"From the Beginning”
- Dr. Todd R. Wright

- 2 days ago
- 6 min read
...early disciples experienced encounters with the Spirit as encounters with God directly — and at the same time, Jesus spoke of the Spirit as a guiding, challenging presence distinct both from him and from the One to whom he prayed.
![[1] “Let There Be” by Lauren Wright Pittman, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ff6591_3dffd5302e014cc6bc2cdf32c89c8980~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_211,h_211,al_c,q_80,enc_avif,quality_auto/ff6591_3dffd5302e014cc6bc2cdf32c89c8980~mv2.jpg)
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
May 31, 2026
Dr. Todd R. Wright
I haven’t been to the downtown mall in ages, but I knew I was in trouble from the beginning. I was looking for a store to replace a pair of summer shorts that had torn and I had to consult the mall map. But there was no “you are here” pin. I was bewildered, lost.
A sermon about the Trinity can feel a bit like that. It’s easy to get lost and tempting to wish for a clear starting point.
So let’s do a little navigating together, beginning with what we know and exploring from there.
First, let’s be clear: the Trinity was not dreamed up by scholars in some ivory tower.
Folks I trust have explained its origins like this:
“The ancient doctrine of the Trinity arose out of early Christian reflection on scripture, [on] Jesus, and [on] the Holy Spirit. For his earliest followers, encountering Jesus was somehow encountering God directly — and at the same time, Jesus spoke of God as both distinct from him (as when he prayed to God, or spoke of God as the One who sent him) and yet nevertheless “one” with him. There was both a “two-ness” and a “oneness” in play, and so Christians sought out ways to express this mystery with poetry and precision.
Likewise, early disciples experienced encounters with the Spirit as encounters with God directly — and at the same time, Jesus spoke of the Spirit as a guiding, challenging presence distinct both from him and from the One to whom he prayed.
And so arose, over time, the church’s doctrine of the Trinity, the idea that God is properly conceived as both Three and One. Not three Gods — for that would miss God’s oneness. And not merely One — for that would miss God’s threeness, and wouldn’t do justice to the sense of encountering God in Jesus and the Holy Spirit.”[2]
So, naturally, once people sensed the existence of the Trinity, they began to look for its presence in scripture.
Matthew ends his gospel with Jesus commissioning his followers to make disciples of all nations and baptize them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit!
We have been baptizing in the name of the Trinity ever since!
But there are other places where the Trinity peeks out from the shadows.
In fact, for those with eyes to see, the Trinity has been there from the beginning!
I’m sure you’ve heard the Creation account in Genesis 1 hundreds of times – but have you ever spotted the tracks of the Trinity in those familiar words?
I don’t blame you if you got so caught up in the pattern that you missed it.
Repetition is a well know writer’s device. The pattern in Goldilocks and the three bears is: too hot, too cold, just right; too big, too small, just right; too hard, too soft, just right!
The pattern in Genesis repeats too: God said, “Let there be … [light, first, and then all the rest] … and it was good!”
Each day God spoke something new into existence … and got it just right the first time!
Poet Sarah Klassen gushes:
“Let there be light! A flash, a bolt, a brilliant blaze that puts the kibosh on chaos.
Let light shine on width, breadth, depth, a dazzle to illuminate all matter everywhere.
Let it glint gloriously off ocean wave, sea swell, a brooklet’s little ripples.
Let every butterfly, bat, [and] bird bathe in radiance.
Let it pour mornings into breakfast bowls, fill empty cups to overflowing.
At evening, let light’s long plumes linger: violet and vivid on every atom of creation.
When darkness closes in, shrouding the valley floor, let sky be spangled still,
lit with the glow of meteors, the murky milky way, the white hot stars …”[3]
The Trinity shows up on day six when God says, “Let us make humankind in our image …”
Once you know to look for it, it’s as obvious as a white hot star!
And you may find yourself asking, “who is the us?”
The scholars of ancient Israel were convinced that this was a conversation being held in the heavenly court between God and the angelic chorus.
John Holbert imagines a rabbi pointing to its location just after the creation of the animals and concluding that God is speaking to them. “Hence, he [summarizes, with a flourish], all of us have within … a little bit of God and a little bit of beast.”[4]
But early Christians see the plural references as clear proof of … the Trinity!
If they are right, consider what this creation story reveals about the Trinity … and us!
To be honest, I had always heard this language in singular terms – God has created us in God’s image and so we were like our creator. That means if God is creative, we are crafted to be creative; if God is holy, we are called to be holy; if God is merciful, we reflect God to the world every time we show mercy.
But the “us” and “our” language in this passage reminds us that we are created in the image of the Trinity. So, does that mean we are like the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit? And if so, what does that mean in practical terms?
I found myself thinking a bit about genetics and baby Reily, my granddaughter.
I think she looks a lot like my daughter, Emily. She has the same coloring; the same scowl.
But, of course, she is Matt’s child too. Half her genes are his.
As she grows, will she have his laugh, his love for hockey?
Will she display Emily’s spirit of adventure and feel a call to be a teacher?
When you have two parents, you tend to get a bit of who you are from each one.
So, since we are created in the image of the Trinity, does the same apply?
Take creativity, for example. Does being made in the image of the Trinity mean that we are like the Father when we welcome the prodigal home, crafting a new relationship based on grace? And like the Son when we tell parable-like stories that paint a picture of the kingdom of God and push people to think? And like the Spirit when we dream up a whole new way for God to enter the world and approach partners like Mary to birth it into existence?
Or is being made in the image of the Trinity less about imitating specific qualities of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and more about not doing things alone?
“There is no creativity, no creation, that is not communal, reflecting the mutual heart of God,” writes Jason Byassee.[5]
If he is right, does that mean that we most clearly reflect our God-like image when we are creating things together that could not possibly be the work of a single person?
Like those brave souls who dreamed up a country some 250 years ago
and made it work with the blood, sweat, and tears of people so wonderfully un-alike.
Like the collection of creatives that put people on the moon in ’69
and are striving to do it again?
Like the faithful and adventurous who dared to plant a church on this corner in 1950
and worked together to create services of worship and ministries to the community,
developed a pool of leaders and built a building to house all of it?
In short, is it about reflecting our divine genetics or practicing divine partnership?
The good news is that the Trinity refuses to be limited to one or the other.
So live out both. You were made to reflect the whole image of the Trinity! Amen
[1] “Let There Be” by Lauren Wright Pittman, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN
[2] From the SALT project commentary on the text, 5/25/26
[3] From her poem, “First Day of Creation”
[4] From “Who are we and who is God?”, 6/12/11
[5] From his reflection on the text for workingpreacher.org, 3/30/24

![[i] “Fire Lookout” by Carol Aust](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ff6591_139aae706e86478d914aa66aacead714~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_166,h_252,al_c,q_80,enc_avif,quality_auto/ff6591_139aae706e86478d914aa66aacead714~mv2.jpg)
![[1] “Complete Joy” by Lauren Wright Pittman, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ff6591_95e6622e38754674a09679ad0771b818~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_270,h_212,al_c,q_80,enc_avif,quality_auto/ff6591_95e6622e38754674a09679ad0771b818~mv2.jpg)

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