At Sunday School one day, a small boy was busily drawing a picture. "What are you drawing?" asked his teacher. "God!" he told her. "But no one knows what God looks like!" the teacher continued. "They will when I'm finished!" he told her.

I wish I had that same confidence about this sermon. After all this is Trinity Sunday. It calls us to open up our hearts and minds to a deeper understanding of the nature, activity and mystery of God. In other words I should be making clear to you what God is all about.

The traditional way of describing God is through the persons of the Trinity; the formula of Father, Son and Holy Spirit drafted by the Council of Nicea. Over the centuries scholars have argued about what it means. Such arguments usually result in an adverse affect on our sense of spirituality. Arguing over doctrine and dogma can take precedence over our experience of God at work in the world. Facts can become more important than the expression of our faith. Explaining the unexplainable can become more important than feeling God's presence, than our experience of who God is and how God works in our lives. In short, it can make an intellectual pursuit out of something that should simply be experienced. Trinity Sunday should simply celebrate our relationship with God.

The Trinity when it comes down to it is simply a metaphor for how we experience God. In the midst of anguish and trouble it speaks to us of a God who creates us with wisdom and care, of a God who has an active, saving concern for the whole of humankind, of a God unlimited by our understanding, and totally experienced and wise. It speaks to us of a promise of a Spirit who will renew all of God's creation.

As redeemer, we experience God through Jesus' reconciling work of the cross. As sustainer, God breathes the breath of life into all members of the life-web, a living testimony to the Divine's great compassion for all living things. As creator, we experience God in the ebb and flow of the seasons. The plantings and harvests constantly remind us of earth's original blessings.

So that presents to me a deep question. What has happened to our sense as the people of God that we are one with God's creation, and that we bear responsibility as stewards of creation? How can we make a spiritual connection between God and nature and then simply ignore the serious environmental issues of our age? What does that say about our image of God?

I suspect that most of us when asked how we come to know God would say that we experience God through nature. What do you picture when you hear the words of the psalmist, "How majestic is your name in all the earth!" When do you feel closest to God? Is it in some experience of the beauty of God's creation – a sunset, a star-filled night, a deserted beach, one beautiful, perfect red rose, the sound of the birds at dawn, that first hint of spring in the air? Yet we have forgotten what it means to be stewards of God's creation. God intends that there be a balance and harmony between the creator and all created things. How do we celebrate the beauty and grace of all creation when we are destroying the balance and harmony?

Remember the children's story of the Lorax! It begins on the edge of town where Truffula Trees, heavy with fruit grow. It is a place full of life and joy. That is until the enterprising Once-ler discovers that the soft tufts of the Truffula Trees can be harvested to make clothes for the Thneeds. He proceeds to chop down all of the trees with no thought for the Swommee-Swans, Brown Bear Barbaloots and Humming-fish that depend on the trees for food and shelter. The Lorax prophesies that the Once-ler's abuse of his surroundings will result in the total destruction of the environment. The Once-ler finally realizes his folly, but by then, he bemoans, "No more trees. No more thneeds. No more work to be done. So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one, all waved me goodbye. They jumped into my cars and drove away under the smoke-smuggered stars. Now all that was left 'neath the bad-smelling sky was my big empty factory, the Lorax and I." The Lorax disappears into the smog leaving only one word behind … "Unless!"

"But now, says the Once-ler! Now that you're here, the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear. UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.

There lies at the heart of the story a deep message that we all need to hear and act upon. We live in the midst of an environmental crisis. It is time that we recognized it for what it is – a spiritual crisis, for it is only in recognizing it as a spiritual crisis that we will begin to make right God's creation.

So in a wonderful way it is fitting that we should be celebrating Trinity Sunday out of doors on a picnic. Not only are we celebrating outdoors; we are exploring this year's Jubilee theme: renewal of the earth. It is a timely call that speaks to us of the interdependence of all living things. It calls for a Spirit motivated conversion of our whole way of life, a change of heart, a renewed vision of how we, the people of God, can be stewards of creation. We are becoming educated in recycling and reusing, but until we recognize this as a spiritual problem, as the Spirit of God crying out over the destruction of created beauty, we will not be the agents of change that God is calling us to be. Rather than seeking to limit our understanding of God, rather than theologizing about God, let us see, feel and experience God in an endless variety of ways through our worship and study, but most importantly, let us interact with all of God's creation. Let us live in harmony with our environment. Let the Spirit of God reshape this wonderful creation.