Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matt 28:16-20 NRSV)
Reflection
In the balcony scene of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Juliet calls down to Romeo, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” These words capture something deeply human that we all recognise. To love and then to part is painful, yet strangely sweet, because love endures and there is hope of reunion. That tension helps us glimpse, in a limited way, what the disciples experienced at Christ’s ascension.
When Jesus was taken up from their sight, it might have seemed like a loss. The one they had walked with, spoken with, and loved was no longer visibly present. Yet this was not a parting like any other. It was not the sorrow of absence without hope, for Jesus had already given them a promise: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
For us too, the ascension holds both truth and comfort. There is a kind of longing — we no longer see Jesus as the disciples once did. Yet this longing is “sweet” because it is filled with certainty. Jesus promises that he has not abandoned his people. He reigns with all authority, and through the Holy Spirit he is present with us in every place and every moment.
Unlike the hidden, fragile love of Romeo and Juliet, Christ’s love sends us outward: “Go and make disciples of all nations.” His “parting” becomes our commission. We are not left behind; we are sent out as witnesses — called to reflect his love in our lives, to speak his truth, and to embody his grace.
And the wonderful thing is that we don’t do this alone. In every act of faithfulness and every word of witness, Christ himself is with us. We live in the time called the ‘now and not yet’. We live between ascension and return — not in despair, but in hope; not in absence, but in presence. For the one who has gone before us is also the one who remains with us, now and always.
The risen Jesus gathers his disciples on a mountain in Galilee. It is a moment of awe: they worship him, though some still hesitate. It is an honest picture of the Church in every age — drawn to Christ yet aware of our weakness; called to faith yet still learning to trust. And it is precisely to such people that Jesus gives his final commission: not to the perfect, but to those willing to follow.
Jesus’ call to go and make disciples is not a task reserved for a select few. It is not only for apostles, clergy, or missionaries in distant lands; it is the calling of the whole Church. Every Christian is sent. Wherever we are placed — at home, at work, in our community — we are called to live as witnesses to the gospel. Making disciples is more than sharing information; it is helping others come to know, trust, and follow Jesus. It is a way of life. We can set an example for others simply by living the way of Christ.
This is where the missionary calling of every Christian becomes clear. We are not merely to speak about Christ — we are called to reflect him. Our lives are meant to be a visible witness to the gospel. In a world marked by division, we are to embody love. In a culture shaped by self‑interest, we are to live with humility and generosity. In a world of conflict and retribution, we are to extend forgiveness. In times of uncertainty, we are to display hope. These things are not secondary to mission — they are the mission. People encounter the truth of Christ not only through what we say, but through who we are becoming.
In the opening verses of Acts, the disciples are still trying to understand the nature of Christ’s kingdom when Jesus redirects their perspective. It is no longer about their expectations but about their calling. Jesus says, “You will be my witnesses … to the ends of the earth.” In doing so, he makes it clear that the Christian life is, at its heart, a life of witness.
And we do not do this alone. Jesus promises the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit empowers us to live faithfully and to speak truthfully. Without the Spirit, our witness becomes weak or fearful. With the Spirit, even ordinary lives become instruments of God’s grace.
Then comes the moment of ascension. Jesus is lifted up, and a cloud receives him out of their sight. It might seem like a departure — but it is, in truth, he remains present with His people.
This is why the promise in Matthew’s Gospel is so vital: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” The one who sends us is the one who stays with us. The mission would be impossible if we were left alone. But we are not alone. Christ is present—guiding, strengthening, sustaining.
So what does this witnessing look like in practice?
Witnessing begins with attentiveness. We become aware that every part of life is a place of witness. There are no “neutral” spaces. In our daily routines — in our conversations, decisions, and relationships — we have opportunities to reflect Christ.
Witnessing continues with integrity. Our lives must align with the message we proclaim. Integrity strengthens us. When people see consistency — faith lived out over time — it speaks powerfully.
Witnessing grows through love. Jesus said his disciples would be known by their love. This love is patient, sacrificial, and genuine. Often it is expressed in small, faithful acts that quietly reveal the character of Christ.
And witnessing requires courage. There will be moments when we are called to speak — to give an account of the hope within us. This may feel daunting. But we remember: Christ is with us. The Spirit gives us the words, the wisdom, and the strength we need.
Above all, our witness is sustained by the presence of Christ. This is the great assurance that undergirds everything. We are not sent out into the world as isolated individuals. We are sent as those who are accompanied by the living Lord.
This presence is not limited by place or circumstance. In moments of success and failure, in clarity and confusion, in joy and struggle — Christ is with us. His presence does not remove difficulty, but it gives us strength to endure and faith to continue.
And this presence extends “to the end of the age.” The mission of the Church continues across generations, across cultures, across time. And through it all, Christ remains faithful. He does not abandon his people. He does not withdraw His promise.
We are called to live as missionary disciples in the ordinary places of life. We are called to be witnesses — not only through our words, but through our character. And we are sustained — not by our own strength, but by the abiding presence of Christ.
Therefore, let us go with confidence. Let us live in such a way that others may see Christ in us. Let us speak when called, serve where needed, and love as we have been loved. And in all things, let us hold fast to Jesus’ promise that makes this calling possible: “lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
Let’s finish on the balcony where we began with Juliet in hopeful expectation: “Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
© Robert van Oort 2026
Bob van Oort 