Tryin' Triune Grace

Christians uniquely worship a God who cannot be contained. Not in a box. Not in a book. Not in a sermon. Not in your mind, either. As you try to pin him down over here, he pops up over there. As you struggle to grasp his presence in front of you, he taps you on the back to remind you that he’s also behind you.

1 Kings 8:27, Isaiah 55:8-9, Romans 11:33-34, John 3:8, Psalm 139:5-7, Isaiah 40:25-26.

The mark of false monotheistic religions, therefore, is the shrink-wrapped finitude of the god they worship. To cite an example with which I am familiar, Christadelphians believe God eternally exists in a body; yet is unable to take on human nature for the suffering of death. Being unipersonal, he eternally lacks the self-contained capacity for fellowship and love (by definition), despite somehow being love (1 John 4:16). Christadelphians often misinterpret John 17:3 as meaning ‘life eternal is to comprehend God’, rather than ‘life eternal is to know God’.

Such false religions, having a form of godliness, usually worship a single person of the Trinity, with disastrous consequences. As the Psalm says, you become what you worship; by extension, you don’t become what you don’t worship, too:

• Those who worship the Father alone (e.g., Christadelphians) often rightly emphasise reverent worship, leading to piety and submission. Since they do not worship the Son, however, — the one who got his hands dirty by becoming one of us — there is very little incarnational realism to their worship. Their religion exists in a theoretical la-la land, in which sin is confessed with a generic perfunctoriness – “Father, we confess our sins before you, because we know we often fall short.” And since God never condescended to our level, it is up to us to pull ourselves up to his — by our bootstraps.

• Those who worship the Son alone (e.g., many Evangelical churches, however unwittingly) often rightly emphasise the condescension of God to become incarnate as a man. Since they do not worship the Father, however, — the one who is worthy of utter awe and respect — their worship often devolves into cringeworthy, effeminate songs about how “Jesus is my bestie, and I like it when he hugs me.”

• Those who worship the Spirit alone (e.g., many Pentecostal churches, however unwittingly) often have a commendable animation and liveliness in their worship. Since they do not worship the ones who sent the Spirit, however, they lack the doctrinal structure and theological purpose of their worship. They are the fire without a fireplace.

True worship doesn’t fixate on one person of the Trinity at the expense of others. It doesn’t flatten God into a manageable shape or reduce the divine mystery to a personality quiz. True worship is Trinitarian, and the reason is quite apart from fancy theology. It’s because it’s the only kind that actually worships the God who is.

To worship the Father is to bow before the one who made heaven and earth, whose name is to be hallowed, whose throne is in the heavens, and whose authority is unshakeable.

To worship the Son is to rejoice in the scandal of the incarnation. To revel in the fact that the purest Word became the dirtiest flesh and dwelt among us. It is to love the God who became killable, who sweated blood and washed feet.

To worship the Spirit is to enter into communion, joy, and holy fire. It is to experience the God who empowers conviction. It is to allow our hearts to be filled with the poured-out love of the Father and Son — and sometimes forget to say “when”.

Trinitarian worship is structured, not stiff. It is doctrinal, not dry. It evokes emotions, but is not unhinged.

This changes the worshipper into a vibrant, joyous, disciplined, real-world brother or sister.

Because you become what you worship.