In building a new house from old bricks, first you have to decide which bricks are worth saving, and then you have to figure out how they fit together. It's a helpful image for the way one's faith is formed over time.

First, you have to decide which traditions and doctrines, stories and experiences are worth saving — that is, which ones have something to say to your life and your communities. Then you have to figure out how they fit together. This is harder; it requires you to believe and practice them in a way that provides meaning, purpose and hope — both for shelter and for hospitality.

Last Sunday, I had an opportunity to practice that process with the doctrine of the Trinity — it was Holy Trinity Sunday, and I was preaching. Thanks to this doctrine, Christians believe in "one God in three persons": God the Father, God the Son (Jesus), and God the Holy Spirit. The Bible mentions all three separately and talks about some of their connections, but it never mentions the Trinity per se. The doctrine emerged from early Christians' controversies, such as how divine and how human Jesus really was, and where the Holy Spirit fit into the picture.

They ended up with an idea that still causes problems for Christians today trying to wrap their minds around it: God is one. And God is three. All eternal, all equal, no "big cheese" among them.

So is this "brick" worth saving? I have to admit, I can't really imagine a viable alternative. That's because, when I imagine back to a time before the doctrine existed, I see a whole lot more problems, to which the Trinity was a brilliant solution. For example, during his ministry, Jesus told people, and many believed, that the God he revealed to them was in fact the very God of the Hebrew Scriptures, the creator, the Father. So, by believing in this Jesus, were they breaking the first commandment, which says, "I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other Gods before me"? That's a problem.

Then, after his resurrection, Jesus tells the disciples he's going to go away, but he will send his Spirit, who will continue revealing God's truth to them and to future generations. Well, if these three persons aren't one God, then the Spirit starts to sound like the assistant to the Son who's the assistant to the Father. And suddenly you're back to a spiritual life in which you're forever trying and failing to get the attention of the big cheese, the Father. That's a problem too.

To me, the Trinity solves more problems than it creates. So, yes, this old brick is part of my new house. Then the question becomes, where does it fit? What does it have to say to me, that helps me live faithfully with God and with others?

Here's what the Trinity tells me:

— God the Father is transcendent, infinite, creator of the universe.

— God the Son became flesh in Jesus and lived among people 2,000 years ago, experienced death and resurrection, and made reconciliation possible between people and God. God still shows up "in the flesh" in the sacraments and in strangers and friends Jesus called my "neighbors."

— God the Holy Spirit moves among and within and through individuals and communities today, just as in previous generations.

— All those are the same God. When I come to know one, I know them all.

That means, when I see evidence of resurrection — healing and hope in my life or in a relationship, for example — that's the same power at work that created the universe. When I sense God working through me when I love beyond my own capacity, that is the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. When I fall to my knees in awe at the intricacy and beauty of creation, I can communicate with that divine creative power because, thanks to Jesus, God also knows what it's like to be human. They're all one.

We can experience the divine in very different ways. But because God is one, they become pieces of one puzzle, rather than scattered fragments that I somehow have to piece together myself.

Because God is also three, the Trinity calls me back to balance in my faith. Look what happens when I leave out or de-emphasize one of the Trinity's "persons":

— Without the transcendent, all-powerful, and often hidden God the Father, faith becomes a feel-good proposition in which Jesus loves me and the Holy Spirit is my buddy.

— Without the human, teaching, suffering Jesus, faith becomes distant, depersonalized and ethereal. It also loses energy for social justice, because it calls less attention to the ones Jesus called "the least of these," my neighbors.

— Without the present, active, often surprising Holy Spirit, faith can become distant, with God up in heaven somewhere and Jesus just a historical figure.

With its unifying power and stabilizing balance, the Trinity is the frame of my "new house" of faith. It is grounded in the foundation of Jesus, God incarnate. Its mystery leaves space to breathe. It holds up the walls, the boundaries that show me where my faith-house begins and ends. And yet, once the walls are filled in, you don't see the frame much — except on Trinity Sunday.

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Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.