The Ascension of Jesus is one of those parts of the story that often gets skipped over. We celebrate His birth with lights and music, His death and resurrection with Good Friday and Easter Sunday services, and we even mark Pentecost as the day the Spirit came. But the moment when Jesus ascended into heaven? That one tends to slide under the radar.

And yet, it’s a huge part of the story. Not just because Jesus physically left the earth, but because of what that moment set in motion—and what it still means for us right now.

Luke’s Gospel ends with a scene of blessing. Jesus leads His followers to Bethany, lifts His hands, blesses them, and then He’s taken up into heaven. The disciples are left staring at the sky, probably blinking in disbelief, until angels show up and ask, “Why are you standing here looking into the sky?” (Great question, honestly.)

But the story doesn’t stop with an upward gaze. It continues in Acts, where we learn that Jesus appeared to His followers over forty days, speaking to them about the Kingdom of God. And then, again, He’s taken up—only this time, with a promise: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses.”

Here’s where it gets interesting.

When we picture the Ascension, it’s easy to imagine Jesus floating into the clouds like some kind of heavenly rocket launch. But what’s actually happening is far deeper than a physical exit. Jesus didn’t just go somewhere—He took His place. A throne, not just in the sky, but in heaven. A place of authority, where He sits at the right hand of God, still alive, still active, still speaking.

That’s the part we can miss if we’re only looking up into the sky.

Jesus didn’t disappear. He took His seat. And from that place, He fills everything with Himself. His story isn’t finished. In fact, it’s expanding—through us.

When Stephen, the first Christian martyr, was being stoned, he looked up and saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. That vision didn’t make the suffering disappear—but it gave Stephen a strength that shook the people around him. His face shone like an angel. Not because everything was fine, but because he saw Jesus—present, powerful, alive.

That same Jesus is still present. Not walking beside us physically like He did with the disciples, but living in us through His Spirit. That’s what the Ascension made possible. Jesus went so the Spirit could come. He moved from one place at one time to all places at all times.

When Mary met the risen Jesus in the garden, she wanted to hold on to Him. But He said something unexpected: “Don’t cling to me.” Not because He didn’t love her, but because He didn’t want her to hold Him to the past. He was preparing to do something new. He was about to take His place so that He could be with her—and with all of us—in a new and deeper way.

That moment speaks to us too. How often do we try to hold on to what Jesus was, instead of leaning into who He is now?

Because of the Ascension, we don’t just read about Jesus—we hear Him. Ephesians 4 says that when He ascended, He gave gifts to His people. Apostles, prophets, teachers—not to be celebrities, but to equip everyday people for a life shaped by Christ. Through His Spirit, He still teaches. He still speaks. Not just words about Him, but words from Him.

Have you ever had that moment where Scripture suddenly feels alive? A verse you’ve read a hundred times suddenly lands in a way that feels personal—timely—like Jesus is speaking straight to your heart. That’s not your imagination. That’s Him.

He still speaks.

Listening, though, takes intention. Distractions are loud. Life pulls us in every direction. But Jesus is patient. He continues to speak—through His Word, through His Spirit, and even through us. He knows we’re still growing, still learning—and He trusts us anyway.

That’s humbling.

To be His witness is to live in dependence on Him. It’s trusting that His presence is enough, even when we feel unsure. It’s showing up with what we’ve been given, believing that He’ll fill the space with His power.

Sometimes we see answers in the moment—like Elisha’s servant in Dothan, whose eyes were opened to a heavenly army all around him. Other times, it’s more like Joseph, praying from a pit and waiting years to understand the purpose. Same place. Same God. Different timing.

But Jesus is still writing the story. Still seated in authority. Still working all things together—even in the quiet, even in the waiting.

So what do we do with the Ascension?

We lift our eyes. We remember who’s on the throne. We welcome the Spirit—not just once, but again and again. We let our lives become listening posts, places where heaven touches earth, where the Kingdom shows up through grace, truth, and love.

Because He ascended… and still speaks.