Sunday, May 31, 2026

Sent Into The Life of God


Genesis 1:1-2:4a 

Psalm 8

2 Corinthians 13:11-13 

Matthew 28:16-20


© 2026 The Rev. Seth Olson


 

This sermon was delivered at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL on Trinity Sunday. A video of the message may be found here


Holy God, may my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen. 


Today is Trinity Sunday, which means this is the Sunday when preachers everywhere are either coming up with some terribly inaccurate analogies, being tempted to explain too much, or feeling like they must apologize for not being able to explain enough.


Because the Trinity is not easy.


One God in three persons.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Not three gods.

Not one God wearing three different masks.

Not a math problem where one plus one plus one somehow equals one.


And honestly, if we try to make the Trinity small enough to fit neatly inside our minds, we usually end up making God too small. So today, instead of trying to solve the Trinity like a riddle, I want us to begin where the Gospel begins: with eleven disciples on a mountain in Galilee.


Matthew tells us that the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him, they worshiped him. But some doubted. That may be one of the most honest lines in all of Scripture.


They saw the risen Jesus.

They worshiped him.

And some doubted.


Their faith and their uncertainty were standing on the same mountain.


And Jesus does not shame them for it. He does not divide them into the good disciples and the questionable disciples. He does not say, “Those of you with complete confidence may come forward, and the rest of you can take some time to work on yourselves.”


He gives the same commission to the whole imperfect group. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.”


In other words: you do not have to be completely certain before you can be sent.You do not have to have everything figured out before you can participate in the life and mission of God.


You do not have to be perfect before Christ can use you as a witness to grace. That is good news for the Church. It is good news for Holy Apostles. And it is good news for anyone who has ever loved Jesus and still had questions. Anyone who has ever worshiped and still wondered. Anyone who has ever shown up carrying both faith and doubt, both devotion and exhaustion, both hope and fear.


The risen Christ meets the disciples as they are. And then he sends them. But notice what Jesus sends them to do. He does not say, “Go win arguments.” He does not say, “Go build an institution.” He does not say, “Go protect your own comfort.”


He says, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”


This is what we in the Church call the Great Commission. But sometimes I think we have heard it too narrowly.


To make disciples is not simply to get people to join our side. It is not merely to increase religious market share. It is not to pressure people into agreement. A disciple is a learner. An apprentice. Someone whose life is slowly being shaped by the way of Jesus.


So when Jesus sends the disciples, he sends them to invite others into a way of life: the way of mercy, forgiveness, courage, humility, justice, welcome, peace, and self-giving love.


He sends them to baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. And that is where Trinity Sunday and the Great Commission kiss. 


The Trinity is not first an abstract doctrine to be explained. The Trinity is the life of God into which we are baptized. 


We are baptized into the name of the God who creates the heavens and the earth and calls them good. 


We are baptized into the name of the Son who takes on flesh, touches the untouchable, welcomes the sinner, forgives the enemy, washes feet, and lays down his life in love.


We are baptized into the name of the Holy Spirit, who breathes courage into frightened disciples, gathers divided people into communion, and sends ordinary human beings into the world as bearers of divine love.


The Trinity tells us that at the heart of all things is not loneliness. Not domination. Not fear. Not violence. Not isolation. At the heart of all things is communion. Relationship. Self-giving love.


God is not a solitary monarch sitting far away from the world. God is living love. Love given, love received, love shared. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And Jesus invites us into that life.


That is the point. Not that we would be able to define God perfectly, but that we would be swept up into the life of God and then sent out to live that divine life in the world. And that is where today’s Good News becomes very particular for us, Holy Apostles.


We bear the name “Apostles.” We are not only Holy People Gathered in a Church Building. We are Holy Apostles. Set apart and sent.


That does not mean we are impressive. The first apostles were not impressive in the way the world usually measures impressiveness. They were incomplete. They were uncertain. They were still carrying failure and grief. Some worshiped and some doubted, and maybe some did both at the same time.


And still Jesus sent them. So perhaps being Holy Apostles does not mean being the people who have everything figured out. Perhaps it means being a community willing to be drawn into the self-giving love of God and then sent back into Hoover, Shelby County, Birmingham, our homes, our schools, our workplaces, our neighborhoods, our friendships, our families, and all the ordinary places where human beings are aching to know that they are loved.


This is what we are sent to live. The grace of Jesus Christ. The love of God. The communion of the Holy Spirit.


That is how Paul says it in Second Corinthians. And it is more than a beautiful blessing at the end of a letter. It is a pattern for the Church. Grace. Love. Communion.


What if those became the marks of Holy Apostles? What if people encountered this parish and said, “That is a community where grace is real”? 


What if people came among us and discovered not a perfect church, but a loving one?


What if our life together became an invitation into communion in a lonely and fragmented world?


That is the divine life. And that is the mission.


And today, we hear this Gospel on a day when we are also saying thank you and farewell to Derek Kluz, who has helped lead this community in song for the last ten years. There is something deeply fitting about this.


Because music has a way of doing what doctrine alone cannot always do. Music can carry us into communion. Music can teach us how to breathe together. It can gather many voices into one song without making every voice the same.


For a decade, Derek has helped us sing the faith. He has helped us pray when words alone were not enough. He has helped us praise, grieve, rejoice, remember, and hope.


And now, on the Sunday of the Great Commission, we bless him as he is sent into a new chapter. That does not mean the communion ends. It means love moves outward. That is how the life of God works. The love of God is never stagnant. It creates. It gathers. It blesses. It sends.


Derek is being sent. And so are we.


Not in the same way, perhaps. Not to the same place. But every one of us who has been baptized into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit has been drawn into the life of God and sent to make that life visible.


And Jesus gives one final promise. “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”


Matthew’s Gospel account begins with the promise of Emmanuel, God with us. And his Good News ends with the risen Christ saying, “I am with you always.”


That means we are not sent alone. Derek does not go alone. Holy Apostles does not continue alone. You do not step into your own calling alone. The crucified and risen Christ goes with us.


So, beloved Holy Apostles, on this Trinity Sunday, do not worry first about whether you can explain the Trinity. 


Live the Trinity.


Live as people created in love.


Live as people gathered in grace.


Live as people sent in communion.


Go into the world as disciples of Jesus. Teach mercy by practicing mercy. Teach forgiveness by forgiving. Teach welcome by welcoming. Teach love by loving.


And invite others—not merely with your words, but with your lives—into the self-giving love of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.


Because that is who God is. And we are called to live and move and have our being in the Divine Life of the Trinity.


Amen.

Sunday, May 24, 2026

The Spirit Behind Locked Doors and Beyond Them



Acts 2:1-21

Psalm 104:25-35, 37

1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

John 20:19-23


©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, let my words be your words—and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.


When we think of Pentecost, most of us probably first go to the story from Acts we heard today as our first lesson.


The disciples are gathered together. Suddenly, the house is filled with the sound of a violent wind. Tongues like fire appear among them. They begin speaking in languages they did not know before, and people hear God’s mighty works proclaimed in their own native tongues.


It is public. Dramatic. Loud. Expansive.The Spirit rushes into the house and pushes the disciples beyond it. But today our Gospel gives us another story of the Spirit being imparted by God, and this one feels very different.


It is evening on the day of the Resurrection. The disciples are gathered behind locked doors. They are afraid. Mary Magdalene has already announced, “I have seen the Lord,” but they are not yet living as though Jesus’ Resurrection has changed everything.


They are still hiding. And Jesus comes and stands among them. He does not shame them for their fear. His first words are simply, “Peace be with you.”


Then Jesus shows them his hands and his side: the wounds he still carries in his risen body. And then he says again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”


Then Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” In John’s Gospel, account Pentecost does not begin with wind filling a house. It begins with breath in a locked room.


In Acts, the Spirit comes publicly, drawing people together across nations and languages. In John, the Spirit comes tenderly, breathing new life into frightened disciples and entrusting them with the holy work of forgiveness and reconciliation.


Together, they reveal something essential: the Spirit of God comes to us in manifold ways.

Sometimes the Spirit comes like fire.
Sometimes the Spirit comes like breath.
Sometimes the Spirit moves through a crowd.
Sometimes the Spirit meets us behind locked doors.
Sometimes the Spirit gives us words to speak.
Sometimes the Spirit gives us enough peace to take the next faithful step.

And so we should be careful not to discount another person’s experience of the Spirit because it does not look like our own.


Some encounter God in music that lifts their hearts until they cannot help but sing. Some encounter God in silence, when the noise quiets enough for them to know that they are loved. Some encounter the Spirit in serving someone in need, in bread and wine, in recovery, or in a conversation that becomes holy.


The Spirit is free. The Spirit blows where she will. The Spirit is not ours to control or contain. Our calling is not to decide in advance how God must appear. Our calling is to pay attention when God does.


Yet, for all their differences, the Pentecost accounts from John and Acts share a common direction. In both stories, the Spirit does not come merely for spiritual experience. The Spirit comes to send them into the world.


In John, Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” In Acts, the Spirit enables the disciples to proclaim good news to people from every nation under heaven. So, the Spirit does not breathe upon us merely so that we can feel peaceful for ourselves. The Spirit does not set our hearts on fire merely so that we can admire the warmth. The Spirit draws us into the mission and ministry of Jesus: mercy, healing, truth, justice, forgiveness, and reconciliation.


John makes that especially clear. As soon as Jesus breathes the Spirit upon the disciples, he speaks about forgiving and retaining sins.


Now reconciliation does not mean pretending harm never happened. It does not mean avoiding difficult truth or allowing injustice to continue.

After all, the risen Jesus shows the disciples his wounds before he sends them out.


The wounds are real. But the wounds no longer have the final word. The crucified and risen Christ stands among frightened people, bearing the marks of violence, abandonment, betrayal, and death, and says, “Peace be with you.” That is reconciliation: not the erasure of wounds, but God bringing new life and new relationship through them. 


And, Acts tells the same story in a different way. At Pentecost, people from many cultures and nations hear the Gospel in their own languages. Notice what the Spirit does not do. The Spirit does not require everyone to abandon their language and speak one official holy language. The Spirit does not erase difference or flatten humanity into uniformity. Each person hears God’s mighty works in the language of home.


Pentecost is not sameness. Pentecost is communion across difference.

If Babel is humanity divided by its attempt to grasp power and climb their way to the seat of God, then Pentecost is God’s response: not human beings climbing toward heaven through domination, but heaven pouring itself out upon human beings in grace.


Sons and daughters shall prophesy. Young people shall see visions. Old people shall dream dreams. Those the world considers powerless shall receive the Spirit. The Spirit is poured out upon all flesh.


Paul says something similar to the Corinthians. There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. And then he gives us the key: “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” The gifts of the Spirit are not given to make us impressive. They are given to make us useful to one another in love.


That is no small task, because the world is noisy. Every day, voices compete for our attention: politics, companies, screens, anxieties, outrage, productivity, and endless possibility. No wonder it can feel difficult to discern the Spirit, especially when we are choosing not between obvious good and evil, but between good and good, necessary and necessary, difficult and difficult.


And yet, even now, the Spirit is moving. The Spirit is moving here, at Holy Apostles, as we discern how to serve, love, forgive, heal, and become the community God is calling us to be.


The Spirit is calling us into a future we cannot see and certainly cannot control. We might prefer the Spirit to hand us a complete plan. But the Spirit rarely works that way.


Sometimes the Spirit blows us beyond doors we locked for security.
Sometimes the Spirit breathes life into places in us we thought were too wounded and she calls us to serve from there. Sometimes the Spirit burns away something we thought we needed. Sometimes the Spirit speaks through someone whose experience is different from our own. So perhaps the invitation of Pentecost is simple: slow down enough to listen.


Listen for the Spirit moving in your own life. Listen for the Spirit moving in this community. Listen for the Spirit speaking through gifts unlike your own. Listen for the Spirit calling you toward reconciliation. Listen for the Spirit pushing us beyond fear and into freedom. 


Because our salvation does not come from political might, economic security, productivity, popularity, being right, or controlling the future. Our salvation comes from the God who breathes life into dust, raises the wounded Christ from the dead, pours out the Spirit upon all flesh, and sends ordinary people into the world carrying extraordinary love.


I want to close with a blessing from William Sloane Coffin who was a Chaplain at Yale for several decades including during the tumultuous 1960s. His witness of God’s reconciling love for all was evidenced not only by his care for his students, but also in organizing freedom riders to travel south to help with voter registration. This benediction, “A Blessing of Grace,” feels right for Pentecost:


May God give you the grace never to sell yourself short;
Grace to risk something big for something good; and
Grace to remember the world is now
too dangerous for anything but the truth and
too small for anything but love.


So come, Holy Spirit. Breathe upon us behind our locked doors. Set fire to whatever in us needs to be made new. Give each of us gifts for the common good. Draw us together without erasing who you have made us to be. And send us out, in the peace of Christ, to participate in the reconciliation and renewal of the whole world.


Amen.