In Acts chapter 7, at the climax of his long speech before the Sanhedrin, a believer named Stephen is granted a vision. By the power of the Holy Spirit, Stephen is enabled to see what lies beyond the sight of created eyes. He sees “heaven open,” and there he sees not God, but “the glory of God” (7:55), for God’s word that “no one may see me and live” (Exod 33:20) stands true. Yet he also sees “Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” Visions of the risen Jesus are far from commonplace in the book of Acts. Indeed, the only other such vision is the one that sets the newly converted Paul off on his mission to the Gentiles (Acts 22:17-21): so significant not only within his own life, but within the story of Acts, and even in salvation history. What Stephen sees, then, is clearly very meaningful. But what exactly does it mean?
Artistic Representation as Biblical Exegesis
In the sequel to his Gospel, Luke relates the ascension of Jesus into heaven in strikingly visual terms. During a period of forty days, the risen Jesus ‘appears’ to his chosen apostles (1:3). On one occasion, he instructs his disciples to wait in Jerusalem for the gift of the Holy Spirit, who will empower them to bear witness “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (1:8). Then comes Jesus’ ascension. “After he had said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight.”
Early visual representations of this moment established an artistic tradition which has tended to make Jesus’ ascension virtually a second transfiguration. Jesus rises in midair, attended by angels and bursting with divine radiance as his followers on earth bend upward in awe. The ascension is a moment of disclosure, in which Jesus’ glory is seen on earth. Such depictions can rightly claim an exegetical justification, if not for locating Mary at the heart of the scene, then at least for perceiving the ascension as the moment that Jesus is seen entering into heavenly glory. Within the biblical narrative, divine emissaries are immediately on hand to explain that “you have seen him go into heaven” (1:10-11). In the broader context, Peter has no trouble drawing the inference from the astonishing sights and sounds of the day of Pentecost, as perceived through the lens of the Scriptures: “Exalted to the right hand of God, [Jesus] has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear” (2:33).
Another later strand of Christian art, however, perceives something rather different in the biblical account. In such works all that is seen of Jesus are two very human feet, as the man of Nazareth disappears out of the top of the frame, and out of human sight. His followers stare up in incomprehension. Here the ascension is a moment not of revelation but of concealment, as before their very eyes Jesus is taken up, taken away, and out of sight. In its own way, this later tradition can also claim exegetical justification, having discerned questions latent within the narrative. Does Jesus’ invisibility imply his earthly absence? Do events on earth remain visible to the ascended Jesus? These concerns remain hidden until they emerge into view, as it were, at Stephen’s martyrdom.
Witnessing and Bearing Witness
The early chapters of Acts recount the fulfillment of Jesus’ words: “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses (martyres) in Jerusalem” (1:8). The English word ‘witness’ describes one who has direct, firsthand experience of events. It is critical that the apostles be witnesses in this sense. Judas the betrayer can only be replaced by “one of the men who have been with us the whole time the Lord Jesus was living among us, beginning from John’s baptism to the time when Jesus was taken up from us; one of these must become a witness with us of his resurrection” (1:21-22). Such people are called in Greek autoptai, “self-seers;” these are the ones who stand behind the Gospel tradition which Luke himself is continuing (Luke 1:2). This kind of direct perception is an essential precondition for the activity which is the true theme of the Acts of the Apostles: bearing witness, or testifying. One who engages in such activity – one who has seen, and then speaks of what he has seen – is a “witness” (martys).
Remaining in Jerusalem, the believers receive the Spirit on the gift of Pentecost, and immediately begin to testify to what they have witnessed. “God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses (martyres) of it” (Acts 2:32). Given recent events in the city, of course, the apostles’ testimony to Jesus’ resurrection bears a sharp edge: “You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead. We are witnesses of this” (3:15). Large numbers of the people hear, repent, and believe.
The religious authorities who opposed Jesus, however, maintain a hostile stance toward his followers. Imprisoned, threatened, and mistreated, the apostles are instructed in no uncertain terms to be silent. Discerning an either/or choice between obeying the religious authorities and obeying God, they courageously refuse to abandon their Lord’s charge to bear witness: “we cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard” (4:20). Throughout the city, in public and private forums, “they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah” (5:42). But if the believers are determined, so too are their enemies. When these opponents finally manage to overcome the popular support that has shielded the believers thus far, turning the people against them, a dark day dawns.
Dark Days
Stephen, selected to serve at tables so that the apostles may “give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word” (6:3), has nevertheless himself been speaking and acting in the power of the Spirit. His opponents arraign him before the Sanhedrin, accusing him of speaking against “this holy place” (i.e. the Jerusalem temple) and the law. Stephen’s lengthy response is not so much a defense as a counter-charge: “You are just like your ancestors: You always resist the Holy Spirit!” (7:51) As those ancestors killed the prophets, this present generation has killed the One the prophets awaited. Unsurprisingly, his words infuriate the presiding authorities (7:54).
Just at this moment, Stephen is granted an extraordinary vision: “full of the Holy Spirit, he stared into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God” (7:55). The defendant turns witness, speaking of what he has just seen: “Look! I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God” (7:56). But rather than hear the words which direct them to lift their gaze, “At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him” (7:58). There is no angelic deliverance: Stephen is killed.
Long-simmering opposition to the believers has now bubbled up into a lynching, and continues to boil over into “a great persecution against the church in Jerusalem” (8:1). The dark day of Stephen’s judicial murder leads to more dark days. At the heart of that day’s violence was a young man named Saul (8:58), who now turns a moment of hot fury into a cold program of terror. Organized and ruthless, he goes from house to house, dragging off both women and men and imprisoning them. His aim is “to destroy the church” (8:3). The members of the Jerusalem church are scattered; only the apostles remain in the city (8:1).
The nascent Jesus movement has now attracted both official and popular opposition, and has acquired a relentless nemesis. After a dream run, it seems that the dream must now surely die. The lingering question about the meaning of Jesus’ ascension now presses forward and demands the reader’s attention. If Jesus has gone into heaven, does that mean that he is simply gone? Where is Jesus in these dark days? Has he disappeared from the scene? Where is Jesus when his people need him most? Even as this question takes shape within Luke’s narrative, so too does its answer. Stephen knows very well where Jesus is: in heaven.
“I see heaven open.”
Within the Bible, “heaven” is not the name of the place believers go when they die. It is the name of God’s place. “God is in heaven and you are on earth” (Eccl 5:2). Our earthly existence is irreducibly local; we are always where we are, and there are always many places we are not. The Creator’s presence to his world is not like this. There is no physical location where God can reliably be found—not even the “holy place” in the temple in Jerusalem, and ultimately not even “heaven,” which must finally be regarded less as a place and more as a metaphor for the mode of God’s presence. As Solomon declared at the completion of the temple, “But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built” (1 Kings 8:27). That God dwells in heaven does not mean God can be found in heaven; it means that he can be found nowhere on earth, and yet can be and is present in every place on earth. “God is in heaven” means that God is over and behind every earthly reality; God sees, hears, and governs what takes place in every place.
In the midst of enemies, on trial for his life, God grants Stephen a sight that only God can bestow—a glimpse into heaven—and there Stephen sees “the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:55). Stephen sees that as God is in heaven, so Jesus is in heaven. As God is present to the world he made, so Jesus is present to God’s world. After his ascension, Jesus’ earthly existence has come to an end. He has gone, and there is no place where he can be found. But this does not mean Jesus is absent. Just as God is nowhere and everywhere, overseeing and undergirding all things, so too is the risen and exalted Jesus.
Where is Jesus when his people need him most? Jesus is in heaven. This means that, despite appearances, Jesus has not disappeared from the scene. Because Jesus is in heaven, Jesus is at hand; he stands ready to help. Wherever his people may be found, very simply, Jesus is there. Jesus is there, and he is there for his people, because from heaven Jesus sees and hears every thing in every place; he sees and hears just as God does. And so when Stephen calls out ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,' he does so in the certain knowledge that Jesus hears his cry on this darkest of days, and discovers for himself the truth of what God had said about such days: “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Acts 2:21).
Peter is an ordained Anglican minister and serves as a local church pastor in Sydney, Australia, where he loves preaching the good news of Jesus and seeing God’s church grow together in love. He received a Ph.D. from Durham University and teaches advanced Greek for Tennent. Peter and his wife, Pamela, have three boys: Simon, Daniel, and William. He enjoys receiving exhaustive training in building Lego and playing Minecraft under the boys’ close supervision, and also reading, playing guitar, and walking outdoors.