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August 9, 2009 | 4:00 p.m.

Calling the First Disciples:
Why Do You Stand There Looking Up?

Sarah A. Johnson
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 150
Acts 1:1–11

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In the early part of the twentieth century, the fiercest competition happening in New York City was for that of the world’s tallest skyscraper. The two men at the heart of the competition were William Van Allen, architect of the Chrysler building, and H. Craig Severance, architect for the rival project on 40 Wall Street. The pace of the competition was so intense that Van Allen’s Chrysler Building is said to have been built at a rate of four floors a week, with each of the 3,826,000 bricks all being laid manually.

At the point when each building stood close to completion, the building plans appeared to place the two structures at dead even height. Seeing that he was in danger of being unable to surpass the Chrysler Building, H. Craig Severance of 40 Wall Street, in a flurry of activity, suddenly increased the height of his project ever so slightly and publicly claimed the title of the world’s tallest skyscraper. But little did Severance know that Van Allen had a few last-minute sneaky plans of his own. While Severance was busy dancing around town publicly claiming his victory in every bar and on every street corner in town, Van Allen secretly obtained permission to construct a spire on the inside frame of the Chrysler Building, one-upping Severance’s building by only a few hundred feet. It was the perfect last-minute triumph, complete with a giant skyward-pointing spire.

Of course it wouldn’t be long (eleven months to be exact) before Van Allen’s Chrysler Building would be surpassed by New York’s own Empire State Building and, eventually, Chicago’s Sears Tower and John Hancock Center. But nevertheless the saga of Van Allen vs. Severance is one of those great stories about the fierce competition to construct some of American cities’ most famous buildings.

I also think it is a story about something that is steadfastly ingrained in our human psyche: namely, our belief that the best, most fulfilling, most valuable things in this life are found in the race to move up.

William Van Allen and H. Craig Severance were in search of the bragging rights, excitement, and prestige that were to be found at the great heights of skyscrapers, of achieving greatness by building something higher than anyone before them. But I think that each of us, whether we would articulate it this way or not, are in search of those heights of life, of the best of everything that this world has to offer. And we look for that soaring life experience by looking up—by climbing the corporate ladder, by striving to move to the upper class, seeking out upward success, all in search of those things that will fill our lives and take us to new and greater heights.

At the beginning of our scripture reading from the book of Acts, we discover the disciples right on the verge of taking their very first baby steps as witnesses to Christ. Following his resurrection, Jesus has just spent the last forty days appearing to the disciples in various capacities and preaching to them in person for the last time about what this new and liberating way of life called the “kingdom of God” is all about. And now the time has come for Jesus to ascend back into heaven, charging the disciples with living and being God’s witnesses in the world. At the beginning of Acts, the disciples are in the midst of taking those first steps in figuring out what this “life of faith” thing is all about.

It is sometimes why you will hear the book of Acts referred to as an “inter-text,” meaning “in-between text.” This book of the Bible forms a bridge between the incarnate life and work of Jesus in the four Gospels and the slightly more established post-resurrection Christian communities in the letters of Paul. The book of Act is that middle book that continues the next edition of the story as the disciples take their first baby steps on their own. The book of Acts isn’t a separate piece of writing but rather just the next edition in the story. Jesus’ time on earth following the resurrection is coming to a close, and as he ascends into heaven, the disciples must remember how to live and carry on the story of kingdom living as Jesus has taught them.

And so there they are, gathered together on some random dusty dirt road, this bunch of ordinary people who have been given this extraordinary and holy task of being witnesses to Christ, and they are all just standing there looking up. Jesus has ascended into heaven, lifted up on a cloud, and they are all standing there staring up at the sky, necks craned like a bunch of tourists on a street corner who cannot figure out which way is up.

The disciples still seem to be confused about where they are going to find this kingdom of God, this new and liberating way of life. So confused, in fact, that eventually two men in white robes, angelic types, show up and demand to know why they are spending so much time looking up into the sky.

“People of Galilee, why do you stand there looking up?” they ask. I can almost hear them filling in the rest of the conversation: Why in the world are you standing there feet glued to the ground looking up after Jesus? Don’t you remember? That isn’t where you are going to find what you are looking for.

What the disciples couldn’t have known then that you and I both know now is that 2,000-plus years later we still so often find ourselves standing on that dusty dirt road looking up into the clouds, hoping to find the way.

But the two angelic men’s question still lingers, too: “Why do you stand there looking up?” Perhaps it’s that subtle reminder that as Jesus left, he may have ascended into heaven, but Jesus’ own life, all that he did and taught, was about this strange upside-down way of living, where you love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, forgive and be forgiven more times than makes any rational sense, and where real meaning and fulfillment are not to be found looking up but when down on one’s knees in service of one another. As his last act before he was crucified, Jesus took a towel and a basin and washed his disciples’ feet, and then he commanded them to do the same for one another. This is where the heights of life are to be found, Jesus taught them; this is what kingdom living is all about.

When I was in seminary at Princeton, we were assigned to read a lot of one particular Reformed theologian by the name of Karl Barth. Barth is one of those theological superstars of our tradition, a real celebrity, and he wrote a lot (twelve giant small-print versions, to be exact) about the things in the Bible, providing further thought on all that Jesus said and did. One of the most beautiful ways that Barth talks about the work of Jesus is to say that God became incarnate in Jesus Christ, humbling himself so that humankind might be exalted—meaning that God became incarnate in the human person of Jesus Christ, taking on the form of a servant, so that we might know and experience the true heights of life. It is strange but powerful to think about how God came down so that we might know life to the fullest and highest measure. It’s a great irony to think that we might be lifted up by Jesus’ downward way.

Growing up, if I was ever feeling down or sorry for myself, my mother always used to say, “Go do something for someone else and then come back and see how you feel.” It was in part a statement that was intended to get me out of the house and thus out of her hair and in part a statement about gratitude, but I think that at its center, it was a statement intended to remind me of the truth that lasting fulfillment in this life is not about moving up from what we don’t have to what we do, but about being lifted up by a life lived for the sake of others.

Isabel Allende, whose father was president of Chile in the 1970s and who has written more than a dozen novels, said this in an interview on NPR’s This I Believe, “Give, give, give—what is the point of having experiences, knowledge, or talent if I don’t give it away? Of having stories if I don’t tell others? Of having wealth if I don’t share it? I don’t intend to be cremated with any of it! It is in giving of myself that I connect with others, the world, the divine.”

If you have had the privilege of going on a mission trip, serving on a care team for another member, helping someone else out, taking extra time to listen to someone who hasn’t been listened to in a while, you have gotten a chance to taste what it is like when we are empowered to bind our lives to the lives of others and to re-experience this strangely powerful upside-down way of living that Jesus calls us to.

It is a challenging way to think and to live—Jesus’ downward mobility, upside-down way of life—because it calls into question everything that we have been taught about where we will find meaning and lasting happiness in this life, what connects us and gives us life. And it is easy for you and me to get caught looking up in search of that fulfilling life.

Don’t get me wrong: there is great success and achievement to be found in this world. New and daring feats will be tried; people will rise to the top, expanding our world in profound ways. And I think that all these things ought to be worked toward and dreamed about and made happen.

But I also think that the choices that we make and whom and what we value have everything to do with the truly satisfying life that Jesus calls us to live.

When we share, welcome, invite, and serve with the kind of love and radical upside-down way of Jesus Christ, we will find ourselves in the deeply satisfying company of God, and that will take us to new heights that we never could have reached on our own.

All thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church