A favorite professor once asked which person of the Trinity our class most frequently sought out in prayer. The answer seemed obvious–to everyone—and conversation erupted! This question brought a new awareness of the gifts each of these persons has to offer me as well as the importance of knowing who is accompanying me on this spiritual journey. I know now that my spirit longs for and is nourished by different aspects of God throughout the year.
Triangular diagrams, stories of Adam and Eve and others from the Old Testament influenced the description of God the Father for much of my childhood. Only later did I discover the story of the Prodigal Son and the description offered of God the Father in this lavish and merciful light (Luke 15:1-3, 11-32). The placement of this reading on Laetare Sunday, as well as my own experience of Metanoia, brought to life for me the very powerful love of the Father as so well-depicted by Henri Nouwen in The Return of the Prodigal Son. God the Father invites me to be lavish in mercy.
During the Christmas season I find myself riveted by the vulnerability of God who takes on flesh out of love, to be born in a manger; the helpless, innocent and perfect Christ-child in the company of barnyard animals, fledgling parents, shepherds and travelers from distant lands. We see the whole intimate scene: Jesus born into a poor family in the midst of social and political turmoil where it might have been unsafe for any child, certainly any child prophesied to be the King of the Jews (Matt 2:1-2). The state of affairs of that ancient time is sadly similar to the global climate today. And yet, into the midst of these dismal circumstances, Emmanuel enters history, thereby dignifying humanity by its opportunity to receive the Holy of Holies, even in humble disguise. Annually, the infant Jesus invites me to brazen vulnerability.
During Lent, there is something especially compelling about the trust of Jesus as a man that my soul needs to absorb. It has to do with his absolute awareness that there is more to the story and his loving response when the details are unclear: when he is tempted in the desert for weeks; when he is betrayed; when he is alone in the garden and his friends are asleep; and finally when he is crucified between two thieves. This Jesus encourages me to endure the barrenness of my own deserts because beauty beyond my imagining, awaits me. And, if I am awake, Jesus reveals himself to me within my own desert places as well. Lenten Jesus invites me to seek beauty where I have ceased to seek it.
Come Easter, there is an exhilarating possibility and wildness about the Spirit. Sometimes referred to as the Paraclete, wind, fire, wisdom or love; we get a sense that the Holy Spirit is moving and seemingly eager! There is something so inviting about the way this person of the Trinity finds their way into my life; whether that be in the small whisper (1 Kings 19:12) or the wild movement of a spring wind whipping through my hair on a Pentecost morning. The Holy Spirit invites me to be surprised.
I am perhaps coming to love this figure of the Trinity best because of the magnanimity of it—there is far less known of the Holy Spirit than about Jesus or God the Father. We cannot recreate the scene or story where the Spirit began or ended in quite the same way we tell the story of Jesus. Scripture, Tradition and Sacraments are laden with references to the Third Person of the Trinity and it is as inviting as it is mysterious. With the Holy Spirit, the question is no longer, “Is God moving in my life?”, rather, “When, where and how has the Spirit been at work and where is it leading me next?!”
Where is the Spirit leading you?