LIFE IN THE TRINITY

In John 1:14, the Greek word translated “lived” can also be rendered “tented” or “tabernacled.” John is deliberately drawing our attention back to Israel’s story, when God dwelt among His people in the tabernacle before the temple existed. As Israel travelled through the wilderness, the tabernacle went ahead of them, a visible sign that God’s presence led the way. When they camped, the tabernacle stood at the centre of the camp, reminding them that God Himself was the centre of their life. The God of Israel was never distant or remote; He was the living God who chose to dwell among His own.

John now declares that this same God has become flesh to dwell among us. He no longer lives in a tent or a building. In Jesus—the Word made flesh—God Himself has come to live with humanity. Jesus is the true dwelling place of God, the meeting point between God and humankind.  God wanted to be with us.

John has already told us that the Word was with God. Father and Son existed eternally turned toward one another in perfect love. The Triune God is, in His very being, a communion of “withness.” The Father delights to be with the Son in the Spirit, and the Son delights to be with the Father in the Spirit. Their life is one of eternal, joyful communion.

And at a moment in history, the One who was eternally with God became one of us to be with us. He came so that we might share in the communion that is God’s own life. God’s desire to be with His people is not a temporary theme but the heartbeat of who he is. In Jesus, God is with us, and through union with Jesus, we are with God in living, loving fellowship.

John has already told us that the Word/ Son was with God and was God, and that all things came into being through him. Now he tells us this Word became flesh.  This draws us into the mystery of Jesus. 

By “flesh,” John means the full reality of human life in all its frailty and vulnerability—hunger, weariness, and the capacity to be tempted. The eternal Son did not merely appear human; he entered completely into our condition.

This happened at a moment in history, yet its origin lies in eternity. From the beginning, the Father and the Son existed in perfect communion, turned toward one another in love through the Spirit. Even before creation, it was the will of God that the Son would come into the world as a human. In this eternal decision, God chose to be for us and with us as one of us in Jesus.

This reveals something profound about who God is. God is not solitary but communal. The Father delights in the Son, and the Son delights in the Father, in the unity of the Spirit. Their shared life is one of overflowing love and joy. And it is this very “withness” that God desires to extend beyond himself. The Word becoming flesh is the way by which God unites himself to humanity, so that we might share in his life.

All of this is sheer grace. God was under no obligation to become human. He owes nothing to anyone, and no one can claim his favour. Yet, in complete freedom, God chooses to be with us, to share his life with us, and to bring us into communion with himself. Why? Because God’s very being is self-giving love.

The world was made through the Word, yet when he entered that world as Jesus, those he created did not recognise him. They preferred darkness, resisting the One who had given them life. He came to what was his own—Israel—but his own did not receive him. He is Yahweh, the God of Israel, the One who formed them, treasured them, dwelt among them, and bound himself to them in covenant love. And now, in a staggering mystery, the God of Israel became an Israelite, stepping fully into human history. Yet even with such nearness, his own people turned away.

Still, his love remained steadfast. His desire has always been relationship—first with Israel, and through Israel, with the world. So he entered the world not from a distance but right into its darkness. He came not to condemn but to restore, fulfilling the purpose of the Triune God for Israel and for all nations. The Light stepped into the darkness to bring life.

Yet some did receive him. To them he gave the right to become children of God: people not defined by ancestry, effort, or human will, but born of God himself. At the centre of all reality is a circle of love: Father, Son, and Spirit delighting in one another. The Father’s love for the Son is so abundant, so overflowing, that he wills to share it widely. So, through Jesus, the Son, he forms a family in the likeness of this unique Son.  Now we can say, through Jesus and the Spirit, we have become the dearly loved children of God who are born of God to live in communion with God.

Jesus, the true Light, shines into the darkness of the world. The world, often described as being under “the god of this age.” The world that is under the whole dominion of darkness. 

John declares, “The darkness has not overcome the light.” The word “overcome” carries double meaning: it can also be translated as “understand.” This layered meaning is characteristic of John’s Gospel. On one hand, the darkness has not defeated the Light; on the other, it has not comprehended it. Both ideas deepen the message.

Light and darkness are not merely contrasting realities; they are locked in conflict. Darkness actively resists the Light, seeking to extinguish it. Yet it has never succeeded. The Light continues to shine, unstoppable in its purpose.

At the same time, the darkness fails to understand the Light. Though the Light shines openly for all to see, those who dwell in darkness remain blind to Jesus, the Light. As John writes, the world that came into being through him did not recognise him, and even his own people did not receive him. This rejection of the Light is rooted in misplaced love. People turn away not because the Light is unclear, but because they love the darkness and hate the light that exposes what they would rather keep hidden.

Those in the darkness even tried to extinguish the light by putting Jesus, the light, to death.  For a moment, darkness seemed to prevail. It seemed like he was totally swallowed up by the darkness. Yet the resurrection reveals the truth—darkness cannot conquer the Light.

This is our hope: no matter how deep the darkness appears, the Light still shines, and it will never be overcome.

ohn describes the Word as Light shining in the darkness. It is of the very nature of light to shine.  We see this every morning. The night is dark, but when the sun rises, light shines all around.  

Beauty and wonder surround us every day, but without light, they remain unseen. To live in darkness would be to miss what creation has to offer to us.  Imagine what it would be like to live in the darkness! 

In the same way, Jesus is the light of the world, shining into spiritual darkness with a brilliance far greater than the dawn. His light reveals what would otherwise remain hidden. There is even greater beauty and wonder to see in God, but we must also have His light to see. Left to ourselves, we misunderstand who God is and what He is like. Yet a light has come for all people. Through it, we begin to see clearly: the character of God, the truth of His love, and the meaning of all things.

Significantly, when John tells us “the light shines in the darkness”, he uses the present tense. So, the light shining in the darkness is not just a past event but a continuing reality. The light has not faded or withdrawn; it shines still. Jesus is the Living Light—present and active now and forever.

C. S. Lewis observed, “I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” Likewise, as God’s light shines into our dark hearts, we see the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus,  and by that light we see all things as God wants us to see.

In him (The Word) was life, and that life was the light of humanity (John 1:4). 

The Word did not remain distant; he became flesh and made his dwelling among us. While walking in the world, he declared, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” Notice what he did not say: “I have the light and I will hand it to you in a book.” No—he says, “I am the light.” Life is in him, and that life shines outward as light. Those who receive him do not merely gain information; they step out of darkness and into the light of life.

Without Jesus, we remain in darkness. In darkness, we misunderstand God and easily believe false stories about him. We imagine a distant judge, an indifferent creator, or a God who must be appeased. Darkness also distorts our understanding of ourselves. We measure our worth by failure, shame, success, or comparison, and we accept lies about who we are. But when Jesus, the light of the world, enters our lives, truth begins to break through. His light exposes the lies and leads us into reality.

For John, light is not merely an idea or doctrine; light is a person who lives in relationship with the Father and invites us into that relationship. This challenges the way people think about enlightenment. Some “religious” people seem to suggest that enlightenment comes through mastering ideas or accepting propositions. Yet it is possible to agree with “truths” and still live in darkness. Illumination comes as we walk with Jesus. As we follow him, the Spirit shines light into our dark hearts, revealing who God is and who we are.

Life is at the very heart of the Gospel of John. Near the end of the book, John explicitly states that life is the purpose for which the Gospel was written: “These are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:30–31). From beginning to end, John presents life as the great gift that Jesus brings, as the Way, the Truth, and the LIFE.  

In John’s Gospel, life refers above all to eternal life. This eternal life is not merely endless existence. Jesus himself defines it in his prayer to the Father: “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3). Eternal life is relational knowledge of the Father and the Son.

The Father fully knows the Son, and the Son fully knows the Father, dwelling forever in perfect communion. Astonishingly, Jesus invites us to share in this divine fellowship. Through him, we are brought into the relationship that the Father and the Son have always enjoyed. This is why Jesus declares, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Abundant life is participation in the living relationship of God.

We enter this life through the Spirit. Jesus speaks of the Spirit as “living water” (John 4:10–14), a free gift that becomes within believers “a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” Through the Spirit dwelling within us, we are drawn into the communal knowing of the Father and the Son. In this way, eternal life is truly Trinitarian. 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being (John 1:1-3).

As John contemplates the whole universe, visible and invisible, he traces its origin to this Word, the Son. Reaching back before creation itself, John sees two persons: the Word and the Father. He sees them turned toward one another, face-to-face, sharing life, delight, and love before anything else existed. He sees not only companionship but shared action: both are active in the making of everything that is. They love to be together and to work together; their shared joy overflows into creation.

When John gazes at the world, he does not see a solitary deity producing creation alone, but all things coming from the Father through the Son, in perfect fellowship. Later, he will declare something even more astonishing: this same Word through whom all things were made became flesh and dwelt among us as one of us. And as the story unfolds, we witness Father, Son, and Spirit working in harmony again, this time to bring forth a new creation.

We often think of Jesus only in personal terms, and he really is very personal. Yet we must not stop there. The one we know personally is also cosmic. To see this, we must take the phrase “all things” seriously.  John insists on the sweep of that phrase: all things. Not some, not most, but emphatically ALL things.  In the rest of the New Testament, we learn that all things came into being through him, are held together in him, and were made for him, and in him.  At last, all things will reach their glorious climax in him (Colossians 1: 15-17; Ephesians 1:9-11).  

The prologue of John’s Gospel serves as an overture to the entire narrative, much like a musical prelude that introduces themes which later unfold in full. It opens by directing our attention to the one John calls “the Word”: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.”

The word translated “with” is strikingly intimate. It can mean “toward,” even suggesting two persons face-to-face. Eugene Peterson paraphrases, “The Word present to God, God present to the Word.” Before anything existed, the Word was turned toward God, in living communion.

So, as our minds are taken back before anything existed, we see two persons in a relationship. One is called the Word, the other God. Later, John names them more fully: the Word is the Son, and God is the Father. He pictures them in deep closeness: the Son “in the bosom of the Father,” or, as another translation renders it, “close to the Father’s heart.” So even before God made the world, relationship was at the very centre of who God is.  God himself is persons in communion.  That’s who he is.  

Here John turns us toward the eternal relation between Father and Son. Love is not yet named, but the unfolding gospel story makes clear that love is the beating heart of this fellowship. The story John tells flows from that eternal communion of love. 

The story unfolds in time when the Word became flesh and entered history. He came as one of us to draw us into the communion that is God’s own life—the communion we now share through the Spirit, the third divine person, who descended upon Jesus like a dove and whom he later promises to us.