At first I had planned to being this sermon by asking, "what would you think of a Lutheran Church which for over 112 years has been taking money under false pretenses?" But, on second thought, as an opening sentence for Trinity Sunday, that sounded a bit too negative. So, I tried again: "What would you think of a church, which for 112 years, has been sailing under false colors?" Frankly that was small improvement. So I tried one more time: "What would you think of a Lutheran Church which for all these years has been going under an assumed name?"

This third and final version, negative or not, was the way the question would have to stand. Honesty forces me. This church has been traveling under an assumed name, and even after all these years, it is not too late to admit the secret. Zion, admit it. Confess that your name is not your own. And, in this particular case, the rule seems to be, if you're going to assume a name, assume a big one. And we picked a whopper. I am not talking about the name, Zion, the name of the hill on which the city of Jerusalem is built. Not that name.

But, think of it this way. You don't admit a suspicious looking stranger into your home, until she or he has at least given you his or her name, and given proof that you can trust the person on your property.

When you and I in our services together in this church, come near to the altar, which symbolizes God, we come as suspicious looking stranger. Worse than that, we come as known trespassers and law breakers. The Owner of the home in this case recognizes us instantly for what we are: the very vandals who have been violating God's property all over creation, abusing and ignoring God's children, ignoring and distrusting God, and generally trying God's patience by our disobedience.

And we don't fool God either, by disguising ourselves in liturgical dress, dressing in our Sunday clothes, or coming with a hymnal or Bible in our hands. To borrow a rather earthy figure from scriptures: "God smells us afar off, and God does not like what God smells."

In view of who we are and how we look to God, it would hardly do for us to come tromping up to God's altar and announce: "Well, here we are ...........................John Jurik, Alice Johnson, or Zion congregation!"

To which God might answer: "Indeed, so you are here.............Is that supposed to entitle you to something?" Actually, that is more than enough reason for God to put us out out, Jesus says, "to outer darkness." For we do deserve the full punishment of our sins: "The wages of sin is death."

Yet, we sometimes behave as though God has no admission requirements; as though God is content to accept us the way we are; and that, in church especially, God is virtually on the edge of God's chair waiting for us to drop in, or is just crushed if we deprive God of the pleasure of our company. But there is no coming into the presence of the holy, most high and mighty, living God so long as we come by our own names.

We can do so much better than that. And we do. We go by another name: the name of the Father and the of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, the Holy Trinity, whom we worship and adore every day, and especially on this Trinity Sunday. This name is familiar, of course, to the Owner of this house, for it is God's own name.

Because it is God's own, and not ours, one would think that God now has still another reason to evict us, to kick us out for blasphemy, for using God's name falsely, thus breaking the Second Commandment. One might think that God would now thunder back at us, "Why, you aren't in my family. You are no namesakes of mine." Of course, that is always a possibility. That is the danger of every sinner, the mortal danger which everyone risks who takes God's name lightly, without thinking.

But to those who take the name in fear and trembling, and in all boldness and confidence what about them? With them the Owner is delighted! Would you believe that? God is delighted with this assumed name of ours, and delighted with the boldness with which we use God's name. In fact, wasn't it God who gave the name to us in the first place? To each of us, one by one, when years ago some pastor spoke the words over us, "I baptized you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."...By water and long before that, by the blood of Jesus Christ?

It is like my car. Now that we've complete payments on it, I hold the title. It is in my name. It wasn't always, but now it is. We weren't always in Christ's name. And by all that's right, it is a shocking thing God did, claiming to switch titles on us with no cost to us  except, of course, that we lose our old, embarrassing names. But that, as St. Paul said, is like losing garbage.

The new name did cost something: God's own Son, God's only one. It is indeed a high-priced name we have. The innocent blood of Jesus shed to free the guilty; the second person of this God we name as Triune, redeemed those creatures who revolted, us, the convicted who are now daily made holy by God's Spirit.

This new name, when it is used in good faith, is t he password, the "open sesame" to home. It brings us orphans into a whole new family, a new identity, a new history, the history of our Older Brother Jesus, the first born among many, a new life breath, and a Father. That's an awful lot to rattle off in one sentence.

That's why, at the beginning of the service, we stand before God's altar as if God were demanding our credentials. And that' why, in the words of the presiding minister, we announce with all boldness that we are here in the Triune Name: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all."

"We bind to ourselves the strong name of the Trinity." That's why the lasts line of all our prayers, not as an after-thought but as the punch-line is "in the name of Jesus we pray."

And we go by that blessed name, that name which is above every other name, not only in church, but in all our relations in the community. In all our relations, for you are among relatives, your namesakes. As you repeat your name for the third time to a forgetful pastor, or you introduce yourself to a visitor, we have had a few lately, or when you greet one another in the narthex or coffee hour. You may notice in the other party, if you are looking for it, a sly wink, a knowing smile, as if he or she were saying to you, "Oh, I know who you are, who you really are," as he catches the secret in your handshake. As if he were saying with St. Paul, "From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view...if anyone is in Christ, that one is a new creation."

If I were the devil, and I guess all of us have some qualifications for that role, I would do everything I could in this congregation to undermine the Strong Name of the Triune God. Of course, I would not be so obvious. I would not attack the Name itself. I wouldn't get very far.

But I would undermine those who use the name. That way I could make my hideous point, namely, the Name cannot be very strong, not if it is used by weak people like these.

Don't believe it, sisters and brothers, namesakes. The enemy in our midst is not really as tough as he got us imagining. Just try dropping the strong name of Jesus Christ in the devil's presence, and see what happens. And if at the drop of this name you notice the devils trembling, the principalities and powers of the night looking for a quick exit, the very law of God silenced in its accusations, otherwise timid people refusing to be forced into hating each other, or refusing to gossip about leaders or committees or neighbors, then just remember. That isn't the first time; that's been going on around here for 112 years. Nor will it be the last time. This name carries a lot of weight. It carries you and me, all the way to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

You've been going on an assumed name, Zion. Going, is right. Go, and keep on going.