There are moments in life when we suddenly become aware of something special, something holy, not necessarily because we are standing in a church or a cathedral, but simply because something opens our eyes.
It might be a conversation that touches us more deeply than expected, a sunrise that stops us in our tracks, or a moment of kindness that arrives just when we need it. These glimpses remind us that God is not confined to holy places. He meets us in the ordinary, the everyday, the unexpected.
And yet, throughout history, people have built churches and cathedrals as signs of their longing for God. They wanted to create spaces that lifted the heart and stirred the soul. Some were built out of deep devotion, some out of civic pride, and some out of a mixture of both. But behind them all was a desire to reach towards something greater.
In today’s reading from Acts (17:22-31), Paul stands in a city full of such longing - Athens, a place overflowing with ideas, shrines, philosophies, and spiritual searching. And he speaks into that longing with a simple, profound truth: the God they seek is not distant, not hidden, not unknown. He is God who made the world, God who raised Jesus from the dead, God who is closer to us than we imagine.
And God is still drawing near to us today.
Over many centuries, churches have been built to celebrate the glory and wonder of God. Some are breathtaking in their beauty and splendour; others are simple and peaceful. Many of us enjoy wandering around them - admiring the architecture, absorbing the atmosphere, or reflecting on the history held within their walls.
But as impressive as these buildings are, they can sometimes reveal the strange mixture of the spiritual and the secular. Take Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral, for example - the largest in Britain and one of the most recent. It was built to glorify God, certainly, but also to demonstrate the power and wealth of the city. A blend of devotion and ambition, faith and civic pride.
And perhaps that mixture shouldn’t surprise us. Jesus himself moved freely between the sacred and the secular. He mixed with all kinds of people, those who believed in him, those who doubted him, and those who would never be convinced. He stepped into every corner of society, bringing God’s presence into places often where people least expected it.
Paul does the same in Athens. He notices their altars, including one dedicated “To an unknown God.” He sees their shrines and their religious practices - practices, he suggests, that are more about ritual than relationship. And into that world he introduces God who made everything, God who cannot be contained in temples or statues, God who raised Jesus from the dead.
Today is the last Sunday of the Easter season. On Thursday we celebrate Ascension Day, the moment when Jesus physically left the earth. But Ascension is not about absence. Jesus has not disappeared.
He remains faithful to his promise to be with us always, through the Holy Spirit who guides and strengthens us. And as we hear Paul’s words to the Athenians, we hear a challenge for ourselves: to remain focused on God who is alive, present, and active in our world.
Many churches and cathedrals were built with wonderful intentions, and many still serve as powerful witnesses to God. But we, the people of God, are called to glorify him not through buildings or symbols, but through our lives. Through the way we live out the gospel of love, joy, compassion, and hope. Through the way we recognise God’s presence in the everyday moments of our lives.
Our worship, our hopes, our decisions, our relationships - all must be centred on Jesus, our example and our inspiration. It is good to care for our buildings, and we are fortunate in the Church in Wales to have so many beautiful ones. But the gospel is not just about yesterday. It is about today and tomorrow. It is about proclaiming afresh the most important message of all: that Jesus is the Saviour of the world.
Our calling is to speak and to be good news for all people. To live out the example of Jesus - his courage, his wisdom, his understanding, his compassion, his welcome. A welcome that embraces all people, regardless of age, background, or story.
We often talk about wanting our churches to grow, and rightly so.
We are commanded to share the gospel in a way that draws people in, not through pressure or fear, but through lives that make Jesus too compelling to ignore.
But growth brings change. New people bring new ideas, new needs, new energy - and sometimes disruption. Just as a family changes when a new baby arrives or when an elderly relative moves in, so the church changes when new members join us. And that is something to embrace, not fear.
Jesus constantly made room for new people. He welcomed those who were lost, overlooked, or dismissed. His parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son all end with celebration - because what was lost has been found. Jesus welcomed because welcome is at the heart of who he is.
Paul’s message to the Athenians was that they had allowed other things - impressive things, beautiful things - to distract them from truly knowing God. And we can do the same. It is easy to settle into a comfortable, unchallenging faith. But the journey Jesus invites us on is not always comfortable. It is a journey of love, commitment, courage, and hope. A journey that asks us to share what we have received.
There’s a humorous story about an older priest speaking to a younger one. He praises the younger priest for replacing the front pews with bucket seats - because it filled the front of the church. He praises him for introducing a more upbeat gospel choir - because it brought in young people.
But then he says, “I’m afraid you’ve gone too far with the drivethrough confessional.” The young priest protests that confessions have doubled. The older priest sighs and says, “Yes, but the flashing neon sign saying ‘Toot’n Tell or Go to Hell’ really has to go.”
It’s a light-hearted story, but it raises a serious question: What are we doing to reveal the love of God? And what might we be doing that hides him?
In our Gospel reading (John 14:15–21), Jesus promises the Holy Spirit, the Helper, who will be with us forever. The early Celtic Christians used the wild goose as a symbol of the Spirit: noisy, unpredictable, impossible to control. And perhaps that is exactly right. When we allow the Spirit to move in us, our lives become less predictable. We are nudged into new places, new conversations, new acts of courage. But through it all, God is with us.
On Ascension Day, Jesus entrusted his mission to us - not because we are perfect, but because he loves us, believes in us, and equips us. It is a responsibility, yes, but also a privilege. We are invited to share in his work: to be signs of his love, his hope, his welcome, his joy.
The invitation is ours to accept. And when we do, we discover that God who cannot be contained in temples or statues is God who walks beside us, who works through us, and who calls us to help make his love known in the world. Amen.
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