What He Has to Say for Himself
Commentary
For so many Christians, including likely most of the people in our pews this Sunday, there are a handful of doctrines which they’d rather not have to think much about. The doctrine of the Trinity, the idea of the eternality of God, and the affirmation that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine are all so conceptually difficult that, even if folks say they believe them, they couldn’t begin to explain them. And so, you and I are tasked this week with the assignment to preach about something that is confusing — perhaps even off-putting — to our people. We are called to preach about the Trinity.
Church historians and theologians will sometimes describe the doctrine of the Trinity as a “later development.” Except for the most jaded or skeptical, what they mean is that the framing of what the church believes about the Trinity came comparatively late in church history. No great explanatory statements are found in scripture. Instead, it was left to the later, ancient creeds of the church, coming out of the theological debates of their times, to hammer out appropriate affirmations of what we believe about the Trinity.
What may have been late developing on our end, however, is not a late development in scripture. True, the word “Trinity” does not appear anywhere in the biblical text. Yet references to the three persons of the Trinity are explicit in the New Testament. And, as our assigned Old Testament lection suggests, we may have a hint about the truth of the Trinity from the very beginning. For right in the midst of the creation story, we overhear a strange and unexplained divine plural — “Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness.”
Many readers, for a variety of understandable reasons, are keen to find other explanations for the surprising grammar. Perhaps the Lord was speaking to the heavenly host, a sort of divine council. Perhaps this is an example of a kind of “royal we.” Or perhaps, some might propose, this is even a vestige of Israel’s early polytheism (for some like to argue that monotheism came late to Jewish faith). Yet all of these explanations seem to be deliberate efforts to overlook the orthodox and altogether plausible source of the grammar: namely, that God is revealing the truth about himself from the very beginning.
At this point, of course, the debate shifts momentarily from what we believe about God to what we believe about scripture. Is it merely a human composition? If so, then we are left only to speculate about the theology and agenda of its various authors. But if it is divinely inspired, then all sorts of marvels are suddenly available to us. For it is quite obvious from the text itself that no human being was in place to hear these (or any of the earlier) creative words of God. But if it was the Lord himself who revealed to some human agent the pre-human words and events recorded in Genesis 1, then the Lord is revealing to us in this episode what he said. And if this is what he said, and if he is Triune, then there should be no surprise at all in him addressing himself in this plural way: “Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness.”
So the Trinity itself is not a late development; the doctrine of the Trinity is. In our preaching, then, perhaps we should set aside what is late and focus on what is original. That is to say, set aside the human struggle to comprehend what is incomprehensible, to express in words what is ineffable. Instead, let us focus on the biblical text and what the Lord reveals about himself within it.
Genesis 1:1--2:4
Our Old Testament assignment is to preach one of the most familiar — and in some circles, one of the most controversial — passages in the whole Bible. Genesis chapter 1 and the beginning of chapter 2 combine to tell the story of God creating “the heavens and the earth.” In an age of scientific skepticism, many details of these verses are debated and disputed. We cannot tackle those issues here, for whole books are devoted to those matters. We will satisfy ourselves simply to acknowledge what the text affirms.
First, the text affirms that God is the agent of creation. Over against the myths of the surrounding cultures, which featured all sorts of deified soap operas, as well as divine fiefdoms and conflicts, the Lord God stands alone and supreme over the creation process. He speaks, and it is. And all that he does is good.
The specific method by which God creates, incidentally, is significant. Again, we note that the contemporary ancient creation myths that surrounded biblical Israel ranged from amusing to goofy to disgusting. But the Lord God did not create by way of some battle or bodily function. He spoke creation into being, which introduces us from page one to the principle and truth of God’s authority. His word makes things happen. And that proves to be an ongoing theme.
Second, the text makes it plain that the Lord’s creation is not static: rather, it is purposely alive. This may be a detail that we take for granted simply because things are the way they are. But a sovereign creator could have made things any way that he wanted to, and so we presume that this particular design is an indication of his will. And the creation he designed is not a finished product in the sense that a painting or sculpture or piece of music might be. Rather, this creation is living and changing. He started it all, but he also designed it in such a way that it keeps going.
There is, of course, a certain vulnerability in that design. If his creation had been a fixed, a static thing, then its perfection could have been guaranteed, its full beauty preserved. But the creation was not immutable like its creator. And he left it in the charge of the particular creatures made in his image. And, well, we know the rest of the story.
Meanwhile, the purposely living and growing design of God’s creation brings us to a third observation that we make from the text: the importance of fruitfulness. This is essential to a creation that is living rather than static, you see. The trees bear fruit with the seed in it. The creatures are instructed to be fruitful and multiply. The human beings are instructed to be fruitful and multiply. And, if we were to turn the page to read the next chapter in the creation story, we would see that the special place God made for human beings is specifically characterized by fruitfulness. This is an important theme to note in the creation story, for it continues to reverberate throughout scripture (see, for example, Psalm 1:1-3, Matthew 3:7-10, Matthew 7:16-20, John 15:1-8, Galatians 5:22-23, Revelation 22:1-2).
Fourth, we observe that God’s creation is marked by orderliness. We sense that chaos prevails before he begins his work. And so, a recurring feature of his creative work is to separate: light from dark, day from night, water above from water below, and water from land. My wife likes to say of her perfect living environment, “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” That seems to be the look and feel of God’s accomplished creation.
Finally, we have space to make still one more general observation. The creation account pulses with the feeling of abundance. There is nothing sparse or bare about the scene that unfolds before the reader’s eyes. On the contrary, there are spaces filled with creatures and all sorts of life. This creation is alive, active, colorful, and varied. And in it, the Creator has no doubt revealed to us something of his nature and preferences.
There is, of course, so much, much more that can be said, for these foundational verses of scripture are pregnant with theological truth and profound implications. Our endeavor here in this brief space is simply to highlight a few of the broad-brush themes that characterize the story as a whole.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Our New Testament lection is brief, but dense. As is so often the case, the Apostle Paul concludes his epistle with a series of concise, almost bullet-point instructions. If any one of these principles were found earlier in the epistle, the apostle might have devoted seven to ten verses to elaborating on it. Instead, however, these are quick-hit kinds of precepts that Paul wants to communicate before he says goodbye.
In this regard, we may recognize the genre, not only as typical of Paul’s ancient letters, but perhaps also as typical of our daily goodbyes. I think especially of how parents say goodbye to their children. So often, love and concern give rise to a quick series of reminders and instructions: things we want our kids to keep in mind while they are out there in the world away from us. So, too, with the Apostle Paul and his spiritual children in Corinth.
“Rejoice” as an imperative verb may sound strange in our day. It is not foreign to Paul, of course, as we remember his famous and emphatic word to the Philippians (4:4). We will give more detailed attention to this particular instruction below. For the present, it is sufficient to note that this is the first of Paul’s quick-hit instructions, and that is likely no accident. Imperative rejoicing (as we will see below) is a function of being properly oriented or reoriented. And that is essential for the rest of these things to happen.
The second instruction is translated in various ways. The NIV renders it as “strive for full restoration,” while the NASB translates it as “mend your ways,” and the HCSB has it as “become mature.” Those are just a few examples, and they are all justifiable. The translation is tricky precisely because it is so succinct. There is no context — as there would be in a larger teaching about the command — but just the second-person-plural imperative form of the verb, and the verb can have several connotations. Whatever the best English word to capture the apostle’s meaning, we understand in any case his spirit. His instruction is aspirational: he means for the Christians in Corinth to aim high. We must not settle for what we are and where we’re at but strive for all that is God’s perfect will for us.
The next instruction means “be comforted” or “be encouraged.” That, like the imperative to rejoice, seems counterintuitive to us. And yet we know, do we not, that there are times when we refuse to be comforted. Times when we reject being encouraged. If there is comfort and encouragement available to us in Christ — and there always is! — then it is not unreasonable to receive an instruction to be comforted, to be encouraged.
Next, Paul urges the believers to be like-minded. We know, in virtually every area of life, that anything with value is likely to be counterfeited in some way. The forged painting, the counterfeit currency, the knockoff technology, the imitation jewels, and on and on. So, too, with the things of God. And this business of being like-minded is one of the most counterfeited things of value in our present culture. We crave and we seek a low-level brand of like-mindedness, socializing with people who think what we do about the things that are most important to us. We read the books and articles and blogs that think and say the same things we do. We listen to the news channels that reinforce what we already believe. The fact is that we have entrenched like-mindedness on every side in the United States today. The question is whether the church will rise above the partisan counterfeit and accomplish the real thing.
We have, of course, a sort of liturgical model for what we aspire to. When we recite any of the historic creeds of the church, we say, “I believe;” but we say it together, and we say the same thing. That symbolizes a crucial and high-level brand of like-mindedness. We aren’t settling for unity in small and transient things, like political candidates and proposed solutions to societal problems. Rather, we are finding our unity in affirming eternal truths together — life-changing, world-redeeming truths. This is the basis for our gathering together each week, this is what we preach, and this should be the grand like-mindedness that is the trump card for all the lesser things about which we may think differently.
Paul’s concluding exhortation was to “live in peace.” This, it might reasonably be argued, would be the natural byproduct of the preceding instructions. That is to say, if the church family checked each of the previous boxes, then living in peace would come quite naturally. Still, we know that there is always a choice involved. We see it in marriages, in families, in workplace settings — living in peace is a choice that some people make, and others eschew. The apostle is making the former an imperative for Christians.
Notably, after giving his list of instructions to the believers, Paul gives them an assurance of incalculable worth: “the God of love and peace will be with you.” Is that an unconditional guarantee, or is that a conditional promise? Surely the God of love and peace desires to be with us. From the Garden of Eden to the tabernacle to the incarnation to the new Jerusalem, this is what he wants. But, as always, we can make an environment that is suitable or not for his presence with us. Ask the people of Ezekiel’s day.
Finally, Paul has one last instruction: “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” This is a theme for Paul. He wrote it to the Romans (Romans 16:16), the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 5:26), and earlier to these Corinthians (1 Corinthians 16:20). People in our culture often get distracted by the “kiss” part of this instruction, but I think that misses the point. The real issue is less the “kiss” and more the “greet.” Greetings are immensely important in our relationships. We need only to reflect on a handful of examples from our own family life to see what a difference a good or bad greeting can make to an occasion, and over the course of the long haul to a relationship. And so, Paul urges the believers to greet one another with the warmth and intimacy that our relationships in Christ deserve.
Matthew 28:16-20
Each gospel writer has his own distinctive way of wrapping up his story. Matthew famously concludes his account of the Good News with a snapshot, a command, and a promise. The command is famously known as The Great Commission. But the other two elements of this brief scene are critical, as well.
The snapshot is the two-verse description of the scene where this final episode takes place. Following his resurrection, Jesus is meeting his disciples at a designated mountain in Galilee. It is a marvelous mixture of the familiar with the foreign. On the one hand, the disciples were well-acquainted hills of Galilee. They had traversed them with Jesus for several years. They were the familiar backdrop for so much of Jesus’ early ministry. And yet, on this particular Galilean hill, they were encountering the least familiar thing in the world: a man resurrected from the dead!
The mixture of the familiar with the foreign is mimicked by the responses of the disciples, for that, too, is a mixed bag. Matthew tells us that they worshiped Jesus, yet some were doubtful. And so, it always is with us human beings. Until the climactic day when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess, our responses to the Lord are always mixed: imperfect, divided, compromised.
The very snapshot of the moment itself, therefore, is a mixed one. On the one hand, there is the spectacle and glory of the risen Christ. On the other hand, there is the bewildered uncertainty of some of his disciples. He is all-victorious, yet they are still fumbling and faltering.
Against that backdrop, then, we see the command more clearly. The Lord is giving to them their marching orders: they are to go and make disciples of all nations. Yet what an improbable and unpromising group to carry on such an ambitious ministry. The original news about Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel was communicated to foreigners by a compelling star in the sky. And now that heralding of the gospel to the nations is being entrusted to vessels so much less bright, so much more dusty.
E.M. Bounds famously lamented the modern church’s constant search for new and better methods for advancing the church and the gospel. But human beings, Bounds insisted, are God’s method. And so, we see this principle at work from the start. Even though these human agents were a truly mixed bag, they were the Lord’s chosen method for doing his work. Neither stars nor angels are given this command: it is human beings who are sent into all the world in order to make disciples of Jesus Christ.
And then, finally, the scene concludes with a promise. It is right that Matthew should conclude his gospel with this assurance of Christ’s constant presence with them, for “Emmanuel — God with us” is how Matthew introduced Jesus to us at the beginning of his gospel. But more than a thematic technique of the gospel writer, this is a prevailing and recurring theme with the Lord himself.
The inclination to be “with” his creatures is evidenced when the Lord first comes walking in the Garden of Eden. The promise to be “with” was the divine reassurance to Moses, to Gideon, to Jeremiah, and to Ezekiel. His heart’s desire to be “with” his people was embodied in the tabernacle and the temple. And his radiant, sun-replacing, temple-replacing presence with his people is central to the revelation of the new Jerusalem. That Jesus should promise his disciples that he would be with them always, therefore, is a magnificent confirmation of what we see is the heart and the will of God from the very beginning to the very end of scripture.
Application
In Genesis, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit may be implicit in the creation story. In Matthew, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are explicit in the Great Commission. In both cases, it is the Lord himself who is speaking. And so, we are invited to consider what he reveals to us by what he has to say for himself.
Neither text is explanatory. That may be a disappointment to us, for we human beings are always looking for explanations. We are reminded of the provocative observation from the writer of Proverbs: “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out” (Proverbs 25:2 ESV). But the fact that these two texts are not explanatory does not preclude them from being revelatory.
First, we observe that the first “plural” creative statement in the creation account comes in the making of man. That is not to say that the three persons of the Trinity were not all engaged in all aspects of creation. We simply observe that the Lord’s previous words were spoken as imperatives that brought things into being. Now, however, the Lord speaks to himself. There is something personal and deliberate about this. If the plural pronouns are an indication of the Trinity, then it is hinted at from the very start that the Lord had in mind to involve us with himself (see, for example, John 17:20-26).
Second, as is well known, the human creatures are the only part of creation said to be made in his image. And, conspicuously, it is in reference to that image of God that these plural pronouns — these Trinitarian overtones — are found. Is it too much to suppose, therefore, that the very Triune nature of God is suggestive of how we are made in his image? Charles Wesley poetically referred to the human creatures, saying, “You who were designed to be transcripts of the Trinity.”*
If this latter point is quite correct, then it is in exploring what scripture reveals about the Trinity that we will find what we are meant to be. This matter, of course, deserves a book not a paragraph. But we note, at least, these principles. We are not to be solitary. We are meant to be in relationship. We are meant to experience oneness in our relationships. And we are meant to be characterized by love, and love which points to and glorifies the other rather than the self.
Fourth, we observe that the two texts where there is this Trinitarian language — whether implicit, as in Genesis, or explicit, as in Matthew — are both tied to God’s purpose and will for human beings. In the first instance, his will is that we should be like him. And, in the second instance, his will is that (a) the disciples should go and make disciples, and (b) that all nations should become Jesus’ obedient disciples. At first blush, the will of God in Genesis does not seem to resonate in any special way with the will of God in Matthew. Yet inasmuch as the disciple is to be like his teacher (see Luke 6:40), there may be more profound continuity than at first meets the eye.
Finally, we observe that these two Trinitarian passages are tied to creation and redemption. The significance of the Trinity in the creation account we have already noted. Meanwhile, the Matthew pericope features Jesus’ final instructions to his disciples, sending them out into the world to make disciples, which is central to the Lord’s endeavor to redeem, both individuals and the world. And so, we affirm the role of the whole Triune God in creation and redemption — and, specifically, in the creation and the redemption of human beings. It is, again, a testament to his intimate involvement with and loving will for us.
Can we explain to people’s satisfaction this Sunday how God is both three and one? I cannot. And I cannot even make much of a case that the Lord has endeavored to explain himself in scripture. But he has revealed himself in part, and all that he has revealed is profound, beautiful, and full of love.
Alternative Application(s)
2 Corinthians 13:11-13 — “Joy on Demand”
We noted above the perhaps surprising imperative that Paul gives to the Christians in Corinth. He tells them to rejoice, and he writes it as a second-person-plural-imperative. But what does it mean to receive “rejoice” as an instruction, as a command? Is it equivalent to our sometimes telling a child to “cheer up”? If so, it doesn’t seem like a helpful word for the apostle to write. After all, how can you command a person to feel a certain way?
Unless, of course, Paul isn’t talking about a feeling. It’s easy for us, in English, to associate “rejoice” with “feeling happy.” But let us try to draw a line in our minds between “rejoicing” and “feeling.” What if we treated “rejoice” the way we treat most other verbs: namely, as an action, as a thing we do? What if I hear Paul say “rejoice” the same way that I might hear him say “walk” or “read” or “carry”? In each case, of course, I may feel more or less like performing the action, but none of those actions is a feeling, and none of them truly requires me to feel a certain way for me to perform it. Perhaps “rejoice” might be treated the same way.
I suspect that Paul’s use of “rejoice” as an imperative is in the same spirit and tradition as the psalmist’s use of “praise” as an imperative in the Old Testament. It is a calling upon the people of God to do — at any given moment — what we should be continuously willing and able to do. And though, in both the case of “praise” and of “rejoice,” we may think that a certain mood or feeling is involved, biblical praising and rejoicing are not forms of manufactured or artificial enthusiasm. Rather, they are right and natural responses to who and what God is.
Perhaps we might use either some natural or manmade wonder as an analogy. For example, we could assemble certain facts about the Grand Canyon, the Great Pyramid of Giza, or Victoria Falls, and we could recite and present those facts to some audience. The presentation could be purely factual, and yet it would be hard not to transition from reporting into marveling. The facts about any of these things inspire within us wonder and awe.
How much more, then, if we were to assemble and recite the facts about God! Except that, in his case, they are not facts but truths. And we can never finish assembling the truths about him.
For the psalmist to tell his audience to praise the Lord, therefore, or for the apostle to instruct a congregation to rejoice in the Lord, is simply an exhortation for the people of God to remember who they’re dealing with. It is an encouragement to refocus, to reorient ourselves in such a way as to see again the nature, the deeds, and the character of God. And to do that will invariably give rise to praise and rejoicing.
* Charles Wesley, “Sinners, Turn: Why Will You Die,” UMH #346
Church historians and theologians will sometimes describe the doctrine of the Trinity as a “later development.” Except for the most jaded or skeptical, what they mean is that the framing of what the church believes about the Trinity came comparatively late in church history. No great explanatory statements are found in scripture. Instead, it was left to the later, ancient creeds of the church, coming out of the theological debates of their times, to hammer out appropriate affirmations of what we believe about the Trinity.
What may have been late developing on our end, however, is not a late development in scripture. True, the word “Trinity” does not appear anywhere in the biblical text. Yet references to the three persons of the Trinity are explicit in the New Testament. And, as our assigned Old Testament lection suggests, we may have a hint about the truth of the Trinity from the very beginning. For right in the midst of the creation story, we overhear a strange and unexplained divine plural — “Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness.”
Many readers, for a variety of understandable reasons, are keen to find other explanations for the surprising grammar. Perhaps the Lord was speaking to the heavenly host, a sort of divine council. Perhaps this is an example of a kind of “royal we.” Or perhaps, some might propose, this is even a vestige of Israel’s early polytheism (for some like to argue that monotheism came late to Jewish faith). Yet all of these explanations seem to be deliberate efforts to overlook the orthodox and altogether plausible source of the grammar: namely, that God is revealing the truth about himself from the very beginning.
At this point, of course, the debate shifts momentarily from what we believe about God to what we believe about scripture. Is it merely a human composition? If so, then we are left only to speculate about the theology and agenda of its various authors. But if it is divinely inspired, then all sorts of marvels are suddenly available to us. For it is quite obvious from the text itself that no human being was in place to hear these (or any of the earlier) creative words of God. But if it was the Lord himself who revealed to some human agent the pre-human words and events recorded in Genesis 1, then the Lord is revealing to us in this episode what he said. And if this is what he said, and if he is Triune, then there should be no surprise at all in him addressing himself in this plural way: “Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness.”
So the Trinity itself is not a late development; the doctrine of the Trinity is. In our preaching, then, perhaps we should set aside what is late and focus on what is original. That is to say, set aside the human struggle to comprehend what is incomprehensible, to express in words what is ineffable. Instead, let us focus on the biblical text and what the Lord reveals about himself within it.
Genesis 1:1--2:4
Our Old Testament assignment is to preach one of the most familiar — and in some circles, one of the most controversial — passages in the whole Bible. Genesis chapter 1 and the beginning of chapter 2 combine to tell the story of God creating “the heavens and the earth.” In an age of scientific skepticism, many details of these verses are debated and disputed. We cannot tackle those issues here, for whole books are devoted to those matters. We will satisfy ourselves simply to acknowledge what the text affirms.
First, the text affirms that God is the agent of creation. Over against the myths of the surrounding cultures, which featured all sorts of deified soap operas, as well as divine fiefdoms and conflicts, the Lord God stands alone and supreme over the creation process. He speaks, and it is. And all that he does is good.
The specific method by which God creates, incidentally, is significant. Again, we note that the contemporary ancient creation myths that surrounded biblical Israel ranged from amusing to goofy to disgusting. But the Lord God did not create by way of some battle or bodily function. He spoke creation into being, which introduces us from page one to the principle and truth of God’s authority. His word makes things happen. And that proves to be an ongoing theme.
Second, the text makes it plain that the Lord’s creation is not static: rather, it is purposely alive. This may be a detail that we take for granted simply because things are the way they are. But a sovereign creator could have made things any way that he wanted to, and so we presume that this particular design is an indication of his will. And the creation he designed is not a finished product in the sense that a painting or sculpture or piece of music might be. Rather, this creation is living and changing. He started it all, but he also designed it in such a way that it keeps going.
There is, of course, a certain vulnerability in that design. If his creation had been a fixed, a static thing, then its perfection could have been guaranteed, its full beauty preserved. But the creation was not immutable like its creator. And he left it in the charge of the particular creatures made in his image. And, well, we know the rest of the story.
Meanwhile, the purposely living and growing design of God’s creation brings us to a third observation that we make from the text: the importance of fruitfulness. This is essential to a creation that is living rather than static, you see. The trees bear fruit with the seed in it. The creatures are instructed to be fruitful and multiply. The human beings are instructed to be fruitful and multiply. And, if we were to turn the page to read the next chapter in the creation story, we would see that the special place God made for human beings is specifically characterized by fruitfulness. This is an important theme to note in the creation story, for it continues to reverberate throughout scripture (see, for example, Psalm 1:1-3, Matthew 3:7-10, Matthew 7:16-20, John 15:1-8, Galatians 5:22-23, Revelation 22:1-2).
Fourth, we observe that God’s creation is marked by orderliness. We sense that chaos prevails before he begins his work. And so, a recurring feature of his creative work is to separate: light from dark, day from night, water above from water below, and water from land. My wife likes to say of her perfect living environment, “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” That seems to be the look and feel of God’s accomplished creation.
Finally, we have space to make still one more general observation. The creation account pulses with the feeling of abundance. There is nothing sparse or bare about the scene that unfolds before the reader’s eyes. On the contrary, there are spaces filled with creatures and all sorts of life. This creation is alive, active, colorful, and varied. And in it, the Creator has no doubt revealed to us something of his nature and preferences.
There is, of course, so much, much more that can be said, for these foundational verses of scripture are pregnant with theological truth and profound implications. Our endeavor here in this brief space is simply to highlight a few of the broad-brush themes that characterize the story as a whole.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Our New Testament lection is brief, but dense. As is so often the case, the Apostle Paul concludes his epistle with a series of concise, almost bullet-point instructions. If any one of these principles were found earlier in the epistle, the apostle might have devoted seven to ten verses to elaborating on it. Instead, however, these are quick-hit kinds of precepts that Paul wants to communicate before he says goodbye.
In this regard, we may recognize the genre, not only as typical of Paul’s ancient letters, but perhaps also as typical of our daily goodbyes. I think especially of how parents say goodbye to their children. So often, love and concern give rise to a quick series of reminders and instructions: things we want our kids to keep in mind while they are out there in the world away from us. So, too, with the Apostle Paul and his spiritual children in Corinth.
“Rejoice” as an imperative verb may sound strange in our day. It is not foreign to Paul, of course, as we remember his famous and emphatic word to the Philippians (4:4). We will give more detailed attention to this particular instruction below. For the present, it is sufficient to note that this is the first of Paul’s quick-hit instructions, and that is likely no accident. Imperative rejoicing (as we will see below) is a function of being properly oriented or reoriented. And that is essential for the rest of these things to happen.
The second instruction is translated in various ways. The NIV renders it as “strive for full restoration,” while the NASB translates it as “mend your ways,” and the HCSB has it as “become mature.” Those are just a few examples, and they are all justifiable. The translation is tricky precisely because it is so succinct. There is no context — as there would be in a larger teaching about the command — but just the second-person-plural imperative form of the verb, and the verb can have several connotations. Whatever the best English word to capture the apostle’s meaning, we understand in any case his spirit. His instruction is aspirational: he means for the Christians in Corinth to aim high. We must not settle for what we are and where we’re at but strive for all that is God’s perfect will for us.
The next instruction means “be comforted” or “be encouraged.” That, like the imperative to rejoice, seems counterintuitive to us. And yet we know, do we not, that there are times when we refuse to be comforted. Times when we reject being encouraged. If there is comfort and encouragement available to us in Christ — and there always is! — then it is not unreasonable to receive an instruction to be comforted, to be encouraged.
Next, Paul urges the believers to be like-minded. We know, in virtually every area of life, that anything with value is likely to be counterfeited in some way. The forged painting, the counterfeit currency, the knockoff technology, the imitation jewels, and on and on. So, too, with the things of God. And this business of being like-minded is one of the most counterfeited things of value in our present culture. We crave and we seek a low-level brand of like-mindedness, socializing with people who think what we do about the things that are most important to us. We read the books and articles and blogs that think and say the same things we do. We listen to the news channels that reinforce what we already believe. The fact is that we have entrenched like-mindedness on every side in the United States today. The question is whether the church will rise above the partisan counterfeit and accomplish the real thing.
We have, of course, a sort of liturgical model for what we aspire to. When we recite any of the historic creeds of the church, we say, “I believe;” but we say it together, and we say the same thing. That symbolizes a crucial and high-level brand of like-mindedness. We aren’t settling for unity in small and transient things, like political candidates and proposed solutions to societal problems. Rather, we are finding our unity in affirming eternal truths together — life-changing, world-redeeming truths. This is the basis for our gathering together each week, this is what we preach, and this should be the grand like-mindedness that is the trump card for all the lesser things about which we may think differently.
Paul’s concluding exhortation was to “live in peace.” This, it might reasonably be argued, would be the natural byproduct of the preceding instructions. That is to say, if the church family checked each of the previous boxes, then living in peace would come quite naturally. Still, we know that there is always a choice involved. We see it in marriages, in families, in workplace settings — living in peace is a choice that some people make, and others eschew. The apostle is making the former an imperative for Christians.
Notably, after giving his list of instructions to the believers, Paul gives them an assurance of incalculable worth: “the God of love and peace will be with you.” Is that an unconditional guarantee, or is that a conditional promise? Surely the God of love and peace desires to be with us. From the Garden of Eden to the tabernacle to the incarnation to the new Jerusalem, this is what he wants. But, as always, we can make an environment that is suitable or not for his presence with us. Ask the people of Ezekiel’s day.
Finally, Paul has one last instruction: “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” This is a theme for Paul. He wrote it to the Romans (Romans 16:16), the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 5:26), and earlier to these Corinthians (1 Corinthians 16:20). People in our culture often get distracted by the “kiss” part of this instruction, but I think that misses the point. The real issue is less the “kiss” and more the “greet.” Greetings are immensely important in our relationships. We need only to reflect on a handful of examples from our own family life to see what a difference a good or bad greeting can make to an occasion, and over the course of the long haul to a relationship. And so, Paul urges the believers to greet one another with the warmth and intimacy that our relationships in Christ deserve.
Matthew 28:16-20
Each gospel writer has his own distinctive way of wrapping up his story. Matthew famously concludes his account of the Good News with a snapshot, a command, and a promise. The command is famously known as The Great Commission. But the other two elements of this brief scene are critical, as well.
The snapshot is the two-verse description of the scene where this final episode takes place. Following his resurrection, Jesus is meeting his disciples at a designated mountain in Galilee. It is a marvelous mixture of the familiar with the foreign. On the one hand, the disciples were well-acquainted hills of Galilee. They had traversed them with Jesus for several years. They were the familiar backdrop for so much of Jesus’ early ministry. And yet, on this particular Galilean hill, they were encountering the least familiar thing in the world: a man resurrected from the dead!
The mixture of the familiar with the foreign is mimicked by the responses of the disciples, for that, too, is a mixed bag. Matthew tells us that they worshiped Jesus, yet some were doubtful. And so, it always is with us human beings. Until the climactic day when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess, our responses to the Lord are always mixed: imperfect, divided, compromised.
The very snapshot of the moment itself, therefore, is a mixed one. On the one hand, there is the spectacle and glory of the risen Christ. On the other hand, there is the bewildered uncertainty of some of his disciples. He is all-victorious, yet they are still fumbling and faltering.
Against that backdrop, then, we see the command more clearly. The Lord is giving to them their marching orders: they are to go and make disciples of all nations. Yet what an improbable and unpromising group to carry on such an ambitious ministry. The original news about Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel was communicated to foreigners by a compelling star in the sky. And now that heralding of the gospel to the nations is being entrusted to vessels so much less bright, so much more dusty.
E.M. Bounds famously lamented the modern church’s constant search for new and better methods for advancing the church and the gospel. But human beings, Bounds insisted, are God’s method. And so, we see this principle at work from the start. Even though these human agents were a truly mixed bag, they were the Lord’s chosen method for doing his work. Neither stars nor angels are given this command: it is human beings who are sent into all the world in order to make disciples of Jesus Christ.
And then, finally, the scene concludes with a promise. It is right that Matthew should conclude his gospel with this assurance of Christ’s constant presence with them, for “Emmanuel — God with us” is how Matthew introduced Jesus to us at the beginning of his gospel. But more than a thematic technique of the gospel writer, this is a prevailing and recurring theme with the Lord himself.
The inclination to be “with” his creatures is evidenced when the Lord first comes walking in the Garden of Eden. The promise to be “with” was the divine reassurance to Moses, to Gideon, to Jeremiah, and to Ezekiel. His heart’s desire to be “with” his people was embodied in the tabernacle and the temple. And his radiant, sun-replacing, temple-replacing presence with his people is central to the revelation of the new Jerusalem. That Jesus should promise his disciples that he would be with them always, therefore, is a magnificent confirmation of what we see is the heart and the will of God from the very beginning to the very end of scripture.
Application
In Genesis, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit may be implicit in the creation story. In Matthew, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are explicit in the Great Commission. In both cases, it is the Lord himself who is speaking. And so, we are invited to consider what he reveals to us by what he has to say for himself.
Neither text is explanatory. That may be a disappointment to us, for we human beings are always looking for explanations. We are reminded of the provocative observation from the writer of Proverbs: “It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out” (Proverbs 25:2 ESV). But the fact that these two texts are not explanatory does not preclude them from being revelatory.
First, we observe that the first “plural” creative statement in the creation account comes in the making of man. That is not to say that the three persons of the Trinity were not all engaged in all aspects of creation. We simply observe that the Lord’s previous words were spoken as imperatives that brought things into being. Now, however, the Lord speaks to himself. There is something personal and deliberate about this. If the plural pronouns are an indication of the Trinity, then it is hinted at from the very start that the Lord had in mind to involve us with himself (see, for example, John 17:20-26).
Second, as is well known, the human creatures are the only part of creation said to be made in his image. And, conspicuously, it is in reference to that image of God that these plural pronouns — these Trinitarian overtones — are found. Is it too much to suppose, therefore, that the very Triune nature of God is suggestive of how we are made in his image? Charles Wesley poetically referred to the human creatures, saying, “You who were designed to be transcripts of the Trinity.”*
If this latter point is quite correct, then it is in exploring what scripture reveals about the Trinity that we will find what we are meant to be. This matter, of course, deserves a book not a paragraph. But we note, at least, these principles. We are not to be solitary. We are meant to be in relationship. We are meant to experience oneness in our relationships. And we are meant to be characterized by love, and love which points to and glorifies the other rather than the self.
Fourth, we observe that the two texts where there is this Trinitarian language — whether implicit, as in Genesis, or explicit, as in Matthew — are both tied to God’s purpose and will for human beings. In the first instance, his will is that we should be like him. And, in the second instance, his will is that (a) the disciples should go and make disciples, and (b) that all nations should become Jesus’ obedient disciples. At first blush, the will of God in Genesis does not seem to resonate in any special way with the will of God in Matthew. Yet inasmuch as the disciple is to be like his teacher (see Luke 6:40), there may be more profound continuity than at first meets the eye.
Finally, we observe that these two Trinitarian passages are tied to creation and redemption. The significance of the Trinity in the creation account we have already noted. Meanwhile, the Matthew pericope features Jesus’ final instructions to his disciples, sending them out into the world to make disciples, which is central to the Lord’s endeavor to redeem, both individuals and the world. And so, we affirm the role of the whole Triune God in creation and redemption — and, specifically, in the creation and the redemption of human beings. It is, again, a testament to his intimate involvement with and loving will for us.
Can we explain to people’s satisfaction this Sunday how God is both three and one? I cannot. And I cannot even make much of a case that the Lord has endeavored to explain himself in scripture. But he has revealed himself in part, and all that he has revealed is profound, beautiful, and full of love.
Alternative Application(s)
2 Corinthians 13:11-13 — “Joy on Demand”
We noted above the perhaps surprising imperative that Paul gives to the Christians in Corinth. He tells them to rejoice, and he writes it as a second-person-plural-imperative. But what does it mean to receive “rejoice” as an instruction, as a command? Is it equivalent to our sometimes telling a child to “cheer up”? If so, it doesn’t seem like a helpful word for the apostle to write. After all, how can you command a person to feel a certain way?
Unless, of course, Paul isn’t talking about a feeling. It’s easy for us, in English, to associate “rejoice” with “feeling happy.” But let us try to draw a line in our minds between “rejoicing” and “feeling.” What if we treated “rejoice” the way we treat most other verbs: namely, as an action, as a thing we do? What if I hear Paul say “rejoice” the same way that I might hear him say “walk” or “read” or “carry”? In each case, of course, I may feel more or less like performing the action, but none of those actions is a feeling, and none of them truly requires me to feel a certain way for me to perform it. Perhaps “rejoice” might be treated the same way.
I suspect that Paul’s use of “rejoice” as an imperative is in the same spirit and tradition as the psalmist’s use of “praise” as an imperative in the Old Testament. It is a calling upon the people of God to do — at any given moment — what we should be continuously willing and able to do. And though, in both the case of “praise” and of “rejoice,” we may think that a certain mood or feeling is involved, biblical praising and rejoicing are not forms of manufactured or artificial enthusiasm. Rather, they are right and natural responses to who and what God is.
Perhaps we might use either some natural or manmade wonder as an analogy. For example, we could assemble certain facts about the Grand Canyon, the Great Pyramid of Giza, or Victoria Falls, and we could recite and present those facts to some audience. The presentation could be purely factual, and yet it would be hard not to transition from reporting into marveling. The facts about any of these things inspire within us wonder and awe.
How much more, then, if we were to assemble and recite the facts about God! Except that, in his case, they are not facts but truths. And we can never finish assembling the truths about him.
For the psalmist to tell his audience to praise the Lord, therefore, or for the apostle to instruct a congregation to rejoice in the Lord, is simply an exhortation for the people of God to remember who they’re dealing with. It is an encouragement to refocus, to reorient ourselves in such a way as to see again the nature, the deeds, and the character of God. And to do that will invariably give rise to praise and rejoicing.
* Charles Wesley, “Sinners, Turn: Why Will You Die,” UMH #346
