Mt 28:16-20

18 May 2008

Trinity Sunday

“It’s not Easy Being Green”

            I want to begin with some comments about where we are on the liturgical calendar—where we are in time.  I’m modifying some comments I made as my alter ego, Dr. Sheltie, which is the name of my blog.[1]  (Not that I’m promoting it!  I’ve been taught humility by a photo of a guy wearing a tee shirt that says, “No one cares about your blog.”)

            Last week, we reached the end of what is, theologically, no doubt the most awesome season on the Christian calendar.  Some say the Christian faith is too narrow.  In some ways, I would be forced to agree.  But if we have an expansion of our vision, those assessments themselves will seem to be much too narrow.

We reached the end of the Easter season, fifty days which celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Christ has broken the boundary of death itself.  “Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died” (1 Co 15:20).

Two weeks ago was Ascension.  Christ has broken the boundary of the cosmos.  As the cosmic Christ, he has broken the boundary of everything.  As the apostle Paul puts it in letters to the Ephesians and Colossians:  Christ “fills all in all.”  Christ “ascended far above all the heavens, so that he might fill all things.”  Christ “is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Ep 1:23, 4:10; Col 1:17).

Last Sunday was Pentecost.  In his gospel, John clues us into some things.  Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father” (Jn 14:12).

One reason for those “greater works” is something we read last week.  “‘Let the one who believes in me drink.  As the scripture has said, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.”’  Now he said this about the Spirit, which believers in him were to receive” (Jn 7:38-39).

We’re given access to all of this boundary-breaking stuff.  To those who’ve concluded that the Christian vision is too narrow, I would humbly suggest, “Look again.”  I would say that’s quite a vision!  In fact, I would say it’s a vision that encompasses everything.  And that’s why I said the season that just ended—the season that speaks to all of that—is awesome!

So now we have today, Trinity Sunday.  This day is set aside to acknowledge and celebrate the importance of the theological doctrine of the Holy Trinity.  What do you think about that?  Hey, I saw your eyes light up!  There’s nothing to get the juices flowing like celebrating the importance of a theological doctrine!  In fact, I think we need more days set aside for doctrine!

Of course, if that’s all we understand Trinity Sunday to be, I can well imagine how it would be an effective remedy for insomnia.  But if we expand our vision, we’ll see today as the next step in that progression of Easter to Ascension to Pentecost.  We’ll recognize Trinity Sunday as being far from the property of those who are out of touch, those who dwell in ivory towers.  We’ll see it as the life that reaches straight into, and out of, our very heart and soul.  We’ll see it as hitting us where we live.

What am I talking about?  I’m speaking of something that goes beyond just thinking—the way one would approach an abstract idea.  Trinity Sunday includes thinking, but it takes in the entire person, the entire being:  how we act and feel, how we love and hate, how we build and destroy.  It involves what’s going on in our gospel story in Matthew, what’s often called the Great Commission.

We see some folks being asked to respond with their entire being.  “Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them.  When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted” (vv. 16-17).

Going back home to Galilee probably would have made sense, anyway.  Jerusalem has been flooded with visitors celebrating Passover, but their real reason for being there was Jesus.  Still, they’re given an assignment:  go to a certain mountain.  No one knows for sure which mountain.  Some say it’s where Jesus preached the Sermon on the Mount; others say it’s the mountain of transfiguration.  Maybe it’s elsewhere.

What happens when the disciples see their risen Lord?  Matthew tells us that they worshiped him, but the worship is intermingled with doubt.  He doesn’t elaborate; he only says that “some doubted.”

Here’s my question:  is it possible to worship, and at the same time, still have some degree of doubt?  I’m not asking if it’s the ideal; I’m asking if it’s reality.  Who among us has no shadow of doubt?  To me, it feels like this business of the entire being:  how we act and feel, how we love and hate, how we build and destroy.

This provides a convenient segue to my sermon title.  Psalm 8 speaks to this.  “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” (v. 1).  The title, “It’s not easy being green,” is less about a song performed by Kermit the Frog, than it is something I’d imagine our planet would say!

Look at what verse 6 says.  “You have given them [that is, human beings] dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet.”  When you consider the stewardship of the planet we’ve been given, those who actually care what happens to it might also be singing that song!

On a side note, I don’t want to give the impression that Kermit is all doom and gloom!  Here’s how the song ends:  “When green is all there is to be / It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why / Wonder, I am green and it’ll do fine, it’s beautiful / And I think it’s what I want to be.”[2]

Moving on, we should realize that stewardship is a comprehensive thing.  It has no boundaries.  It’s not limited to money, which is the image that comes to many in the church when they hear the word “stewardship.”  It’s also not limited to care for the earth, as fashionable as that once again is becoming.  (And I’m not just talking about Hollywood; I’m talking about multi-national corporations—like the ones who put children in commercials to praise the benefits of “clean coal.”)

Notice the massive, sweeping, all-encompassing statements in verses 18 to 20.  Jesus Christ, who has broken all the boundaries I spoke of, is not holding back.  He says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.”  He says to “make disciples of all the nations.”  He says to teach them “to obey everything that I have commanded you.”  And finally (and I really love this), he says that “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

I don’t know about you, but if it weren’t for that final comment—the promise of his ongoing presence—the phrase about teaching “everything I have commanded you” would be pretty daunting.  (Actually, it is anyway!)  Once again, there are no boundaries.  But what Jesus actually says is to teach disciples “to obey everything I have commanded you.”  It’s not simply head knowledge.  It involves behavior; it’s how we live our lives.

Take the dominion and responsibility for care of the earth in Psalm 8 and view that through the lenses of the Great Commission.  We get the sweeping, all-encompassing view of discipleship that deals with God’s good creation, of which we are intimately a part.  Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Still, as I’ve said, it’s not easy being green.  Concern for, love for, anything can become distorted.  People slip into idolatry, and there are certainly people who worship the earth.  But we teach, and baptize, not in the name of anything in creation.  We baptize “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”:  the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer (v. 19).

            Toward the end of his autobiography, A Broad Place, Jürgen Moltmann says, “The experience of God deepens the experiences of life.  It does not reduce them.  For it awakens the unconditional Yes to life.  The more I love God, the more gladly I exist.  The more immediately and [completely] I exist, the more I sense the living God, the inexhaustible source of life and eternal livingness.”[3]

            As we learn to say “yes” to God through Christ in the power of the Spirit, we will find ourselves pushing against ever expanding limits.  But if we become satisfied with those limits—or to say it a different way—if we put God in a box, then we’re worshipping an idol.

            We can become satisfied with limits in almost limit-less ways.  One of the most common ways is through apathy, not really caring what happens.  On several occasions, I’ve heard the arithmetic that in organizations, it’s usually 20% of the people who carry 80% of the load.  I don’t know how true that is, but for the church, I know it doesn’t have to be.  Actually, it shouldn’t be.

            Part of the genius of Trinity Sunday is the way it models community.  The Holy Trinity is the community—the perfect community of complete self-giving and complete ownership.  Remember our call to worship.  Every word matters.  “The Trinity is not a definition of God, but a cry of faith from the heart of the Christian experience:  a cry of trust and commitment, a cry of love and adoration.”

            Last week, I touched on the importance of commitment.  It can be tricky.  Not that I advocate violence, but sometimes we need a kick in the butt.  We so quickly forget that our time, talents, and treasure don’t originate with us.  We forget that they are the gifts of God, and that we are called to be wise stewards of them.  We get the urge to pollute our lives—to waste what’s been so freely given us—and we shrug and say, “It’s not easy being green!”

            The good news for us is that we have one who is more than ready to help us.  This is the one who says to “remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

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