3:16 And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him:3:17 And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.
When I first read these closing verses of Matthew 3, I was going to write about the Trinity; I was going to point out that although the Trinity is never explicitly mentioned in the New Testament, it is implicit in a number of passages, and this is one of the first examples; I was going to pick out the references to “Son” and “Spirit”, and the implied reference to Father (“a voice from heaven”); I was even going to try and draw a neat analogy between the concept of the Trinity and the atomic theory of the structure of matter...
And then, while I was still mulling it all over, I had to pick up my son from cricket training. It was just after 5, and the light was already beginning to fade. It had been a long day, and a longer week. And, as I jumped into the car and shoved a CD into the slot, my mood was as grey and gloomy as the dusky February sky.
But somewhere during the short half-hour journey – maybe at the point where the narrow, winding B-roads opened out, and the lights of the city appeared just beyond the next rise, and the music swelled in sympathy – my mood took a little turn for the better. And a little, overlooked, phrase from verse 16 took root in my mind...
And, lo, the heavens were opened unto him.
So if you are interested in knowing that the word "atom" comes from the ancient Greek adjective atomos, “indivisible”, and you want to draw your own parallels between “The LORD our God is one LORD”, the doctrine of the Trinity, and the "indivisible atom" (which actually turned out to be composed of various subatomic particles), then here are a few links you might like to check-out:
But if, on the other hand, this all smacks to you of pointless academic speculation... well stick with me, and let’s turn our attention to more practical matters, because if the Trinity means anything, it has to mean something “concrete” in my daily life; and what I really want to know is how to “open heaven”, how to stand, as it were, in the Son of God’s shoes, and see the Spirit descending, and hear the Father speaking. What I really want to know is what on earth does the Trinity mean to me?
Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I believe the Trinity ought to mean something to me, because God’s purpose for me, perhaps ultimately the only purpose of my existence, is for my life to be drawn up into the pure, unadulterated, boundless life and love and joy and communion of the triune Godhead.
In John 17, Jesus himself prayed for no less...
17:21 That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.17:22 And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one:17:23 I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.
And this is the way “heaven opens” to me. Not through pearly gates, and cherubs, and harps, and haloes, but through perfect union with the life of God, and through that union, perfect oneness with everyone who has been drawn up, together with me, into that Life with a capital “L”.
But how can I enter into that eternal, indivisible union of Father-Son-Spirit, which is the ultimate source of all life and love, and is the only true “heaven”? The answer is, quite simply, I can’t! Paul tells us quite plainly in 1 Corinthians that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” (15:50).
Of course the “heavens opened” to the Son of God – they would do, wouldn’t they? – but, by the very nature of things, to me, the way to God is “closed”, the door to heaven is firmly shut.
“Who then can be saved?” (Matthew 19:25)
You might well ask.
“With men this is impossible,” says Jesus.
Then, with the hint of a smile: “But with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26). “Don’t you know that I am the door? I am the way? No-one comes to God but by me; but whosoever will, may come freely.” (John 10:9 and 14:6; Revelation 22:17).
God, in the person of his Son, has “opened heaven” to me. The life of God entered human flesh at Bethlehem, and by the “foolishness” of simply “believing” (1 Corinthians 1:21), I am drawn up into that life, just like a branch is grafted into the vine (John 15). Maybe “flesh and blood” can’t enter heaven, but heaven, it seems, can enter “flesh and blood”. And “in” and “through” the Son of God, who became the Son of Man, the “heavens are opened unto me”.
So heaven is not a place you go to some day when you die – it is a “relationship” you enter into, right here and now. “Now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be” (1 John 3:2). As my life is “transplanted” into the life of the Son (with a capital “S”), I become, as it were, a son (with a little “s”), and I am immediately drawn up into the relationship of a son, with the same inseparable bond with Father and Spirit as the “only begotten” Son himself.
But a branch can be “in” the vine, and still produce no fruit. And I can be “in” a relationship of perfect oneness with the source of all life and love, and still experience no life, no love, no joy, no peace...
And I must learn how to “abide” in the vine (John 15:4).
“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock,” says Jesus. “If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20).
And here is the challenge, and the work of a lifetime – to learn how to “open the door”, to open up my life to the “heaven” within, to “lay aside every weight” – the “cares”, and even the “riches and pleasures of this life” – that so easily “choke” the “inner life”, and “quench” the Spirit in me (Hebrews 12:1; Luke 8:14; 1 Thessalonians 5:19).
Here is the task set before me, to turn those rare moments of inner quietness and “openness” towards God into my normal, habitual mode of living – to turn a moment on a dim and empty twilight road, into a way of life.
