It might have been at our little town’s parade, or maybe at the State fair, but I have a faded memory from childhood of a cart with balloons floating above it. They were bunched together like a bouquet of bright pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, and red flowers.
“Hold it tight,” my parents warned. Mom tied the string around my wrist and placed a strand of it across my palm. I tightened my hand into a fist and held the string with a death grip.
The wonder of a balloon floating above my head captivated me. It swayed in the breeze, a bright ball dancing against the blue sky. I jerked it and watched it jump. I walked back and forth and it followed behind. I waved it and it waved back.
Most of us remember that lift of a helium balloon on a string, and probably almost everyone also knows the anguish at its escape into the sky. We’ve experienced that silky string’s slithering away and its daring attempt at freedom.
We remember lifting our heads and seeing it float and twirl away, rising higher and higher. We’ve squinted against the sun, shaded our eyes, and watched it become smaller and smaller. A dot in the sky. Until it was gone. But still for a while, we searched for that last glimpse.
Easter 2026 and its connected celebrations seem a long time ago. We’ve moved on. Lent traditions, the somberness of Good Friday, and jubilation of Resurrection Day have dimmed. In fact, after Easter, we sort of pack up Jesus until Christmas holidays begin.
Hold on. Not so fast, church.
I mean, if Jesus literally rose April 5, the day we celebrated Easter this year, He would still be walking and talking on earth until Thursday, May 14.
For forty days after His resurrection, Jesus continued to prove the validity of rising from the dead which verified again and again His identity. He walked alongside his disciples, talked, ate, and even barbecued fish with them. He explained the Scriptures, gave instructions to His followers, promised and commissioned them to spread the gospel.
He appeared to over 500 at one time.
But that final glimpse and departure as He ascended into the cloud, is also part of the story.
The disciples had walked that same dirt road together with Jesus many times before. This time, after forty days, they understood so much more.
“And He led them out as far as Bethany, and He lifted up His hands and blessed them. Now it came to pass, while He blessed them, that He was parted from them and carried up into heaven.” (Luke 24:50-51 NKJV)
It is such a poignant picture, these tough men of Galilee, standing with faces upturned, squinting, looking into the sky. How tender that last blessing must have been. That final farewell, how pivotal, and purposeful.
While they watched, He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight. And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven as He went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel, who also said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will so come in like manner as you saw Him go into heaven. (Acts 1:9-11 NKJV)
This same Jesus will come again in the same way He left.This same Jesus will come again in the same way He left Share on X
Jesus predicted it before His death,
“They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.” (Matthew 24:30 NKJV)
Scripture confirms it.
For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 ESV)
The ascension visualized to every watching eye what to expect. Jesus’ forty days after the Resurrection proved again and again that He is alive, present with us, and able to save.
It is a hope that should encourage us. We are to remind each other of this glory yet to come. (1 Thessalonians 4:18 ESV)
Let’s not lose sight of it.
Someday, He will come again in the clouds. Until then, like children, we squint into the sun with hope. We look upward, but not in sorrow for what is lost, rather in joyous anticipation for the first glimpse of blinding Glory.
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