God in the Unexpected---Reflections on the Trinity

Canon Beth Knowlton

St. Paul’s Augusta, Women’s Luncheon

October 18, 2008

My desire to know who God is goes back to some of my earliest days of childhood. I remember being at my grandparents farm in Ohio and stomping up the hill to tell my mother I didn’t believe in God. I have no recollection of what triggered that action. She looked at me and said, “Well, I hope you don’t always feel that way.” Apparently that was satisfactory and I walked away. While I don’t remember what caused that incident, I suspect it had something to do with being surprised by something I’d discovered. It was clearly something not to my liking. But whether it’s good or bad, there are countless times when we find ourselves face to face with God in unexpected and unlikely places.

Given everything that has happened nationally and internationally in the past few weeks, the title of this talk seems timely. Many people find themselves in unexpected territory as they worry about global financial instability. From those with large investment portfolios to those who fear for their jobs, global anxiety has brought us to a place that indeed feels “unexpected.” When we add in the election, natural disasters, and what ever personal concerns we might have, the question of where God is in all of this naturally bubbles up. At the Cathedral in Atlanta, it seems like the pews are a little fuller, people’s questions more earnest, and worry almost palpable.

While we are concerned about where God is in unexpected times of concern, the unexpected is not only negative. We wonder about God in the unexpected good times and in the ordinary glimpses that catch us unawares. So, when thinking about today, I wondered which of these three would be most helpful for us to reflect on today. Is it those moments of transcendent joy, desperate need, or the day to day that is most relevant for us? The mountain top, the pit, or the day to day?

Being a good Episcopalian, I felt no need to choose, so I decided on all three.

What would you do if as we had been gathering today, a complete stranger sauntered up to you and asked you to please define the doctrine of the Trinity and how it informs your faith?

I suspect many of us would run. If we recently had been reading church history, we might recite one of the creeds. The prayer book catechism, “The trinity is one God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (BCP852). Forgive me if I don’t find that terribly helpful. I saw a children’s book that attempted to explain it by comparing God to an apple. An apple has a core, flesh, and a peel. But it is still one apple. A nice image, but it doesn’t tell us much about how to deal with the ups and downs of life.

But I believe deeply that our doctrines are not meant to be dry historical treatises that have no bearing in our lives today. At the heart of the trinity is the mystery that we can’t quite figure out who God is and what that means when the rubber meets the road. The formal doctrine from the early 4^th century springs from the same questions we still ask ourselves today. How can God be both human and divine? How can we recognize and claim the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives? And how can this all be the same one God?

At the heart of these questions is the wisdom that despite our best human efforts, God does not allow an easy description or definition. But rather than this being a difficulty, in the long run it gives us the gift of mystery. If God is God and we are God’s people, there should always remain a piece of God we cannot know. Most people with spiritual wisdom encourage us to embrace that mystery if we seek a closer relationship. Who we think God is in any moment is a blend of past experience coupled with our hope for the future. Theologians often call this the difference between the already and the not yet. This is not always a place that feels comfortable or secure, but it is where we usually are.

While we may long for order and security, each time we encounter God unexpectedly we being offered an opportunity. In those moments do we open ourselves to the mystery, or do we try to jam God into the appropriate peg hole. Grace is often the courage that allows us to let go of our assumptions about how things should be, and become more open to finding God in the way things are.

This is something I have continually struggled with and I suspect you may have too. There are just those days when I believe the world could be much better, if God would just follow my list of instructions. Luckily God seems to react the same way my mother did when I stomped up the hill. I can imagine a kindly gaze and the statement, “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I hope it is not always so.”

The subtext is that of love. My child, it will be much easier for you when you allow me to be who I am and accept what I am trying to offer you each day. I love in the prayer of St. Chrysostom when we remind ourselves of this. We ask “Fulfill now, O lord, our desires and petitions as may be best for us.” It is a reminder every day that we don’t even know what we should ask for or desire.

So using the Trinity as a framework, I’d like us to think about how the different ways we experience God keep us open to a rich spiritual and faith filled life.

God the Father---God Experienced as Unexpected Joy

The first person of the Trinity, God the Father, is the part of God we experience in unexpected moments of transcendence. God feels outside of ourselves and we are flooded with joy at that realization. We are jolted into an awareness of something that has been there all along. We are outside of ourselves long enough to feel a deep connection with something larger. We know ourselves as created and long for our creator.

My husband, Ron, and I went to Yosemite a few years ago. I found myself continually stunned and in this place. While I had seen pictures all my life, nothing could prepare me for the grandeur of the park in person. I circled trees that predated the time of Jesus. I craned my neck from the bottom of a deep ravine and struggled to capture in my glance huge rock transformations. I began to understand why Ansel Adams had spent a lifetime trying to capture this place. How could I see such beauty and doubt the existence of something beyond myself? Often in groups when people name a time they felt close to God, it is some encounter outside with the creation.

Entering the grandest of gothic cathedrals can create the same experience. The steeply arched columns that push our eyes skyward, remind us that God is beyond any picture we could draw. When I was in high school my French class went to Quebec. We went to the Basilica of St. Anne de Beaupre. My sole memory of the experience is looking up a huge set of columns that was covered with crutches people left behind after being healed. I still don’t understand that, but the visible sign of power and healing, reminded me that I couldn’t grasp that part of God. My teacher standing next to me said, “How can one not believe in God?”

It is in these moments that we are transported back to Genesis. It is as if we have been given a front row seat when God took time to survey the creation and declare all that he had made, very good.

This sense of a God beyond our selves is not just experienced in the awe of natural beauty or sacred worship spaces. This is also experienced powerfully when some situation is reversed from what we considered to be inevitable.

Scripture often describes this in life coming out of barrenness. When we think of Sarah laughing at the notion of bearing a child in her old age, we are reminded that God is beyond the natural order. When we think of Hannah crying in the temple, desperate for a child, we know that when we lose hope, it is not always the final word. When Mary and Elizabeth are both pregnant, we realize that neither our youth or our advanced age are barriers to God’s action. Whether through the laughter of disbelief or tears of frustration, God acts. And it is often in ways that are not consistent with our understanding at the time.

This is also writ large in the story of the Exodus. After years of slavery and oppression the Israelites find themselves at the shore of the Red Sea. How can there be a way through that does not include certain death? Moses and Miriam cannot help but dance and sing when they come out on the other side of the parting of the waters.

When do you feel most the grandeur of God? When have you been overcome with joy and thanksgiving? It is how we are when we first arrive in this world. Before we become burdened or jaded by life experience, there is awareness innate within us. The toddler that sees each flower as a new miracle or stands open mouthed at cloud formations has some deep sense of connection to the creation. We often see it in wise elders who refuse to take themselves too seriously and laugh easily. It is for those of us in between that the unexpected has to enter in so we can be reminded.

God the Son—God Experienced in Unexpected Times of Fear, Sorrow, or Anxiety

Another time we often find ourselves unexpectedly calling on God is times of fear, sorrow, or anxiety. I was raised a Quaker and as an adult I made an intentional decision to embrace Jesus, as God the Son, as an important part of my faith. The notion of God as creator and lively spirit seemed obvious, but I was less sure about what special gift Jesus had to offer. I was not sure what a deep connection with our humanity could provide.

My first silent retreat I made as an adult was during Lent. It was actually the last time I was in Augusta, in the early 90s. I arrived at the Convent of St. Helena’s with no real understanding of what to expect. So, when the nuns offered to meet with us, I was the first to sign up. I had never heard of a spiritual director and I had never thought of praying with scripture. Sister Elsie invited me to take the passage of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and use my imagination to make the scene come alive. She then suggested that I imagine myself in the place of Jesus. While this seemed more than a little presumptuous, I decided to give it a try.

During my prayer time I was stunned by how vivid the garden seemed. Since I had spent time in college in Israel, I could conjure a detailed scene to place myself. I saw myself thrown down on the gravel sobbing because those I loved the most could not stay awake with me. I struggled to be aligned with God’s will for my life. The fact that Jesus the Christ could cry out in fear and ask for the cup to be taken away was more powerful than I could have imagined. All of a sudden I understood the gift of incarnation, God in flesh and blood. There is no experience or emotion we can have that is beyond God’s knowledge. From the grandest joy to the most unimaginable suffering, God has felt it.

When we feel frustrated by our limits and shortcomings, we can remember that God not only understands, but has felt it. Perhaps most importantly, there is nothing we can experience in this life that is the last word. Suffering and anxiety will all be raised and redeemed. We have both the knowledge of God’s presence in the midst of our suffering and the promise of hope beyond this experience.

A story from scripture that captures this for me is the story of Jesus walking on the water from the Gospel of John.

As you may recall, the disciples have been rowing their hearts out in the sea at night. (I

always wonder, whose brilliant idea was that?) Then as their arms tire they see Jesus walking on the water and they are terrified. This is not anything they could have expected. He assures them that they are not seeing a ghost, and tells them not to be afraid.

The last verse of the scene says, “Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going (v. 21).”

This last verse is so vivid. They are floundering on the water until they stop trying to do it themselves. When they finally stop struggling, drop their oars and invite Jesus in, they were mysteriously on the other side. But dropping our oars is never simply a one time task.

Now, I’m a firm believer in hard work and our call to work towards the Kingdom in this life. Rarely as Christians are we called to be passive bystanders. But, I also know that if I’m not careful, I can get so caught up in my own rowing, that I forget to invite Jesus in. Whether you want to call this works righteousness or idolatry, the reality is we all find ourselves there. What is happening to us, to our families, our friends, and our communities is right in front of us. It is so tangible, we forget the mystery of our life joined with God’s. The only way we can be reminded of God’s active presence is to stop rowing long enough to invite Jesus into our boat.

This may come in the form of daily prayer, time spent in community, or creating spaces of silence. A long walk outside can give us the perspective we need to remember.

I think the image of inviting Jesus in to our boats in turbulent seas, is particularly helpful at this time. As we get swept away with scary headlines and greater uncertainty, it can be tempting to develop our own action plans, consult our financial advisors, friends and family, and consider ourselves done.

But, we have a wonderful opportunity to go deeper in our faith. As community we can be church in a new way. We can gather as the disciples did in the midst of rough waters and invite Jesus in. We are not going to survive uncertain times by rowing harder, but rather through experiencing the peace that only Christ can give us. I don’t know when we’ll mysteriously arrive on the other side, but I do trust that Jesus promises to be with us until we get there.

God the Holy Spirit---God experienced in the Unexpected Ordinary

Now in the midst of seeing God in the highs and lows, it is also important to remember that God is available in all the space in between. That is what scripture calls us to when we seek to pray without ceasing. That only is possible if we see our life with new eyes. There are many tasks we simply must do. So if prayer is only when we are on our knees, uttering audible prayer, we are doomed to fail. But if we see all that we do as an offering to God, we start to discover God in all sorts of unexpected places. A walk in the fall can turn into a flame colored bush burning on our path. This experience of God is how we look to add meaning to our lives. We ask this God to give us a deep sense of the connection between our lives and the life of God. While this is always present, I think the Holy Spirit has a particular gift of revelation for us.

The sustaining availability of God is a helpful way to think about God as Holy Spirit. Before Jesus leaves his disciples after the resurrection he promises that after he is gone he will send another Advocate to be with them. I like this way of thinking of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Advocate is someone who is available to us, and sees things in our lives that may be invisible to us. It is the Holy Spirit that can take a simple encounter in the grocery store and transform it into a moment of grace.

The Hebrew Scriptures describe the Holy Spirit as ruach, or breath of God. The idea of spirit being that which gives us life is powerful. What is more normal than our breathing? And yet who of us could be gathered here without it? The main difference for the Hebrew Scriptures is it is the prophets who have direct access to the spirit. They are specially appointed to have access to the thoughts and emotions of God and act as God’s messenger.

In the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, we boldly claim this access for each of us. It is the reversal of the Tower of Babel, where there was a division and confusion. At Pentecost we hear a unity of language, despite the different tongues.

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus declares, “The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is! Or “There it is!’ For in fact, the kingdom of God is among you. Luke (17:20-21).”

What Jesus is telling the Pharisees and us is that the kingdom is not a just something that appears at the end of time. We are not just meant to wait patiently on the lookout for the end times. In the gift of the Holy Spirit, it is already among us. Our job is to cultivate attentiveness to this presence, so we can be sustained by it. The sacraments are a wonderful example of this. While we gain our Christian identity in baptism, we do not consider it a fait accompli. Instead, we remind ourselves that we need to come to the table with one another and be reminded of the heavenly banquet in communion.

At my orientation in seminary one of the priests said she was tired of seminarians thinking that they had Jesus in a box, and their job was to bring Jesus with them to wherever they were going. While perhaps most prevalent in the clergy, it is an easy trap for us to fall into as people as faith. We’ve got the answers, so we need to run out and share it with all those who might not have gotten the memo.

The priest said the most important thing we could remember when entering a new space, community, or situation, is that Jesus was already there. We are not responsible for bringing him. We are called to bring attention to that presence. The role of the community becomes one of identifying it, nurturing it, and proclaiming it.

Miracle stories like the feeding of the 5,000 are meant to remind us that abundance can be found even when scarcity is all we can see. Not only will our needs be met, but there will be baskets and baskets left over.

I had the pleasure of visiting the Diocese of Central Tanganyika in Tanzania this past summer. It was hard to know what to expect. There were many gifts that came out of the experience. One of the most important was I will never look at simple acts of hospitality in the same way. Over and over again during our trip we experienced a warm and gracious welcome. Whether it was a school, a remote village, or the beautiful Cathedral of the Holy Spirit we were greeted with song, dance, chai, and “bites” (snacks to us).

It was the particular care that was taken at each point of our visit that gradually built to an overwhelming experience of hospitality. The acts were simple, but cumulative. We were not rushed, even though our schedule was full. We were invited into a holy space with new brothers and sisters halfway across the world.

Since my return I have not seen my life here in the same way. When I turn on my tap casually to get water, I remember children digging water out of a dry and dusty river bed. When I take my children to the doctor for a check-up, I think of the many children we saw with malaria and poor nutrition. When I sit down in a pew, I remember the three year old girl who carried her own rock to sit on in an open air service. When I am tempted to check my e-mail compulsively, I think of the fact that somehow the internet did not collapse during the two weeks I was away.

I need to say quickly, we do not need to go overseas to have this awareness. The gift of being in a new place however, can give us a chance to see the familiar in new ways. Sometimes those places are geographical and other times they are created by our experience of the unexpected. We are in the same place, but it does not feel the same at all.

My experience in Africa reminds me that we have the opportunity to extend a welcome to people each day. It does not require a lavish banquet, but can be contained in a smile and a few minutes of genuine listening. I believe the uncertainly we sense in the country will give us many opportunities to return to a deeper appreciation for what is most important in our lives. The relationships we tend, the communities we invest our energy in, and the simple acts of love we can offer one another, will be all the more precious when we see the anxiety in the face of those we meet.

One God---The Unexpected Experience of Being Loved and Giving Love

So, how do we tie all of these things together? What meaning does it have for us that God unexpectedly come to us in the highs and the lows and all the space in between?

What is the unity we can cling to in the midst of this diversity? It is quite simple to say, and much more difficult to trust and enact. It is love. We are called to know the love God has for us and extend it to all we meet. Neither of these is easy. It is too easy for us to forget that we are beloved when we become overwhelmed by stress and anxiety. It can be hard to see the image of God in someone who appears to do nothing but throw roadblocks in our way. Whether they are on Wall Street or our next door neighbors, we need to look for God within each person.

Love requires a space. We need to create space that allows us the freedom to experience God in all these ways. Whether it is in transcending joy, need in sorrow, or a glimpse in the ordinary, it is all Love. We probably need to slow down, take time in the silence, so these moments are not lost to our awareness. We need to hear again the advice Jesus gave his disciples,

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. ²³For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. ²⁴Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! ²⁵And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?^{* 26}If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? ²⁷Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin;^* yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. ²⁸But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! ²⁹And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. ³⁰For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. ³¹Instead, strive for his^* kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.” Luke 12:22-31

It is always easier to tell someone not to worry, than to actually stop worrying. It is easy to succumb to the constant barrage of anxiety that the culture throws our way. You’re not good enough. You don’t look as good as you should. You don’t have nearly enough to consume. Times are worse now than they’ve ever been. Be on the look out. Be vigilant. Be ready.

But that type of anxiety prevents us from seeing and knowing God. We take every opportunity to not encounter the unexpected. We narrow our lives so we feel safe. But that kind of safety is an illusion. Devastating events like 9/11, natural disasters, war, and now financial instability remind us that security cannot be found always in the immediate. But each of these events gives us a chance to remember our need for God and one another. Our real freedom comes from a deep trust in God’s love and peace. Jesus is not calling to ignore the concerns of the world and just “be happy.” No, Jesus is calling us to a place of trust and hope. The best way for us to find that place is to treat each of these encounters with the unexpected as an opportunity. We have them in the highs, the lows, and all the experience in between.

I hope that each of us will take a moment each day to name the unexpected encounters we have with God. They are all related. The more we see God in the ordinary, the more we call upon God in the valley. When we have see God from the mountaintop, we might just notice God in a plate of delicious food. That is the beauty of the Trinity. It is a relationship, not a static image. It shows God as active and interconnected with every part of our life in this world and the next. We are invited as beloved children of God to join the dance. We are created, redeemed, and sustained by that love.