You know those moments at work when you’re staring at numbers that just won't add up, and the more you stare, the more a single, stubborn penny throws your whole day off? That was me just last week. I was knee-deep in month end accounting close reconciliation – a process that always feels like a treasure hunt, except the treasure is a perfectly balanced ledger. This particular one, though, was a beast. I had multiple bank statements, dozens of expense reports, and a stack of invoices, all needing to tie out to the penny. I'd run the numbers forwards, backwards, sideways. My eyes were blurry, my head was pounding, and that elusive penny, or sometimes dollars and cents, just wouldn't magically appear or disappear to bring everything into alignment. I was cycling through the same reports, getting more frustrated by the minute, ready to declare accounting an ancient form of torture.
I finally decided to just… walk away. Not just for the night, but for a whole weekend. I needed a complete mental reset from those spreadsheets. I promised myself I wouldn't even think about debits and credits. And wouldn't you know it? Saturday afternoon, while I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the fresh air, a simple thought popped into my head: "Check the last month's closing balance again, specifically for a single, small adjustment." It was so obvious in hindsight, yet completely invisible when I was forcing the numbers. The solution wasn't in brute-forcing the reconciliation; it was in stepping back and allowing a fresh perspective to emerge. I had found it – a miskeyed transaction from the prior period that was exactly the amount I was off by. The frustration melted away, replaced by a quiet, joyful click.
That little breakthrough, as mundane as it might seem, has been echoing in my mind this week as we approach the Feast of the Ascension. It reminds me so powerfully of the ending of Luke's Gospel, specifically Luke 24:46-53, where Jesus’s earthly ministry culminates in His departure.
Think about the disciples in that moment. They had walked with Jesus, seen His miracles, heard His teachings, and just witnessed His resurrection. Their world had been completely turned upside down, then right-side up, and then sideways again! And now, He’s telling them He’s leaving. Imagine that mix of confusion, perhaps a touch of fear, but also, as Luke tells us, "great joy." It’s like being handed the keys to a vital, world-changing organization, with the overwhelming task of "balancing the books" of humanity's redemption, just after your visionary Founder steps away.
Let's look at what Jesus shares with them before He ascends:
"He told them, 'This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.' When he had led them out to the vicinity of Bethany, he lifted up his hands and blessed them.1 And while he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God."
When I read this, I see so much that speaks to our modern human condition, that sense of overwhelm, the need for new vision, and the promise of strength, even when our own calculations fall short.
First, Jesus begins by explaining that His suffering, death, and resurrection were not random events. They were "what is written," the fulfillment of God's ancient promises. For the disciples, this provided context, a framework for understanding the seemingly chaotic events they’d just witnessed. In our own lives, when we’re feeling lost or overwhelmed by a problem that just won't yield, like a reconciliation that won't balance, it's a powerful reminder that there is a larger, divine narrative at play. Even our struggles, our "impossible" tasks, can be part of a greater purpose, leading to renewal and growth if we allow ourselves to see beyond the immediate obstacle. Just as my reconciliation needed a different perspective, our lives often need alignment with God’s overarching will.
Then, Jesus entrusts them with an incredible mission, telling them, "You are witnesses of these things," and that the message of repentance and forgiveness should be "preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." He's commissioning them, making them part of something monumental – not just balancing human accounts, but bringing about true reconciliation with God. This isn't just about their problems; it's about their role in God’s solution for the world. We, too, are witnesses. Not necessarily to the historical events of the resurrection, but to the transformative power of Christ in our own lives and in the small corners of the world we inhabit. How often do we get so bogged down in our daily grind, staring at our own ledgers of life, that we forget to see the impact we can have, the small acts of grace or kindness that point to something greater? Being mindful means actively looking for these moments and acknowledging their divine source, realizing our part in the larger story of God’s plan.
Perhaps the most striking part of the passage, especially in light of my recent accounting dilemma, is when Jesus says, "I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." And then, "he left them and was taken up into heaven." This wasn’t an abandonment, but a moment of transition and empowerment. He had to depart so that the "power from on high"—the Holy Spirit—could come. Sometimes in our lives, whether it's a complex accounting problem or a deeply personal struggle, we have to let go of our own limited understanding, our frantic attempts to control every decimal point. We have to step back and create space for God’s transformative grace. It's often in our moments of surrender, when we stop forcing the solution, that we are "clothed with power" we never knew we had, and the Holy Spirit reveals the way forward. It's like clearing out the clutter in your mental ledger so the divine insight can finally balance the books.
And what was the disciples’ response? They "worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God." Think about that. Their leader had just ascended, leaving them with an immense mission. Yet, they were filled with profound, spiritual joy and praise. This isn't superficial happiness; it's a deep contentment rooted in faith, understanding, and the anticipation of God’s promise. In a world full of anxiety, tight deadlines, and constant demands to be perfectly "balanced," finding moments to pause, to be grateful, and to praise God—even when the future feels uncertain or our own accounts don't quite square—is a deeply mindful and liberating act. It anchors us in a hope that transcends our daily frustrations and the endless pursuit of perfection.
The Ascension reminds us that our faith isn't about clinging to what was, or frantically balancing every aspect of life with just our own limited strength. It's about trusting in God’s larger plan, embracing the divine empowerment that comes when we step back, and living with a joy that’s rooted in His constant presence. Just as I had to let go of my frustration to find that elegant solution for my reconciliation, we too are called to let go of our grip on life, trusting that in His apparent departure, Christ has given us everything we need to live lives of purpose, profound hope, and surprising peace.
What "unbalanced accounts" are you wrestling with right now, where stepping back might be the key to seeing God’s hand at work? Share your thoughts in the comments below – I'd love to hear from you.