Not long ago there were some interesting articles written about songs that had changed the world. Some of the songs highlighted were those which helped fight oppression, others brought a sense of unity to fractured groups or nations, some brought hidden pain out into the open, and still others were like divine interventions which saved people from suicide, self-destructive behavior or even broad disasters like famine. This Sunday we will be discussing a song that didn't make any of the lists and yet could easily be argued as one of the most powerful ancient songs the world has ever known. I'm referring to the hymn which comes from Colossians 1:15-20, which sings about the identity and actions of Jesus in the world. And let me tell you - this song sings! What does this song sing?
First, it’s by looking at Jesus that we discover who God is.
The song is fierce in stating that Jesus is the “image of the invisible God,” the “fullness” of God. The ancient church also stated it this way: Jesus is homoousia with the Father. Literally, of one substance which can sound utterly odd and abstract to us. Yet this word should be one of the most exciting words in our vocabulary, telling us that who Jesus is and what Jesus is doing is one with the essence of God. The early church had a delightful image for this challenging reality: light one candle from another, and you don’t have any less of the first flame and you have a second flame as bright and hot as the first. The Son truly shares the living flame of God’s nature with no qualification or lessening. He is the character and nature of the living God made visible. What God shows himself to be in Jesus is simply who he always is; he doesn’t decide to be like Jesus for thirty-odd years but was so from the very beginning. One theologian said it this way: God is Christlike and in him there is no unChristlikeness at all. The song sings the fullness of God was made visible through him.
Second, the world and everything in it is Jesus’ place.
Paul and the early church were not content like so many Evangelicals to describe reality as spiritual and non-spiritual, with the former being that which is most real, most sacred, more deserving of our attention. But this song sings a different tune. Our days on this planet are a time-share in a gorgeous condo that is not our own. It won’t simply do to say – well, “We’re on vacation. It’s not our place. Who cares if we trash it a bit?” No, the song wants to remind us, and by “remind us,” I mean repeat incessantly, almost annoyingly, that “all things” were created, “all things” came into being, “all things” were formed, sustained, held together, by Jesus, through Jesus, and for Jesus. When the lavish and generous beauty of the world makes you catch your breath, remember that it is like that because of Jesus. Our mission then is to live in such a way that the world and all that is in it sees that it belongs to Jesus, that it is stamped with Jesus, that he is marked for Jesus, that she is already connected to Jesus. There is no such thing as a sacred and secular divide. This is what I love about Sue Enyeart’s testimony that she feels the joy of God by petting her dog, looking at trees, listening to birds. Wow, she sounds a lot like Jesus who said, “Look at the flowers . . . observe the birds” (Matt. 6:25-34). I’m not saying that things and people don’t need to experience redemption. I’m saying, with the Apostle Paul, that everyone and everything that needs redemption already belongs to Jesus. This world and everything in it, the song sings, is Jesus’ house.
Third, God was pleased . . .
Do you imagine that God is ever pleased? Stop and take a moment. Who do you imagine God to be? God is not the displeased actor in this drama the Bible wishes to tell. God is not the vengeful cowboy of this movie – seeking to kill everyone out of revenge and rage, like so many classic westerns. We should follow the text closely at this point: “For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things.” This is admittedly making the same point as point #1 but from a different angle, a different twist: that whatever we are to make of what transpires on the cross was not some weird exchange by which Jesus does something that God doesn’t want to do or somehow calms the supposed anger of God who needed to kill somebody. God doesn’t need to be reconciled. We do. There is a very dangerous set of ideas out there about sin, God, redemption and Jesus that goes something like this: God is angry because of sin and needs to crush us out of justice but Jesus loves us and satisfies God so that God can be reconciled to us. But the song isn’t saying that Christ changes the mind of God toward us sinful human beings and forces God reluctantly to be for us instead of against us; rather, Jesus is the deepest expression of God’s desire to be with us and for us. God is not two-faced (needing to somehow kill us and save us at the same time). Sin doesn’t change God. It changes us. Jesus doesn’t save us from God because the whole mission of the cross was a joint, collaborative, unified effort of redemption by the Father, Son and Holy Spirit to save us from sin.
It's perhaps the greatest film of the 1980s – filled with well-known one-liners, heart-warming characters and a memorable kick to the face. I’m of course talking about the movie Karate Kid. In what might be one of the more memorable scenes, Daniel LaRusso is asked by Mr. Miyagi to do a series of mundane chores: sand the floor, wax the cars, and paint the house – all in very strange ways: up/down, wax on/wax off, side/side. In a moment of frustration, Daniel complains that he is acting like Mr. Miyagi’s servant and learning nothing about Karate, which Mr. Miyagi promised to teach him. And that’s when Mr. Miyagi asks Daniel, “Show me sand the floor.” And what follows is the amazing moment in which Daniel realizes that the repeated actions were teaching him karate and he didn’t even know it. That’s what’s happening today. This song is a Miyagi-like move to teach us about something very important that is often misunderstood - the Trinity.
So I’m teaching you something about the doctrine of the Trinity that is significant and important. The first is often referred to as the rule of appropriation and could be stated in this way: according to the Scriptures, all the works of God are indivisible. There is only One God who is Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. To put it another way, all of God is involved in everything God does. This means whether we are speaking about creation (John 1:3), salvation (2 Cor. 5:19), or sanctification (Eph. 5:26), we are speaking about one God. If we look more closely at creation, for example, this has a number of significant features to counteract popular errors about a Christians response to climate change, for example. A proper doctrine of the Trinity thus points out that the will and actions of Jesus on our behalf are not different to the will and actions of God the Father – what Jesus does and says ARE the Father’s words and actions. Jesus does not change the mind of God toward us sinful human beings or force God reluctantly to be for us; rather, Jesus is the deepest expression of God’s creating, redeeming and sustaining love.
The second rule of trinitarian thinking is less apparent in Colossians but nonetheless apparent in Scripture and moves us from an emphasis on what the triune God does to a discussion of who the triune God is – a divine community who lives with and for and in one another in mutual openness, and self-giving love. This is referred to as the rule of perichoresis, which literally means to go around together, to be in-step together. One of the ancient symbols for this reality is our own Triquetra, Trinitarian knot, which highlights a never-ending movement of giving and receiving. The modern word for this is social trinitarianism that upends our sense of individualism and hierarchical relationships because God is a “pleased” community of self-giving love, of obedience and submission, of sharing and receiving, and that relationship, that image of God, is also meant to shape our sense of community. And that’s my final Miyagi move today – will we be “pleased” to dwell together as a church, with Jesus, for Jesus, in mutual togetherness like God has revealed in Jesus? Will we be a pleasing image of the invisible God? Will you be pleased to dwell with others here, in this place, like that symbol?
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