The Servant Ascends | Mark 16:19-20
As we close our journey through Mark, I feel that mix of joy and ache you get at the end of a really good story because this one doesn’t actually end; it hands us the pen. Think of the disciples that day: no countdown clock, no warning, just Jesus’ final words about the mission, and then… He rises. I imagine them craning their necks, stunned, maybe wanting to grab His feet and pull Him back down. And then the angels: “Why are you staring? He’s coming again.” Family, that’s where our story picks up right where Mark leaves off and Acts lifts off. Today, let’s anchor our hearts in three truths from Mark 16:19–20 that steady us for the mission Jesus gave us.
The ascension confirms completion
“So then after the Lord had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God” (Mark 16:19).
When Jesus sat at the Father’s right hand, He wasn’t collapsing into inactivity; He was declaring, “It is finished.” Unlike priests who stood daily offering repeat sacrifices (Heb. 10:11–12), Jesus offered one sacrifice for sins forever and then sat down. That seat is the posture of completed redemption and present authority.
What does that mean for us?
Your salvation rests on His finished work, not your unfinished efforts. Our best righteousness is still rags; His righteousness is enough. Salvation is not “do”, it’s “done.”
The Savior who saved you now rules over you and over everything that troubles you. The same Christ who calmed storms and conquered death is enthroned, unthreatened by your chaos, sovereign over your trials, enemies, and uncertainties. Our confidence isn’t in our grip on Him but in His rule over us.
So we live and labor from victory, not for it. The throne of heaven is occupied; the King is not nervous about your situation.
The ascension proves heaven
“He was received up into heaven…” (Mark 16:19).
Heaven is not a vibe or a metaphor; it’s a real place, the dwelling of God, where the risen Christ now lives bodily and prepares a place for His people (John 14:1–3). Your salvation is your boarding pass. You’re not asked to “imagine Toronto from the tarmac”; you’re actually going there because Jesus bought the ticket with His blood and keeps you in His hand.
Why does that matter?
Assurance: If Jesus is there, you can be there too. Everyone who calls on His name will be saved. If you’re unsure, come to Him today, He invites you.
Hope: Those in Christ who’ve gone before us aren’t in a vague fog; they are with the Lord. And when we arrive, the former things, tears, death, sorrow, pain, will pass away. That future reframes our present.
Heaven is not merely something to hope for; it’s a home you’re headed for.
The ascension gives power to the commission
“And they went forth, and preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word with signs following. Amen.” (Mark 16:20).
Notice the order: they went; the Lord worked with them. God makes obedience effective. We plant, others water, but God gives the increase. The results are His responsibility.
This is liberating. Too often we treat evangelism and discipleship like promotions we’re scared to accept because of the pressure. But the Christian life isn’t about carrying managerial responsibility for outcomes; it’s about faithful obedience while the Lord manages results.
And here’s the wonder: because Jesus ascended, the Spirit descended. “It is better for you that I go,” Jesus said, “for if I depart, I will send the Comforter” (John 16:7). Acts 1:8 promises power for witness to the ends of the earth. So the enthroned Son intercedes; the indwelling Spirit empowers; the Father oversees the mission. We go, He works.
Practically, that means:
Share the gospel and trust God to open hearts.
Pray bold prayers and expect God to shake places.
Serve sacrificially and watch God multiply your “loaves and fishes.”
Suffer faithfully and see God turn trials into testimonies.
Mark intentionally ends with motion: “they went forth…everywhere.” The gospel refuses to be localized—it is for every tribe, tongue, neighbor, coworker, and nation. The written story closes with “Amen,” but the lived story continues in us.
