When Jesus Ascended to Heaven (And Why It Matters to You)

Every year, right around the time you’re just starting to forget what you gave up for Lent, the Church presents us with the glorious mystery of the Ascension of Jesus. It tends to occur quietly—a pivotal event between Easter and Pentecost—and before you know it, Christ has ascended.

But what is the Ascension? And why should a regular Catholic (someone who’s just trying to make it to Sunday Mass without a coffee spill or toddler meltdown) care?

Let’s break it down in a way that makes sense if you’ve ever experienced spiritual dryness, stared into the sky for answers, or just wondered, “Wait—where did Jesus go?”

So… What Is the Ascension?

    Picture the final scene in a superhero movie—but instead of a cape, Jesus has nail marks, and instead of vanishing into space, He ascends bodily into heaven in front of His friends.

    According to Acts 1:9, “He was lifted up, and a cloud took Him from their sight.” That’s it. No fireballs, no angels playing trumpets (yet). Just Jesus, entering into glory, concluding His visible earthly ministry.

    This wasn’t a mere disappearing act, but the completion of His mission. After rising from the dead and spending forty days preparing the disciples, Jesus returned to the Father—not to leave us, but to be with us in a new and profound way.

    The Awkward In-Between

      Let’s be honest: if I saw someone float into the sky, my next move would not be theological reflection. It would probably be asking, “Now what?”

      That’s where the disciples were. For ten days between the Ascension and Pentecost, they were in limbo. Jesus was gone (visibly). The Holy Spirit hadn’t arrived (yet). No wonder they just stood there looking up until an angel basically said, “Why are you staring? He’ll be back.” (Acts 1:11, paraphrased.)

      And maybe you’re in a spiritual “in-between” season too—where God feels distant, prayer feels like a voicemail, and hope feels like something for holier people. But take heart: even the Apostles had to wait.

      Jesus Didn’t Abandon Us (He Elevated Us)

        We tend to think of Jesus’ Ascension as Him “leaving.” But here’s the reality: He didn’t leave to abandon us. He ascended to draw us upward, to elevate our humanity. As the Catechism states, Christ’s humanity entered into divine glory (CCC 659)—and He brought our humanity with Him.

        Jesus didn’t just open the door to heaven; He held it open and propped it with His resurrected body. He is seated at the right hand of the Father—interceding for us, advocating for us, and sending us the gift of grace, the very life of God, like a fountain of divine love.

        What We’ve Got While He’s “Gone”

          Jesus didn’t abandon the Church. He left us tools for the mission:

          • The Eucharist – He may not walk beside us as He did in Galilee, but He’s still with us—body, blood, soul, and divinity—under the humble appearances of bread and wine.
          • The Holy Spirit – The Ascension sets the stage for Pentecost. Jesus says, “It is better for you that I go, so that the Advocate will come to you” (John 16:7). That Advocate? The Holy Spirit, who doesn’t just walk with us—He dwells in us.
          • His Mother – The Apostles didn’t wait alone. Mary was with them, just as she is with us. She’s the one who reminds us to keep praying, offering us her example of faith and interceding on our behalf.

          Why It Matters (a Lot)

          Christ the King meme
          Jesus is the King of the Universe. He sits at the right hand of God the Father.

            The Ascension isn’t just a cool theological event buried in Acts 1. It’s a promise rooted in the Paschal Mystery.

            • That Jesus reigns in glory. (His kingship is not of this world, but transforms our understanding of authority and service.)
            • That we have an intercessor who understands human pain. (He kept His scars.)
            • That our future isn’t down here forever. (Heaven is real—and He’s preparing a place for us.)
            • That the Church has work to do. (“Go and make disciples of all nations”—and perhaps even your neighbor who thinks you’re weird for praying the Rosary.)

            When You Feel Spiritually Stuck Between Clouds

            Prayer
            Pray unceasingly, even when you don’t feel God’s presence.

              If you’re like me, the Ascension might feel less like a mountaintop and more like a foggy plateau. You believe, but it feels dry. You show up to Mass, but you feel… meh. Good news: the Apostles were right there too. And what did they do?

              They prayed. Waiting became their act of faith. In community, they stayed together. And through it all, they trusted that the One who rose and ascended hadn’t left them alone.

              You don’t need to feel extraordinary to be called to holiness. We are all called to holiness, and we strive towards it through God’s grace and our commitment to virtue. You just need to keep looking up—because the same Jesus who ascended will come again in glory.

              TL;DR — The Simple Catholic Version

              Jesus ascended to heaven. Not to ditch us, but to elevate us. He’s still with us—especially in the Eucharist. He sent the Holy Spirit to guide us. He gave us His Mother to encourage us. And He’s coming back. Until then: don’t just stare at the sky. Live as people of faith—because heaven is real.

              Want to go deeper? Crack open Acts 1 and John 14. Or better yet, swing by Adoration. Jesus may have ascended—but He hasn’t left the tabernacle.

              And if you’re feeling stuck in the in-between, you’re not alone. God is with you. Always.

              Thank you for sharing!

              God of Surprises—Turning the Greatest Murderer of His People into His Greatest Evangelizer

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              According to Luke 5:26, “Then astonishment seized them all and they glorified God, and, struck with awe, they said, ‘We have seen incredible things today.’” From the onset of Jesus’ ministry the followers of Jesus become astonished at his works. As a perfectionist and control-freak, my natural inclination is to seek regularity and pattern in daily living. While I enjoy reading about sudden plot twists from the comfort of my armchair, I did not handle tons of surprises in my life well.

              Most choices I make only occur after being carefully calculated and thought out. Today started no differently. Always planning ahead, I woke up quickly going over the list of my agenda for the day: get breakfast ready for the wife and kids, take my son to school, exercise, take younger kids to library, get more cereal—this perhaps was the most important as to avoid a meltdown from my 4 year old tomorrow morning— and finally drop the kids off at daycare before going to work. WHEW! If I was not already tired I am now after writing that sentence! Hopefully, you have not grown weary yet. My daily routine planted its grip on me which grants me stability, but the downside is I am not as open to wonder and awe as easily.

              Control freak.png

              The paradox with seeking complete control of your life is that anxiety seems to follow close behind. Although I had a productive day errand-wise when it came to writing this article I initially hit a roadblock. Anxiety set in. What to write about? How would I be able to compose engaging material without being forceful in my thoughts? The words of St. Paul came to assuage my concerns. He proclaimed, “”Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7). Paul of Tarsus’ conversion story always appealed to me.

              Throughout this week I thought a lot about the surprising [and questionable] reasoning of God to select a former mass murderer to serve as his primary evangelizer in the early Church. See the thing about God’s will and plan is that it goes above man’s mere superficial gaze. The God of Paul, the Divine Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, is a being of great surprises. God surprised me today When I looked up the daily Mass reading for April 17th,[today!] I almost stood up from my desk in awe! The first reading for Tuesday of the Third Week of Easter comes from Acts 7:51-8:1A—the stoning of Stephen. Stephen’s murder represented the height of Saul’s sin. I truly do not believe my ponderings on St. Paul were mere coincidence. God planted a desire in my heart—the same day that the Mass readings were about his past failures!—to look to Paul’s journey toward conversion as a testament of Divine Mercy.

              Divine-Mercy-Sunday

              Among the most sinister characters in the New Testament, Saul led the assault against Christians. However, at the end of the Acts of the Apostles the same individual goes by the name Paul, became a household name in the early Church, and preaches through the ancient world the Good News of Jesus Christ. How is that possible? Answer: The God of the Universe loves to surprise. The plot twist involving the former persecutor of Christians is just one example of God’s mysterious, yet amazing plan of salvation.

              The pride and self-righteousness of Saul prior to his conversion speaks directly to my own struggles with hubris and judgmental attitude towards others of different backgrounds. Acts 9 contains the conversion story of Saul. Traveling to Damascus, a bright light from the sky blinds him and Saul falls to the ground. Receiving temporary blindness for three days, the Lord moves in the heart of Saul during his period of darkness. After being healed from his blindness, Saul is baptized and takes the new Christian name of Paul—and the rest of the story is history.

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              Does your own pride cause myopia in your spiritual life? Are you in a place in your life where it would not be a bad thing to be knocked off the high horse of hubris? Have past actions caused innocent people to suffer? These are questions I reflect on today— and need to regularly ponder—as I sojourn through life. Am I currently Paul? Or have I acted like a Saul lately?

              St. Maria Faustina detailed this truth about God’s mercy in Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska: Divine Mercy in My Soul, “A soul does not benefit as it should from the sacrament of confession if it is not humble. Pride keeps it in darkness. The soul neither knows how, nor is it willing, to probe with precision the depths of its own misery. It puts on a mask and avoids everything that might bring it recovery” (113, page 63). I would not be surprised if the memory of St. Paul’s conversion in Acts 9 acted as a seed planted by the Holy Spirit as the Polish saint wrote these words. God’s write a perfect story with imperfect story. St. Paul is a testament to this fact. I am given hope by learning to trust in God’s surprising and unexpected details in his plan of salvation!

              God writes straight

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              Thank you for sharing!