The Trinity through Bisexual Lenses

In 2019, I agreed to preach on Trinity Sunday. When I sat down to work on my sermon,

I realized why a lot of people try to avoid preaching on Trinity Sunday.

The Trinity is a notoriously difficult concept. The idea of an entity being somehow

simultaneously three different divine persons and one God defies logic. Talk about the

Trinity, in fact, often revolves around describing what it is not rather than what it is, and

those nots have produced a long list of heresies in church theology.

I had studied the doctrine of the Trinity in my theological education and knew well the

heresies I needed to not commit in my sermon, but that only made it harder to put

words on the page. The lectionary text that I had to work with was a portion of Romans

5 that happened to mention Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit but did nothing to

illuminate the Trinity.

Eventually, I decided to risk veering toward one heresy and told a story about God's

love showing up in three different, surprising ways—creating, becoming human, and

moving among people at Pentecost—that somehow prompted people to identify these

activities as revelations of God. I wanted to invite us all to imagine ourselves there at

creation, at incarnation, and at Pentecost before the idea of Trinity existed and to

reflect on how we might have tried to make sense of these divine revelations in

succession. I wanted to show that the notion of a Trinity emerged from a struggle to

which we can all relate: a struggle of people seeking to be as faithful and discerning as

they can about what God is up to in this world and finding their best words and

imagery to be either inadequate to the task or absurd. I also wanted church members

to experience the Trinity not as an intellectual obstacle course, but as a word of love—

a love so abundant and unending that it didn't settle for just one revelation of God.

Over the past year or so, as I have tried to gain more insight into my identity as a

bisexual woman who came out to myself and others only a couple years ago, I have

been drawn to this teaching of the church about God as Trinity. Of all the doctrines of

Christianity, Trinity may seem the least likely place to find an affirming theological word

for queer sexualities, given the ways that theologians throughout church history have

intertwined cisheteronormative and patriarchal ideas into it. Baptism is in the name of

"Father, Son, and Holy Spirit," after all. However, when I bring my bisexual lenses to

the Trinity, I see a God whose story resonates with my own.

In U.S. society and culture, bisexuality tends to go unrecognized and get erased,

despite the fact that bi+ people make up more than half of the queer community (see

Gallup's survey data from 2025). Sexual orientation is most often categorized

according to a "gay or straight" binary, and people often assume they can identify

someone's sexual orientation based on the gender of their partner. A woman dating a

man must be straight, and if that relationship ends and she dates a woman next, then

she must actually be a lesbian. The possibility that she is bisexual or pansexual—or

that either of the persons she dates is bi or pan—rarely or never occurs to anyone

operating within a "gay or straight" mindset.

When bi+ people have to identify ourselves through this dualism, we end up appearing

"a little gay" and "a little straight." The problem with this perception is that it fuels

misunderstandings and negative stereotypes around bi+ orientations, like bi+ people

are just "confused" and need to "pick a side" (as if there are only two sides where

gender and sexual orientation are concerned). More importantly, it implicitly diminishes

the validity of bisexuality and pansexuality as real orientations and identities (for more

on these stereotypes and problems, check out the Bi Resource Center's mental health

brochure or Minus 18's article "Busting 7 Myths about Being Bisexual").

The prevalence of the "gay or straight" binary is one of the reasons I didn't fully

recognize my bisexuality earlier in life. It also makes showing up and being seen as my

full bisexual self more challenging when people assume I'm either straight or gay or

view my bisexuality through those lenses.

Human sexualities are more diverse than the identities of gay and straight. In order to

see and affirm more sexual orientations, we need a different framework.

Like a queer trinitarian one.

God's revelation of Godself and God's love began with creation, but it didn't end there.

"Creator" is just one expression of the divine identity and their love. If we in Christian

contexts treat this revelation as if it captures all of God and disallows any other

revelation of God's love, we miss seeing who God is and how God loves more fully.

(Just to be clear, I specify Christian contexts here because, while we Christians use

"Trinity" as a way of describing God more fully, I do not view this doctrine as a

measure for Jewish faith or theology. Christian and Jewish faith traditions have related

but different ways of approaching and describing God, and I personally do not think

that wielding a Christian teaching about a loving God against another faith community—

as the trinitarian doctrine has been used in church history with harmful effects—reflects

the life of love and respect for all people into which a Triune God calls

us.)

Trinity makes room for the story of God to unfold and reveal a multiplicity of love,

desire, and relationship in God. Although Christians are often taught to perceive the

Trinity as a closure—only three persons, one God—I see a profound openness in

Trinity for God to express love in more than one way and to show us more of who God

is every time God shows up. I find this particularly generative for reflecting on bi+

attraction in light of how ancient Christian contexts understood personhood to be more

relational and interdependent than contemporary American individualism envisions.

Whether we use language of "Father, Son, and Spirit," "Creator, Redeemer, and

Sustainer," or other words, the relationships at the heart of God's identity are multiple

and distinct, and all of them are integral to what it means for God to love and to be

God.

A final aspect of God's Trinity story that I appreciate as a bisexual who came out to

myself in mid-life is its nonlinear possibilities. While the arc of the story may move from

Creator to Jesus to the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost, many moments and stories

within this arc look back upon previous instances of divine revelation and recognize

this new revelation of God in prior revelations as well. Before Jesus was born, all that

he is must have been with God in creation, the authors of John's gospel and the letter

to the Colossians suggest, and who God is must have already included this expression

of love (John 1:1–3; Colossians 1:15–20). The Spirit who shows up at Pentecost seems

to be the same Spirit who was present at creation (Genesis 1:1–2), and this Spirit also

inspired Israel's prophets, worked in the life and ministry of Jesus, and gave new,

resurrected life to Jesus's body in the tomb, as the writer of Luke and Acts and the

apostle Paul, among others, indicate (see Acts 2:14–36; Luke 4:14–21; Romans 8:11).

Each revelation of God's love creates space for people to move backward and forward

through God's story and see God anew through more expressions of God's love. The

vulnerable humanity of God can also be recognized in God the Creator, and the

dynamic, empowering Spirit of God can also be recognized in the Incarnate God.

A nonlinear path through my own story has been vital for recognizing and

understanding my bisexual identity. Because I spent 40 years seeing my life through

heteronormative lenses and then through a "gay or straight" binary, I missed and

misunderstood the moments in my story where my bisexuality surfaced. Once I used

different lenses, I was able to start looking back through my story and seeing myself

more fully and truly. My bi identity didn't just show up and begin when I came out to

myself; it's been a part of me my whole life. Exploring my story nonlinearly has enabled

me to see anew various experiences in my past, like the times I wondered if I might be

bi but didn't know if that was real and the many works by queer thinkers that resonated

with me in my theological and philosophical studies while I presumed myself an

outsider to the queer community. Piecing these revelatory moments together has

helped me affirm my bisexuality for myself and value this part of me that can love

across multiple genders.

As Trinity Sunday approaches this year, I am looking forward to this feast—not simply

because I don't have to preach this time, but because I can see my own bisexual story

in the story of Trinity. Amid a society that often struggles to see bi+ people, I feel seen

by a God of queer trinitarian love. Amid a culture that tends to lump all orientations into

"straight" and "gay," I find a God who can hold my whole story and affirm my

bisexuality with me. The God who expresses love in multiple revelations is the God

who doesn't expect me to pick a side or be anyone other than who I am because this

God created me—and all of us—to love in all the amazing ways we each embody love.

I hope this feast gives all of us an affirming space to tune in to our whole stories so that

we may see God, ourselves, and one another more fully. I hope it surrounds us all with

divine love. And I hope that bi and pan folks in particular may feel seen and embraced

by the God whose love is multiple too.

by Jodi Belcher