2 Corinthians 13:11-14 · Final Greetings
A Name Not Taken in Vain
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Sermon
by William G. Carter
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In the middle of March, 1961, a minister named Duffy splashed water on my head in the middle of a Sunday morning worship service. I was only one of a half dozen "Baby Boomers" whose parents had recently petitioned the Session for the sacrament of baptism. Having recently moved to a trailer park in Akron, Ohio, my parents thought the time seemed right to make their firstborn infant a Presbyterian.

The sacrament went rather easily. The only reported glitch was the last-minute discovery that my father had not, himself, ever been baptized. The minister discovered this fact somehow, probably to my parents' embarrassment. And so, about half an hour before the worship service, my dad got his forehead splashed in the pastor's study. "First things first," declared Reverend Duffy. I have reflected frequently on that family legend, especially as the years have unfolded and I have grown in my understanding of Christian baptism. My parents were young and naive, relatively unschooled in the finer points of liturgical theology. For them, as for many, my baptism was a rite of passage. It signaled that they were offering me to the church, choosing to bring me up in a Christian denomination that they chose by marital compromise. They were promising me to the community of potluck suppers and flannel-board Bible stories. Since I turned out be something of a joiner, it was a community that I have never felt the desire to leave.

But they were doing something far more: They were giving me an identity. According to another family legend, they had squabbled over my name before I was born, and didn't settle on William Glenn until I was a few days old. It took them over a year to offer me up for the sacrament of baptism. Whether they knew it or not, they declared that I was first, and foremost, a child of the God whose name is Trinity. Through Word and water, God announced a primary claim on my life. From that point on, every breath, deed, and thought has been a response to that name to which I belong.

Practically speaking, this is our first experience of the Trinity. In my case, it may have been precognitive. In my father's case, it may have been a post-adolescent lapse that needed to be completed. Either way, Christian baptism is the moment when God's name is imputed to us. The God who creates us is revealed as the personal God who adopts us into the holy family called church. As a single Parent, God devotes great resources to our welfare, surrounds us with unconditional and self-giving love, and always gives us plenty of freedom to respond to such gracious initiatives. Through faithful memory, I recall what was once said to me: "William Glenn Carter, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." God so claimed me as a lifelong child of the covenant. As I have been instructed by the third commandment of Moses, I shall not take the name of God in vain. I take upon myself the name in single-hearted devotion, and therefore trust in the promised acquittal of grace.1

By taking the name of Trinity, we take upon ourselves the mantle of Christian theology, worship, and practice. Trinity is our Christian name of the God of Abram and Sarai. Through this Name, we have access to the promises of scripture. We are enrolled in the wide-sweeping story of biblical faith. The God who cuts a covenant with the matriarchs and patriarchs is the same Trinity who comes after us in the person and work of Jesus Christ. As we have seen in Jesus, this God is not bound by human limits or divine superiority. Rather, our God reveals love and purpose through the essential community of the Divine Being.

When Paul gives his blessing at the end of 2 Corinthians, he uses the words that we have come to know quite well. "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you" (v. 13). He blesses us through a God who is known in relationship. The love of God becomes real to us through the grace of Jesus Christ. Love and grace are expressed through the communal presence of the Holy Spirit.

Trinity is the name of the one God who lives in community, whose very essence is community. This God will never remain static, fixed, or speechless. As the Spirit glorifies the Son,2 and as the Son reveals the Father,3 the Father gives the life of eternity to the created order.4

The Christian life is life in the name of the Trinity. Christian community is where we listen to what we learn from the communal Trinity. Christian preaching dares to declare the word of the living Christ, and not merely the ancient aphorisms of the dead Jesus. We labor to speak a word that resonates with the redemptive purposes of God for the world. If the Triune God is essentially self-revealing, the people of God are called as witnesses to God's words and deeds. Christian faith always points beyond itself to the God who lives and speaks, for it is in the life and word of God that we find our origin, purpose, and destination.

I suppose this is why the preaching and teaching ministries of the church have become so dear to me, and probably why they demand so much of a minister's time and energy. I also suspect this is why I have come to believe that true pastoral care is more than a mere soul massage, and more like an invitation to claim God's presence and purpose for the world. Our prevailing North American culture has become far too insulated and self-absorbed for its own good, so much so, in fact, that it is hard for the holy God to get much of a hearing these days.

To crib the line from Jesus, Christian preaching will take what belongs to Christ and declare it.5 Through our human words and humane deeds, we announce that God is truthful and gracious; righteous, yet available; powerful, while choosing to become vulnerable; and most of all, in spite of our sin, full of redeeming love.

In my first year as a pastor, I presided over a session meeting where a fight broke out. The fierce conflict, which lasted for 45 minutes, was precipitated by an announcement from the chairperson of the fellowship committee. He declared that fresh brewed coffee would no longer be served after worship. Instead we would have hot water, with our choice of tea bags or Folgers crystals. Since I was 26 years old and stupid, I thought the ensuing argument was about coffee, and tried to shut it down. Silly me! The elders tossed around that hot potato for three-quarters of an hour.

The real issue centered on the very nature of our life together as a community. Expediency was battling against intimacy. Since the chair of the committee was a lousy recruiter, he and his wife were often stuck in the church kitchen, rinsing out coffee grounds long after others had gone home. He wanted to leave church at the same time as everybody else, so he pushed for simpler refreshments for coffee hour.

"But you don't understand," exclaimed an exasperated opponent. "I come to worship to listen for God, and I go to coffee hour to talk to others." Naturally, for her, a community is enhanced by a stiff dose of brewed caffeine. It was a first reminder to me that the communal truth of the Trinity must be worked out in the life of a human community. The Word takes flesh, we say, and the all-too-human church is the Body of Christ.

The claims of the gospel must be embodied in a gathering of people, or else the gospel remains an abstract idea, high above everybody's heads. If a church is reticent to speak of God as Trinity, it cashes in a great resource for thinking about its very communal life. In the ancient understanding of the Triune God as a "circle dance," three divine persons constitute the unity of the one divine being.6 The heart of the divine mystery is the experience and reality of fellowship. Whether people glimpse this fellowship in a Russian icon7 or taste it in the reality of Eucharist or potluck supper, this communion is marked by complete and mutual participation, with shared power and purpose, all for the greater end of the redemption of the universe.

And so, the mysterious and distant doctrine of the Trinity gets me to look at our life as a congregation through new eyes. Week after week, I stand before people who are claimed by the name and do not take it in vain. They give generously, for it is God's nature to give to the world. They pray fervently, for they know that they are never abandoned or alone. They sing joyfully, for it is clear that the Triune God lives in security and joy. At its best, our life together is a reflection of God's life.

If grace, love, and communion can't be worked out here, among these people and in this place, I doubt they can be found anywhere else. And as we show one another grace, love, and communion, we participate in the very life of God. This is the life that can never, ever, die, for it is the life that brought back our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead.'


1. Exodus 20:7 - "For the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name."

2. John 16:12.

3. John 1:18; 14:7f.

4. John 17:1-3.

5. John 16:14.

6. Philip W. Butin, The Trinity (Louisville: Geneva Press, 2001), p. 64.

7. See Henri Nouwen's reflections in Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying with Icons (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987) pp. 19-27.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays: After Pentecost (First Third): The Gifted, by William G. Carter