This Is Not That: God
The God We Missed
Before there was light, before a single command or commandment, there was God. And God was not alone (Genesis 1-3).
Father, Son, and Spirit—an eternal circle of love, delight, and laughter.
Not three gods, not one god with three costumes.
One life shared in perfect self-giving.
John starts his Gospel here: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
The Greek word for “with” is pros—meaning “toward.” Face-to-face. Before time began, the Father and Son were looking into each other’s eyes in total delight, while the Spirit hovered like a rhythm of joy between them.
That’s the sound creation was born from.
Not loneliness, not lack.
Love overflowed, and galaxies came spilling out.
Every atom in your body was dreamed up inside that dance of delight. Holiness isn’t God’s distance from us—it’s the fierce love that refuses to exist without us. Ever.
Then Jesus steps onto the scene—God in flesh, the fullness of the Father made visible.
He says, “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone the Son chooses to reveal Him” (Matt 11:27). Which means, until Jesus came to live with us, we were guessing.
Yes. Humans, like us, made God in our image—angry, controlling, transactional. But Jesus is what God looks like when God shows up.
Until He Came To Dwell Among Us
The Old Testament writers were following the breadcrumbs of what they thought they saw, referring to God as Father only ten to fifteen times depending on your translation.
But after Jesus showed up, the New Testament referred to God as Father over two hundred and fifty times. Because once God was seen in the face of Jesus, there was no going back.
He eats with traitors.
Touches lepers.
Lets the woman caught in the act of adultery go free.
When Philip said, “Show us the Father,” Jesus replied, “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father” (John 14:8-9).
There it is. The invisible made visible. No secrets left.
Jesus isn’t the nice version of God trying to calm Him down. He is God. And He didn’t come to change God’s mind about us—He came to change our minds about God.
That’s why He told stories.
Every parable was a window into the Trinity’s heart.
A father running down the road to hug his son before an apology is even finished.
A shepherd leaving ninety-nine safe sheep to rescue the one that wandered off.
A party that keeps filling up with outcasts until every seat is taken.
Each one whispers, This is what I’m like.
When Jesus steps into the Jordan River, the whole Trinity shows up. He goes under the water, identifying with our mess. The Spirit descends like a dove, resting on Him. And the Father’s voice breaks the silence: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matt 3:17).
Father, Son, Spirit—all together. Love, delight, and belonging made public. Heaven open to all.
That moment wasn’t just about Jesus. It was about all of us.
When Jesus went down, we went down. When He rose, we rose. Because His life is ours now. Not because we become Him, but because He’s never stopped being with us.
And when Jesus said He was leaving, He didn’t leave us with an instruction manual—He left us with a Person.
“I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, who will live with you and in you” (John 14:16-17).
And That Changes Everything
The same Spirit that hovered over creation and descended at His baptism now breathes inside us. The life of the Trinity is no longer out there—it’s in here.
And this Spirit doesn’t show up to hand out report cards.
The Spirit comes to open our eyes.
That’s what Jesus meant when He said the Spirit would “convict the world of sin, righteousness, and judgment” (John 16:8). Not to guilt-trip us, but to wake us up. Because sin isn’t behavior—it’s unbelief.
As Paul said, “Whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Rom 14:23). Inshore: it’s the blindness that keeps us from seeing who God really is. The Spirit exposes that blindness and keeps whispering, You’re not separated. You’re not disqualified. You belong.
That’s repentance—not a groveling apology, but the turning of our minds back toward the God we’d forgotten.
And righteousness? Jesus said, “because I go to the Father” (John 16:10). Meaning, it’s already secure in Him. You’re not earning righteousness by effort—you’re included in His.
As Paul wrote, “He became sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor 5:21). So righteousness isn’t moral achievement; it’s the shared life of Jesus now pulsing through ours.
And judgment? That’s not God punishing sinners—it’s God judging the lie that ever said we were separate. “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be cast out” (John 12:31).
The cross was the world’s system of accusation collapsing under its own weight. It didn’t change God’s posture toward us—it revealed it.
In short, the Spirit doesn’t come to expose how bad we are. The Spirit comes to unveil how loved we’ve always been. Which means faith isn’t what makes this true—it’s what opens our eyes to see that it already is.
Imagine a child lost in a crowd. He doesn’t know which way home is, until a familiar voice cuts through the noise.
That’s the Spirit. The one who keeps calling us back to the Father through the voice of Jesus, saying, “You’re already home.”
Where Language Matters
So when we talk about God, we’re not talking about a distant CEO who occasionally checks His inbox. We’re talking about a family of love that has never known a day without you.
The Father who dreamed you up.
The Son who stepped into your dust.
The Spirit who won’t quit reminding you that you’re in the middle of the story, not outside of it.
Paul said, “The Spirit testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children” (Rom 8:16). Which aligns with everything we see from Genesis to Revelation—the story Scripture was telling—God with us, not against us.
Which means the Trinity is not a theory to explain—it’s a life to enjoy.
To live by the Spirit is to breathe the same air Jesus breathed when He said, “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30).
The Father is the source.
The Son is the face.
The Spirit is the voice.
Three notes in one song of love.
And by grace, it’s the song we were made to sing.