing up, Dad seemed to know just about everyone who passed through, broke down in, or from Southern Indiana.

Throughout my life, I’ve known people who are into cars, or travel, or even kitschy roadside attractions, but I’ve never known anyone who was into the roads themselves like my dad.

Dad’s influence must’ve predisposed me to connect with the idea that the spiritual life is a journey, a roadtrip even, because I’ve always found that to be a meaningful and useful way to talk about Faith.

In fact, of all the quotations, lines, and lyrics rattling around in my head, several of those that resonate with me the most speak of the spiritual path we travel throughout our lives. There are the opening lines of Dante’s Inferno, for example.

Midway along the journey of our life

I woke to find myself in a dark wood,

for I had wandered off from the straight path. (I.1-3)

There’s Robert Frost’s preferred path.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. (The Road Not Taken)

And there’s the way the hymn “Marching to Zion” compares God’s grace to the bounty and beauty of a lush and verdant landscape.

The hill of Zion yields a thousand sacred sweets,

before we reach the heavenly fields,

or walk the golden street.

My affinity for talking and thinking about the spiritual life in ways like these, with images likes these, leads me to receive the choir’s anthem for this service with open arms.

“The Road Home” is a piece composed by Scott Paulus with lyrics written by Michael Dennis Browne that speak “eloquently about "returning" and "coming home" after being lost or wandering.

Accordingly, the song’s first verse brings to mind the times in our own lives when, either because of choices we made or the impact of circumstances upon us, we lost our way.

Tell me, where is the road

I can call my own,

That I left, that I lost,

So long ago?

All these years I have wandered,

Oh, when will I know

There's a way, there's a road

That will lead me home?

Browne recalls that he was thinking about his sister–who was ill–and his home country– which he had not visited in some time–when we wrote these words, but a sign of the song’s power is that it’s accessible to listeners from numerous emotional paths, not just those that mirror the writer’s own.

He notes,

What I was looking for was a significant simplicity, something memorable and resonant and patterned, but not as complex as poems can often be, need to be; I wanted something immediate. Little by little, the words came. I thought of the speaker as a persona rather than myself, though of course there needed to be a “personal vibration” to it…. I was also trying to suggest the consolation that can come to someone of faith, in times of great stress, as a result of prayer and an abiding belief in divine mercy.

Verse three speaks about that consolation and expresses the promise of divine mercy that helps us make the connection between “The Road Home” and the story of Jesus’ Ascension.

This is how Michael Dennis Browne concludes the song.

Rise up, follow me,

Come away, is the call,

With the love in your heart

As the only song;

There is no such beauty

As where you belong:

Rise up, follow me,

I will lead you home.

While the scripture depicts the Ascension of Jesus as a miracle–as something literally out of this world–it shares “a significant simplicity” with “The Road Home.”

In the forty days following his resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples on numerous occasions. He broke bread with them. He spoke with them. He taught them many things about the Kingdom of God. And then one day, he ascended to Heaven.

In the words of our opening hymn, “Christ, awhile to mortals given, reascends his native heaven.”

Both books in the New Testament written by Saint Luke describe the Ascension. It was such an important moment for Luke that it actually connects the two.

Luke’s Gospel ends with the Ascension and the Book of Acts begins with it.

We read the Gospel account this morning.

[Jesus said,] You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised, so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high."

Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God. (Luke 24:48-53)

The account in Acts is very similar, with one notable addition.

It’s there that Luke tells how the moment so overwhelmed the disciples, that two angels had to give them a little nudge to get moving again. (Acts 1:9-11)

And I think that’s great, because in both accounts, Luke lets us know that while this amazing, incredible, holy thing happened, the practical importance of the Ascension was that the disciples could still count on God’s love and gracious presence to guide them in the ways that they should go.

The power of the story before us today, you see, isn’t merely that this amazing, incredible, holy thing happened to Jesus.

The power of the Ascension story is that because this amazing, incredible, holy thing happened, we, as his followers, can live our lives with greater clarity regarding what’s important, what matters most, and where we are going.

Luke tells us that Jesus led the disciples to Bethany and blessed them there, and in that blessing their next step became clear. That day they joyfully went back to Jerusalem where, in time, the Holy Spirit moved upon them, their next step became clear, and the Church was born. That’s the Pentecost story. We’ll talk about that next week.

And other steps followed, steps that took them to new places where they met new people, yet steps that were centered in the same love and grace they always experienced in Jesus’ presence.

Even when the road they travelled was tough, the conditions fierce, and enemies seemed to be waiting in ambush, the Lord’s promises held true.

“My grace is sufficient for you,” said the Lord. (2 Corinthians 12:9).

And it still is.

Rise up, follow me,

Come away, is the call,

With the love in your heart

As the only song;

There is no such beauty

As where you belong:

Rise up, follow me,

I will lead you home.

Many paths have brought us to this place, many more will lead us from here, and at this moment, we have a lot of feelings about the next steps we need to take.

It’s graduation season and the school year is starting to wind down, so there’s a nervous excitement in the air as some of us and the people we love make steps into new beginnings in new places.

At the same time, in this era when the unprecedented has become commonplace, many of us feel that the conditions on the road we’re travelling are changing so quickly that we’re struggling to see where we’re going at all and paths that once seemed clear and secure now seem a bit more treacherous.

And then, among us, around us, and even within us, there are places when the journey has taken its toll and we are scared to death about what’s around the next corner.

Tell me, where is the road

I can call my own,

That I left, that I lost,

So long ago?

All these years I have wandered,

Oh, when will I know

There's a way, there's a road

That will lead me home?

Wherever you are today, you need to hear the significant simplicity of this promise.

“My grace is sufficient for you,” says the Lord, and there's a way, there's a road, that will lead you home.

Thanks be to God for this Good News. Amen.

Image: Photo by Sitraka at https://unsplash.com/photos/grey-concrete-road-Imm-26ExCTs. Free to use under the Unsplash License