Acts 1.6–14 – So when they had come together, they asked him, ‘Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?’ He replied, ‘It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.’ When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up towards heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up towards heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.’ Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

John 17.1–11 – After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, ‘Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed. ‘I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.

Sermon

In the days between Ascension and Pentecost, we find ourselves in an unusual place. The risen Christ has now ascended to the Father. Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descends to us, has not yet arrived. The disciples are waiting. Praying. Wondering what comes next.

Perhaps you know what waiting and not knowing what comes next feels like. Indeed, I think many of us know what it feels like to live in between things. Between endings and beginnings. Between uncertainty and clarity. Between prayer and fulfilment. Between what God has done and what God might be about to do.

The disciples in our reading from Acts are standing in precisely that place. Jesus has ascended from their sight. The angels tell them not to stand looking into heaven forever, and so they return to Jerusalem. And what do they do there? They pray. Not strategically. Not triumphantly. Not with some perfect understanding of what’s gone on. They simply gather together faithfully and devote themselves to prayer.

It is our gospel reading from John that helps us understand how they are able to do that. Because in John 17 we overhear something extraordinary: Jesus praying for his disciples.

This chapter of John’s gospel is sometimes called the High Priestly Prayer. It comes just before Jesus goes out into the garden at Gethsemane, before his arrest and crucifixion. In other words, these are among the last words Jesus speaks before the cross. And remarkably, he spends those moments praying not for himself alone, but for those whom the Father has given him.

“I am asking on their behalf.” There is something deeply moving about Jesus’ words. The disciples are confused. Before long they will fail Jesus, scatter, deny him, abandon him. They do not fully understand who he is or what lies ahead. And yet Jesus prays for them lovingly and faithfully. Not once do we hear irritation in his voice. Not once does he speak as though the disciples are a disappointment. Instead, he entrusts them to the Father’s care.

“Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” That prayer really matters because the disciples are about to face a world that will test them. The protection Jesus speaks about is not protection from difficulty or suffering. After all, many of those disciples will go on to endure persecution and martyrdom. Rather, Jesus prays that they will be kept faithful. Kept united. Kept within the life of God.

And perhaps that is important for us to hear too. We sometimes imagine that faithfulness becomes easier once we have enough certainty, enough confidence, enough answers. But the disciples do not have those things yet. At this point, they are still waiting. Still uncertain. Still praying together in an upstairs room. And yet Jesus already calls them his own.

That is one of the great comforts of this passage: the security of Christ’s Church does not ultimately rest upon the strength of the disciples; it does nor rest upon our strength; it rests upon the faithfulness of Christ. The Church exists because Christ holds it, prays for it, and entrusts it to the Father.

That matters in every age, but perhaps especially now. We live in a time when the Church often feels fragile. We worry about numbers of the faithful and of our resources. We sometimes feel uncertain about the future. Society itself is increasingly fragmented and anxious. And into that reality comes the prayer of Jesus: “Holy Father, protect them… so that they may be one.”

Notice that unity sits at the heart of Christ’s prayer. Not uniformity. Not everyone becoming identical. The disciples themselves were certainly not identical people. But they were called into a shared life rooted in God.

Christian unity is not about always agreeing with one another or avoiding conflict. It is about sharing together in the life and love of God himself. The unity of the Church is meant to reflect something of the unity between the Father and the Son.

And that means unity is not a superficial thing. Crucially, it means that unity is God’s gift to us before it becomes our holy work. Every act of patience. Every moment of forgiveness. Every refusal to caricature or dismiss another person. Every decision to remain together when it would be easier not to; all of these become part of the answer to Christ’s prayer. Because unity is not something we manufacture by ourselves. It is something we are continually drawn back into by God’s grace.

And perhaps that is why the disciples, after the Ascension, devote themselves to prayer. Prayer keeps them together. Prayer teaches them dependence upon one another. Prayer creates space for the coming of the Spirit. Before the Church can become active, it first must become prayerful.

That is striking because we often prefer activity to waiting. We want plans, movement, visible progress. Yet these days between Ascension and Pentecost remind us that the Church is not sustained simply by energy or efficiency. The Church lives by remaining close to Christ. And that closeness is sustained through prayer.

Not polished prayer. Not impressive prayer. Just faithful prayer. The kind of prayer that says: “Lord, we do not fully know what comes next. But we are still here. Still listening. Still waiting upon you.”

And perhaps that is where these readings meet us today.

Some of us may be carrying uncertainty. Some may feel caught between stages of life. Some may be waiting for guidance, strength, healing, or hope. The good news of this Sunday is that Christ prays for his people even in the waiting.

Before the disciples preach, before Pentecost comes, before the Church bursts into life, Jesus already holds them in love. And he holds us too. The ascended Christ has not abandoned his Church. He intercedes for it still.

And so, like those first disciples, we continue together: praying, waiting, trusting, and learning again that our life rests safely in the hands of God.

Amen.