Doctrinal wars over the Trinity were conflicts during the early centuries of Christianity to define God as a single being in three coequal, coeternal persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These conflicts, particularly the Arian controversy—which saw Jesus as only human—involved significant debate and were eventually settled by the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD. That council affirmed the orthodox position, condemning opposing views, such as Arianism.
The Nicene Creed still underpins the doctrine of the Trinity for many Christian denominations today.
Constantine became the sole emperor of the Roman Empire after a series of civil wars. It took him 18 years to emerge as the sole ruler. He made Constantinople the new capital, shifting the empire’s focus eastward. This was during the time the Christian churches in the empire were engaged in this theological war about the relationship of God to Jesus and the Holy Spirit.
Constantine’s actions in Nicaea in 325 were not driven by personal commitment to Christian doctrine, but by his need to solidify control over diverse and often conflicting territories within his empire. He employed Christianity as a tool for political unity, transforming it into an “imperial religion” to strengthen his hold on power. He was not baptized until he was on his deathbed—probably as an insurance policy for his soul.
After years of reciting the creed, I began to wonder what impact, if any, it had on the daily life of the faithful. So I asked a United Church of Christ (UCC) friend whether her church believed in the Trinity. She said they did, but she had never heard it preached and did not see what purpose it served. I had already abandoned belief in it years ago as completely irrelevant for living a faith-filled life.
Until last Sunday morning.
As I got up to feed all our animals, I knew my American bulldog and my yellow cat would be waiting for me outside the door. Much to my surprise, neither was there. I was confused. Then I noticed the bathroom door was shut. When I pushed it open, I saw Cube’s dog cushion on the floor, with him on one side and the cat on the other. In the middle, lying down, was our oldest cat, Priscilla. When I bent down to pick her up, she could not even stand. It was obvious she was dying.
I took her to the couch to hold her while Sheryl watched a church service. I took off my hearing instrument because holding her on my lap and in my heart was much more important. I looked out our east window to see the trees and the morning sun rising. When I glanced up at the TV, the opening song was Morning Has Broken:
Morning has broken like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from Heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God’s recreation of the new day
I had just witnessed an incarnate Holy Trinity there in the bathroom—the three of them sharing an intimate connection, one with the other. In that moment, I finally understood what the real meaning of the Trinity could be.
Our connections with one another keep opening in wider circles, sharing and expanding love each and every day until it reaches the furthest corners of the universe. With Morning Has Broken in the background, the thin veil between life and death seemed to pull back, leaving all of us in perfect peace.
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