Trinity: The Wind and the Dance

We observe Trinity Sunday a week after Pentecost and before the beginning of Ordinary Time which will take us to Advent. So, it's appropriate to reflect on a full picture of God – Father, Son, and Spirit – as we settle in for the summer and fall. I hope your Sunday is glorious!

The Gospel Reading for Trinity Sunday: John 16:12–15

There are some truths that arrive quietly, not as declarations but as invitations.

You do not see the wind. But you know it's been there when the branches sway, the leaves scatter, the dust lifts from the road. So it is with the presence of God. Elusive, ungraspable… and yet unmistakable in its effect.

Jesus said to his friends,

“I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear.”

There is compassion in that sentence. He does not want to overwhelm them. Instead, he promises the Spirit of truth who will guide them, speak to them, reveal what is to come.

Here, like morning mist rising, a vision of the Trinity begins to emerge, not in doctrine, but in relationship.

Father. Son. Spirit.

Three voices, one harmony. 
Three lights, one fire. 
Three movements, one dance.

We do not fully understand it. We never have. But we feel the current of it moving through the story of God, and through our own lives if we are quiet enough to listen.

The Shape of the Mystery

The word Trinity never appears in Scripture, and yet the whole arc of the Bible bends toward this deep wonder: God is not solitary. God is relational. Love has always been at the heart of the universe because love is who God is.

Not just loving – but Love itself. Love shared. Love flowing. Love creating, redeeming, sustaining.

And like those first disciples, we often struggle to find language wide enough, strong enough, and sacred enough to hold it. Theologians have tried, coining terms like perichoresis – the divine dance – to describe the mutual indwelling of the Father, Son, and Spirit.

Others, like the author of The Shack, offered characters – a warm-hearted woman for the Father, a carpenter for Jesus, a Spirit as light and quick as breath. These are imperfect metaphors, of course. But even flawed images get at something true: God is not a static idea. God is presence, movement, relationship.

When Theory Meets Experience

In my seminary days, the Trinity felt abstract – a theological puzzle. But my understanding evolved over time. Doctrine begins to breathe when it meets real life.

God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth, feels close when you cradle a newborn or till the soil in a garden.

God the Son, Jesus the Redeemer, becomes vivid when you watch someone forgive the unforgivable, or kneel beside the hurting, or sacrifice out of love for another.

God the Spirit, Advocate and Guide, arrives as quiet clarity when a hard decision is made with peace, or when a weary soul finds new strength.

God is not just out there. God is here.

And not just one time, but every time – always surrounding, indwelling, unfolding.

A Tapestry Woven Through Time

Look back in Scripture, and the Trinity begins to reveal itself.

In Genesis, the wind of God hovers over the waters. Breath, Spirit, movement before the world begins. The Word speaks, and all things come to be.

In Exodus and the Psalms, God is a mighty presence – pillar of fire, rock of refuge, still small voice.

In the prophets, God calls for justice, longs for mercy, and promises a Messiah.

Then, in Jesus, the Word becomes flesh. He walks among us. He heals, he teaches, he weeps, he dies, he rises. And when he ascends, he does not leave us alone.

The Spirit comes as wind and fire, filling the hearts of ordinary people with extraordinary courage. In Acts, we see the Spirit animate the Church, turning fear into proclamation, division into communion.

And in Revelation, the final vision includes all three again – the Creator on the throne, the Lamb who was slain, and the Spirit calling, “Come.”

Always three. Always one.

Why It Matters

But still, why should we care? What does this mystery mean for us now?

It matters because when we forget the Trinity, we flatten God. We slot God into manageable pigeon holes – distant judge, gentle teacher, vague inspiration. But the Triune God cannot be contained. The Trinity reminds us that God is bigger, deeper, and closer than we imagined.

When we emphasize one aspect and neglect the others, we risk distorting the divine image. Focus only on the Father, and God becomes a ruler to appease. Fixate only on Jesus, and we may forget the One who sent him. Prioritize only the Spirit, and we can lose our grounding in the story of creation and redemption.

But held together, Father, Son, and Spirit become the pattern of love in motion – a community that includes us, a story that invites us in.

The Trinity teaches us how to live. It reveals the shape of divine love as mutual, generous, and self-giving. It gives us a glimpse of what healthy community could look like: unity without uniformity, difference without division.

It shows us that love is not static. It moves. It creates. It suffers. It sends.

“As the Father sent me,” Jesus said, “so I send you.” 
And he breathed on them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

We are caught up in this rhythm of grace.

The Wind and the Dance

The Trinity is not a math problem to solve, but a mystery to enter.

It is not three candles becoming one flame, or water in three forms. It is not the same person wearing three masks. Those all fall short.

The Trinity is more like a dance you are drawn into, before you know the steps. 
It is like hearing music through a wall and pressing your ear closer. 
It is like the wind -- you do not see it, but you know it by what it stirs.

And when you find yourself suddenly more patient, more generous, more hopeful than usual, that might be the Spirit whispering to your life.

When you forgive someone who hasn’t asked for it, or reach across a divide with grace, or grieve in a way that makes space for healing – that's the Son walking with you.

When you feel awe looking at the stars, or tenderness holding a someone's hand, or the ache to make something new – that’s the Creator stirring in you again.

All three. Always one. Always there.

A Prayer for Trinity Sunday

God beyond us, God beside us, 
God within us—

You are mystery, and yet you meet us in our need. 
You are the wind we cannot see, 
the voice that speaks in silence, 
the love that calls us by name.

Let us feel the breath of your Spirit, 
follow the steps of your Son, 
and rest in the embrace of the One who made us.

Draw us into the dance. 
Let our lives be the chorus of your song.

Amen.