In Rankin there is a little three bedroom house over at 1103 Williams Street, right over the hill from the local elementary school, where a family of three used to live, the mom, the dad, and their only child.  Beside the little house there is an old stone wall, reminiscent of the old stone wall, which stands in front of the First Assembly of God church, where this dad once served as a part-time music minister, and the mom served as part-time church pianist. 

Each week, following the 11:00AM worship service, this family of three would return home for Sunday lunch, which would be followed by what became something of a family tradition.  The only child, a five-year old freckle faced red-headed boy, would proceed to take his tricycle, hot cycle, and radio-flyer red wagon, and line them all up in front of the old stone wall, much like all the cars that parked in front of the old stone wall at the church each Sunday morning.  This little red-headed boy would proceed to pick up his four-footed-furry friend named Spanky, an orange-haired cocker spaniel. 

After placing Spanky in the radio-flyer red wagon, he would then climb up the three stairs to the top of the old stone white-washed wall, where he would open up his black, genuine leather-bound edition of the King James Version and would begin to do what I am trying to do here this morning…Preach! 

He would flail his arms up and down, and with uncompromising precision, carefully pattern his vocal inflections after his favorite preacher, Pastor Steve.  He would continue his message until either someone came walking down the street or a neighbor came outside to see what all the fuss was about.  I do not recall much of the content of these profoundly moving messages.  But what I look back on now and see is the sight of a barely 5 year old wanna-be preacher boy; shaped deeply by the words and stories and rituals of the church; bearing the Good News to even his beloved dog with imagination, enthusiasm and great joy. 

Once you have heard news so good you can’t keep it to yourself, have you ever felt that inward urge or the surge of energy to share your joy and aliveness with somebody else:  when you get the envelope in the mail that says, “You are accepted,” when the doctor’s report is, “The cancer is in remission,” when the phone call comes, “You’ve got the job,” when you can finally tell your friends and families, “We are expecting.”

Of course, it’s easier to be bearers of good news than bad news.  Mary Magdalene and the other Mary (the first two preachers in Matthew’s Gospel really) know what it’s like.  They are the two who proclaim to the disciples that Jesus had been raised from the dead and would meet them in Galilee.  You might think that if there was anything that would make all the disciples hearts beat faster, it would be seeing the Resurrected Christ.  Yet, Matthew says, “when they saw him, they worshiped him, but some doubted.” 

But (like a wise teacher would) Jesus doesn’t flinch. He looks beyond the fear he sees in their faces, because he knows that the sacred adventure they started together at the Sea of Galilee is far from over.  Peter, Andrew, James, and John had all left the fishing business to follow Jesus.  The name Outward Bound would apply to them.  It comes from the nautical expression that refers to the moment a ship leaves the pier.  This is an ample description of these sailor disciples who have burned their boats (so to speak) and have come too far to turn back.  Jesus knows what the disciples suspect; they are in deep; the best move is the way forward; to be daring and bold beyond their doubts. 

And what would make them venture beyond the fledgling community Jesus formed?  There were just as many reasons for pessimism as optimism.  After all, they were following after a man who started with 12 men and finished with 11.  But with a holy secret too good to keep, Jesus speaks:  All authority in heaven and on earth is given to me.  All that you have heard me say and seen me do is my doing the will of the One who sent me.

The same One in Matthew’s Gospel who gives Jesus this divine stamp of approval is the same One who declared at Jesus baptism:  This is my Son. When Jesus says, “Go and make disciples baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, it was God’s way of passing on the blessing Jesus received in that murky, muddy Jordan water.  Remember?  “And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.  And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” 

Here is the intimate scene of the unity and fellowship of Father, Son, and Spirit at Jesus baptism. What Jesus experienced at his baptism was what he knew all his life long; the loving presence and blessing of the One he called Abba.  The blessing of God the Father extends to Jesus the Son who promises through the Holy Spirit, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”  

This is part of the beautiful tapestry woven into the church’s dance with God:  the holy memory of Christ’s promise made ever new through words and stories and worship.

We hear these ancient words made new in the Wilshire waters.  We the church of the Triune God now baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  And there it is:  Words, stories, worship…Trinity!    

This being Trinity Sunday, preachers everywhere are attempting mental gymnastics to explain the mystery of God we know as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  The debate is one of the oldest in the history of the Christian church; what is the nature of Jesus; what is his relationship to the Father; was he eternally God or created by God; how much of him was God and how much was human; why three names for God when one would do; all bound up in the struggle to articulate what ultimately cannot be said of the flooding love of God. 

If we take our clues from Jesus experience at baptism and today’s Gospel text, maybe “divine family” would be a worthwhile description of the relationship of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit:  at least it’s a little more relational than using physical properties like three-leaf clovers, water, mud, or a Three Muskateers Bar to describe such a mystery!

Now, the Trinity may not be a once-and-for-all perfect description of the divine revelation, but it offers us the understanding that God could not resist the urge to love the world into being and through the gift of Christ, become part of it.  In this way, God is outward bound, too, because love moves God outside of the divine life to risk caring for creation.  The world was conceived in love.

As the most wholesome loving parent, God holds us close and suffers with us in our failings and in our fears; the fear of the unknown future, the fear of letting go, the fear of leaving home and growing up.  

In the coming months, many of you graduates will move from high school senior status (big people on campus) to the hinterlands of “needy college freshman.”  You will begin your own outward-bound adventure as your mothers and fathers are absorbed into the billing cycles of financial aid! 

You will courageously set out on a new adventure.  You will learn what it means to grow, mature, and live into the gifts of your lives.  This week I came across a note that a proud mentor sent to his beloved student:

I'm waiting with bated breath for updates and enlightening news from your journey and adventure.  It's as though I have sent one of my bravest knights into forbidden land to learn and conquer.  Please be fluid with your correspondence -- as though you are lofting arrows with vital messages of unknown territory back into the safety of our encampment. (He always had a flair for the dramatic!) 

You have been nurtured by such mentors, parents, and the Wilshire family; you have looked over the shoulders of those older and wiser to try and understand what it means to walk the way of Jesus Christ.  Now it’s your turn to move outward bound.  It’s your turn to venture beyond the community that formed you with its words and stories and worship.  We will be waiting for your vital messages from the unknown territory (and your loads of laundry, of course). 

Meanwhile, Wilshire, our words, our stories, and our worship sustain our life together. They heal us and give us hope.  They inspire us and even make us laugh.  They make us ask questions, too: 

How might God be calling you to move more outward-bound:  Is it daring to believe God’s words to Jesus:  You are my beloved child?  Is it pursuing the dream of a new vocation?  Is it volunteering to serve in the church in some new way? 

Whether we’re preaching from old stone walls or praying about our own stone hearts, may we find imagination, enthusiasm, and great joy in bearing good news to the world; whether person (or pet!).  And may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit, be with us all.  Amen.