What Standing Up Means
Reflection for the 5th Sunday of Easter
There's a gesture most of us have experienced at least once.
You walk into a room where someone is already seated. And they see you — really see you — and they rise. Not because protocol requires it. They stand up because you arrived. Because your presence is worth the getting up.
It doesn't happen often. That's why you remember it when it does.
I've been thinking about a detail buried in the Book of Acts that most people read right past.
Stephen — one of the early church's first leaders — has been dragged before the council in Jerusalem. He has told them the truth, which is never the safe thing to do. And now they are done listening. They cover their ears. They rush at him. They take him outside the city.
Before any of that happens, Luke tells us that Stephen looks up. He sees the heavens opened. He sees Jesus standing at the right hand of God.
Standing.
Every other place in the New Testament where the risen Christ appears — in visions, in proclamations, in the book of Revelation — he is seated. Enthroned. At rest. The work is finished. Here, he is on his feet.
Some scholars read that as a legal posture — Jesus rising as a witness on Stephen's behalf. Maybe. But I keep thinking about something simpler. I keep thinking about what it means when someone stands up for you. Not metaphorically. Literally. Because you matter enough to interrupt what they were doing. Because they want you to know, before a word is spoken, that you are not alone here.
Stephen is about to die. He knows it. The stones are already in people's hands. And he looks up, and someone is standing. That is a claim about the nature of God — that whatever awaits us on the other side of the hardest moment, we do not walk into it unreceived. We are seen. And someone rises.
I don't know what you're carrying this week. I don't know what room you are about to have to walk into, or what you are afraid of finding there, or what it has already cost you to keep showing up. But I believe this.
You are not walking in alone. And somewhere, somehow — something rises to meet you.











