In the Beginning...

Trinity by Kelly Latimore Icons.

Texts: Genesis 1:1-2:4

Matthew 28:16-20

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In the beginning...

God created the heavens and the earth.

God separated the light from the darkness—day and night.

And at the end of that first day, God paused, looked upon this rough sketch of creation… in all its binary simplicity… and saw that it was good.

What begins as a story about opposites—about binaries—quickly becomes increasingly complicated… 

God separates the waters above from the waters below.

The land from the seas.

Then God fills the earth with plants yielding seed and fruit trees of every kind.

The sky with stars, and the sun and the moon, to mark the seasons. 

Fills the waters with swarms of living creatures.

The air with birds of every kind.

The seas with great sea monsters.

The earth with cattle and creeping things and wild animals.

And each day… after creating each new cosmic layer, after adding each new expression of life... God takes a step back to gaze upon her handiwork—and she sees that it was good!

On the sixth day…God wants to create something new… 

but this time she takes some divine self inspiration. 

“Let us make humans in our image, according to our likeness…

So God created humankind in God's image.

In the image of God, God created them.

Male and female, God created them.

As that sixth day came to a close God looked at all she had created… 

The sky ablaze with fiery oranges and pinks as the sun slipped beyond the horizon. 

The various landscapes and ecosystems teeming with life… 

The oceans, full with fish.

The prairies, crawling with cattle and wild animals… 

The forests’ trees heavy with fruit… 

And humanity stood among it all, bearing the image of the Creator.

She gazed upon everything that she had made—this whole breathtaking tapestry of creation, in all its colors, textures, variations, and complexity—and saw that it was not just good, but very good!

And so on the seventh day God took a nap. 

...

So much has been said about this ancient account of our creation.  

Before the advent of earth science, many believed the story of Genesis to be a literal, factual account of how the world came to be. Some today still cling to this explanation. 

Over the centuries, Genesis 1 has often been treated as the key to understanding humanity's place within creation. We  have asked the text to help us understand humanity’s relationship to the rest of creation and our own relationships. We have used it to explain gender, sexuality, marriage, and family life.

Many anti-LGBTQ interpreters focus specifically on Genesis as a story of one particularly rigid binary category—male and female. 

The logic goes something like this: God created the world according to these categories, and therefore anyone who lives outside them must be rejecting God's design.

Men are men. Women are women. End of discussion.

But when we look more closely at creation itself, the picture becomes much more interesting.

Between the categories of day and night, there is dawn and dusk.

Between the categories of land and sea, there are marshes, wetlands, shorelines, and estuaries where rivers and oceans and landscapes meet.

There are creatures like amphibians that move between water and land. And then there are platypuses, which seem determined to confuse taxonomists altogether.

When we bring that same attentiveness to human experience, we discover similar complexity.

We encounter intersex people whose bodies do not fit neatly into binary definitions of sex.

We encounter transgender and nonbinary people whose experience of gender differs from what they were assigned at birth.

We encounter gay, lesbian, and bisexual people who expand our understanding of marriage beyond a patriarchal arrangement of property and procreation, but a relationship of true mutuality, care, and love. 

The point here is that God blesses the whole of creation—not only the categories that are named, but the whole of creation.

Genesis gives us a poetic account of creation, not an exhaustive catalog of every possible form of life. The author names broad categories, but creation itself is far more diverse, textured, and complex than any list can contain.

The beauty of creation is not that every creature fits perfectly into a box

.he beauty of creation is the countless ways life spills joyfully beyond our boxes.

Genesis describes a world where diverse realities coexist peacefully and holistically within God's good creation.

The Creator delights in the whole of creation..

The Creator delights in the wholeness of creation. 

A God who delights in diversity held together in wholeness is not difficult to imagine when we remember that God is not a solitary being themselves, but relational. A God of three bound together in holy oneness.  

I speak now of the Trinity. 

The Trinity—that great theological puzzle, the impossible equation at the heart of our faith—One God in Three Persons. 

Unity in diversity. 

Distinction without division. 

Relationship without hierarchy. 

That "one divine essence in three co-eternal, consubstantial persons" as they say.

The God, in whose three names —Father, Son, Holy Spirit—Matthew 28:19 says every follower of Jesus is to be baptized.  

Some of you probably know that the Trinity is not a concept explicitly found in the Bible. Rather, it is a theological understanding that emerged during the centuries after Jesus' life. Reading about the Creator revealed in Israel's story, the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, and the presence of the Holy Spirit in the church, theologians gradually arrived at the language of the Trinity to describe the God they encountered in scripture.

I think that is important to keep in mind. Over the centuries, the church has often been fiercely divided over questions of exactly how God should be understood. The Trinity was an especially hot questions in the 4th century. Theologians asked themselves what precise words were required? Which formulations are orthodox and which are heretical? And often these theological explanations determined who was considered "in" and who was considered "out."

Yet beneath all those debates, all that history, all that hurt lies a simpler truth: the Trinity is human language reaching toward a divine reality that ultimately exceeds our understanding.

Some Christians have responded to the limitation of such an attempt by rejecting the concept altogether. Others have clung tightly to particular formulations, as though getting the equation exactly right were the point.

But certainty or dismissal are not our only options.

Human language will always fall short when speaking about God. Every name, every image, every doctrine captures something true, while also leaving something out. Yet the limitations of our language do not mean we should stop speaking. They simply invite us to speak with humility.

The doctrine of the Trinity is not a mathematical puzzle to solve so much as a reminder that God is always larger than our categories. Larger than our definitions. Larger than our ability to describe. And perhaps that is fitting for a God who delights in a creation that is itself so wonderfully complex, diverse, and full of mystery.

The reason this Genesis passage is read on Trinity Sunday is that many interpreters perceive the activity of the Triune God throughout this creation account. 

The first person of the Trinity, the Creator, is front and center. 

The third person, the Spirit, is gestured toward in the description of "a wind from God" sweeping over the waters. 

The second person seems absent at first glance, except that the Gospel of John reminds us, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God."

Thus many Christian interpreters have imagined that when God creates the world through divine speech, that Christ, as the Word, participates in creation while the Spirit accompanies the whole unfolding process.

As we begin this series, "Shades of Belonging," I think Genesis offers us a powerful vision of what belonging looks like.

One definition of belonging is this:

”Belonging is a felt sense in our bodies of safety, power, wholeness, and welcome" (Brian Stout, Bridging Toward Belonging.)

Our culture, especially here in the American West, often prizes independence above all else. Yet we see the cost all around us. Too many people are lonely. Too many suffer in silence. Too many are taught that needing others is a sign of weakness. 

But the Trinity reminds us that relationship is not a deficiency to overcome. Relationship is woven into the very life of God.

And if we bear God's image, as Genesis says, then it is woven into us as well.

We need one another—not only when life falls apart, but always. Community is not an optional accessory to human flourishing. It is part of how God created us to live.

That truth feels especially important as we begin Pride Month.

Recent studies show that when asked about how recent anti-LGBTQ+ policies, laws, and debates, such as Wyoming’s Bathroom Bill,  affected them, 90% of LGBTQ+ young people said that they caused them stress or anxiety.

78% of LGBTQ+ young people said it made them feel unsafe, including 86% of trans and gender-nonconforming young people.

And 32% LGBTQ+ young people said it made them or their family consider moving to a different state. 

In the last year, I have spoken to numerous families both here in Cheyenne, and in other parts of the country that are making the same considerations. 

When people are othered—the exact opposite of belonging— they feel it in their bodies. When communities communicate that you are unwelcome or unwanted, the consequences can be light threatening. Which is why, during times like now, we must be reminded of the salvific nature of community.  Belonging is not merely a nice idea. Inclusive communities save lives. 

The good news of Genesis is that belonging was woven into creation from the very beginning. Gazing upon a world brimming with life, overflowing with diversity, and bound together by relationships of mutuality, the Creator leaned back and declared it very good.

Here we see a portrait of our contemporary definition of belonging—that felt sense of safety, wholeness, welcome.

A world where every creature has a place.

A world where diversity is not a problem to be solved but a gift to be celebrated.

A world where wholeness emerges not from sameness, but from relationship.

And if God delights in the wholeness of creation—then surely we are called to do the same.

This sermon was preached by Rev. Delaney on 5/31/26.