Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Today’s texts: Romans 8:12-17, John 3:1-17

Dear Friends in Christ, God’s grace and peace be with you. Amen.

Have you heard about “Glimmers[i]”? They’re a concept developed by a clinical social worker who primarily works with people who have experienced trauma. You’ve probably heard about “triggers,” those things that simply by being mentioned or alluded to can cause us a physical or emotional reaction of panic or discomfort. Especially for those who have experienced severe trauma, a trigger reignites one’s nervous system to the distress or fear that the original trauma created and can make us feel as if we’re in danger again.

Clinical Social Worker Deb Dana coined the term, “glimmer” to refer to the counter experience. She urges her clients to watch out for simple experiences in their daily lives that cue their nervous system to relax or feel joy.

We notice the scent of lilacs out on a walk: that’s a glimmer. We hear the morning coffee brewing: glimmer. We feel the tender skin of a baby; or see a toddler at play; we crawl into our favorite sweatshirt: glimmers. We sing a hymn in 4-part harmony; or feel the rumble of the lowest pipes in the organ in our guts, and our stress levels drop.

Dana invites us to take note of anything that comforts or cheers us, even just a little. We notice something near us glimmering with joy or beauty, goodness or hope, and our heart rate may regulate. Even for those who have experienced tremendous trauma, the tiniest bit of healing might take place. We begin to rewire our brains to remember that we can delight in the world around us, rather than constantly feel afraid or wounded by it.

I sense that when Jesus invites Nicodemus to enter God’s reign, he’s really reminding him to notice the world glimmering around him. Like wind blowing in from nowhere, or like heavenly things showing up all over the earth, Jesus invites us to be born from above, and center our lives on the eternal source of love and light which spins us all into life. Jesus invites us to join in its dance, to guess that we’re part of it, too, that we ourselves glimmer in the love God showers on the whole cosmos.

We may presume that Holy Trinity Sunday gives us a chance to explain the nature of God, to go all wonky into some sort of theological explanation on how we can talk about one God in three persons, and make sense of it all somehow.

Nicodemus comes to see if Jesus will explain it to him, too. But Jesus doesn’t respond with explanation, or theoretical descriptions to help us solve an impossible mathematical proof of three in one and one in three. He doesn’t say to Nicodemus, “Here, you have to understand this,” but rather, “The Spirit blows where it chooses.”

We know God not by what we understand, but by what stirs us, what inspires or frees us, or sounds to us like the whisper of love across the waters. We know God by what glimmers for us, and claims us as beloved and whole and free. We’re not called to figure out the nature of the Trinity, as much as marvel at its unfathomable goodness — goodness that is expressed as eternal life, as being born into a whole new way, as heavenly freedom.

Maybe it’s that “being born into a whole new way,” that throws us. This glimmering of God’s love is not just something out there that we can observe and then pass by. It turns us around, it catches us up, it changes us to start moving in its ways.

If there’s anything that the oldest, wonkiest explanations of the Trinity offer, it is that God is relationship, constantly in motion. An ancient word for it is perichoresis[ii], some reciprocal circulation of making space around, merging, blending, and creating openings[iii]. The motion is both inward and outward, centered and relational. The Trinity is in communal connection to Itself, and with all creation. That circular, open, welcoming dance calls all that it connects with back into relationship with God, and with each other.

We hear a hint of it in Paul’s letter to the Romans, that the Spirit which claims us as God’s children, is the same Spirit that frees us to call out to God. We are drawn in at the same time we’re sent out into the dance. Paul says we become heirs of glory, heirs of the glimmering, if you will, even as we suffer along with Christ’s passion for the world.

This idea of “glimmer” was, as I mentioned, first developed for those who had suffered trauma. Grief, abuse, neglect, violence, abandonment, all can cause our brains to short-wire, to respond in fear, sensing threat or danger all around us. If we spend too much of our lives under those conditions, our nervous system can stay on high alert and cause us to distrust ourselves and our environment.

Jesus may have called it “being born of flesh,” which isn’t supposed to mean our bodies are inherently bad, but rather that the things that constantly condemn or injure us cause trauma that can live in our bodies.

Being “born of water and the spirit,” is to discover our nervous system being rewired by those things that offer us safety and goodness, that ground us in hope, that regulate our stress responses, and remind us that we are created for love and for the care of those around us. We are born again, Jesus says, and can live a new life. Indeed, God did not send Jesus to judge against us, but to free us from practices that destroy our bodies, to claim us for life that glimmers around us even now.

Last week I had some time away, which was great, but I missed the fire dancers here at Gloria Dei. I checked back online early Sunday afternoon, in hopes that there would be posts or photos of the gathering. And from what I saw, it was marvelous! The pictures showed me how the whole front lawn glimmered. The energy of fire was obviously there in the center. But the photos of all of you encircling the dance were positively glowing with excitement and wonder, joy and amazement, connection and intrigue. A perichoresis – making space for mutual connection and motion – drawing us together and sending us out– shimmered in your interactions, and the whole neighborhood got to witness it. Just like the church has always been invited to be: energized with love, shining with hope, crying out over the brokenness of the world, and sensing God’s spirit rewiring us for goodness.

If the Spirit proves faithful, we’ll see it glimmering throughout the summer. We’ll sense it as we gather at Loaves and Fishes or Feed My Starving Children, or share the produce of our Giving Gardens with Francis Basket. Our children will lead us in the glimmering dance of Vacation Bible School, and our youth will explore the vision God has for the wider church. One of you will hold the hand of a loved one during their last hours, and another will visit with a friend diagnosed with something scary. Some will even catch a shimmer as they walk through George Floyd Square, and pledge to advocate for justice. And every Sunday, I have no doubt, we’ll discover bread and wine, water and water, and the community of God’s faithful glimmering in the fullness of a Love feast, poured out for us all.

Thanks be to God.

______________________________

[i] Moniuszko, Sara M.  “’Glimmers’ are the opposite of triggers. Here’s how to embrace them,” USA Today, March 3, 2022. https://www.usatoday.com/story/life/health-wellness/2022/03/23/glimmers-opposite-triggers-mental-health-benefits/7121353001/

[ii] Lodge, Sue. “The Trinity,” Companions on the Way, May 25, 2021.  https://www.companionsontheway.com/post/the-trinity

[iii] Shroyer, Danielle, The Word: Perichoresis, February 25, 2015, https://danielleshroyer.com/the-word-perichoresis/