If God is one, why does the Bible refer to Him in the plural?
"Let us make man in our image." Wait, hold on. If God is one, why is He saying "us"? Is there more than one God? Who's He talking to? This question has puzzled readers for centuries, and today, we're going to unpack one of the most intriguing mysteries in Scripture.
Welcome Back
Welcome back to Word for Word, I'm Austin Duncan, and I'm so glad you're here with me today as we dive into what might be one of the most fascinating questions in all of Scripture. You know, I love these moments when we get to explore something that makes us go, "Wait a minute... I never noticed that before." And today's topic is exactly that kind of moment.
Have you ever been reading through Genesis and suddenly stopped at chapter 1, verse 26? Maybe you've read it a hundred times before, but then one day it hits you like a ton of bricks. US? OUR? "Who is God talking to?" Maybe you start flipping through your Bible, looking for some footnote you’ve missed. You check the verses before and after. Everything else was singular – "God said," "God saw," "God created." But right here, at arguably the most important moment in creation – when God's about to make human beings – suddenly it's plural. And you think, "Us? Our? I thought we believed in one God!" I mean, isn't that kind of the whole point? "Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one." That's Deuteronomy 6:4, the Shema, literally the most important prayer in Judaism.
We're monotheists. One God. That's what separates us from all those ancient mythologies with their pantheons of gods, right? Well, you're not alone in that observation. In fact, if you've noticed this and it's made you scratch your head, congratulations – you're in excellent company. This question has been asked by theologians, scholars, and everyday Bible readers for literally thousands of years. I'm talking about people like Saint Augustine puzzling over this in the 4th century. Martin Luther wrestling with it during the Reformation. Your grandmother who's read through the Bible twenty times and still pauses at this verse. That teenager in your youth group who raised their hand last week and asked the exact same question you're thinking right now.
And the beautiful thing is, when we dig into it, we discover something absolutely incredible about the nature of God that will enrich your faith and deepen your worship. Because here's what I've learned: sometimes the passages that puzzle us the most are the ones that end up blessing us the most. Sometimes the questions that seem like problems turn out to be doorways into deeper truth. We're going to discover that these two little letters – U.S. – might just reveal more about who God is than a thousand theology textbooks. And I promise you, by the end of our time together, you'll never read Genesis 1:26 the same way again. In fact, you might just find yourself falling more in love with the God who made you than ever before. Because that's what happened to me. What started as confusion turned into wonder. What began as a question mark became an exclamation point of praise.
The Key Passages
So where do we go from here? When a moment like Genesis 1:26 catches our attention, the best next step is to slow down and look closely. This isn’t the only place in the Bible where God speaks in the plural, it’s not an isolated moment. Rather, there’s a pattern—subtle, but consistent—that shows up at key moments in the Bible. So, if we want to understand what’s really going on, we need to examine these moments side by side. Let’s take a look at the primary passages where this kind of language appears. I want you to notice both what’s similar and what’s different in each case, because the details matter.
Genesis 1:26 – The Creation of Humanity
This is probably the most well-known and frequently discussed example. Picture the scene: God has been creating the universe, speaking everything into existence with singular commands. "Let there be light." "Let there be an expanse." "Let the waters teem with living creatures." Each act is described with singular verbs—God speaks, God sees, God separates, God creates. There’s a steady rhythm of divine speech and divine action, and it's all in the singular.
But then, when it comes time to create human beings, something changes. The rhythm we've grown used to breaks. Instead of another singular command, we read: "Then God said, 'Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.'" That single sentence breaks the pattern that has been set up over 25 verses. It raises a flag. Why is God speaking in the plural here? Who is included in the “us”?
Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer picked up on this moment in his commentary on Genesis, noting that this shift in language reflects “the significance and sublimity of the Creator's action.” In other words, there’s a pause here. A weightiness. This is not just another creative act; it’s something distinctive. It marks humanity as uniquely different from the rest of creation—not just in content, but even in how God talks about the act beforehand.
And then verse 27 immediately shifts back to singular: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.” The structure is important. The plural deliberation is followed by singular execution. God speaks as “us,” but acts as one. This pattern—that distinction between plural speech and singular action—raises important questions about how we understand God's nature. The text doesn’t resolve the tension; it leaves it there for us to notice and consider. And that’s exactly the point. The mystery isn’t a flaw—it’s intentional.
Genesis 3:22 – After the Fall
Now we move to Genesis 3, right after Adam and Eve have eaten from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The narrative slows down. The consequences of their decision unfold immediately: shame, hiding, blame. Then we hear this remarkable statement from God: “Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil.” It’s another moment of divine speech in the plural—“one of us.” But what does that mean?
Here again, God is not just making a statement about human knowledge; He’s acknowledging a shift. Something has changed. Human beings have crossed a boundary, and they now possess a knowledge that puts them in a different category than the rest of creation. But notice: this knowledge is not celebrated—it’s lamented. It’s not a gain; it’s a loss. God doesn’t say they’ve become divine, but “like one of us”—a limited likeness that brings consequences, not empowerment.
The plural form is significant. Some interpret it as the divine council—God speaking among heavenly beings, as seen in other Old Testament texts. Others see it as another hint of intra-divine communication, especially in light of Christian theology. But the consistent feature remains: this is plural speech followed by singular action.
Verse 23 continues: “Therefore the LORD God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken.” That’s not a group decision being carried out by a group—it’s one Lord, acting alone. The text makes that point clear. The LORD God is the one who sends them out. The same singularity we saw in creation is maintained here in judgment.
There’s also a narrative parallel at work. In Genesis 1, God speaks in the plural when creating human beings. Now, after they’ve disobeyed, He again uses plural speech to describe what they’ve become. In both cases, humanity’s identity is at the center—first as image-bearers, now as fallen. The plural phrasing brackets both the glory and the tragedy of what it means to be human. And in both cases, God alone carries out the decisive action. That’s worth noticing.
Genesis 11:7 – The Tower of Babel
Next, we arrive at Genesis 11 and the Tower of Babel. This passage shifts the focus to collective human ambition. The people want to build a city and a tower “with its top in the heavens,” and in doing so, “make a name for ourselves.” It’s prideful, unifying rebellion—a self-made project designed to secure their identity apart from God.
God’s response includes another moment of plural speech: “Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another's speech.” Just like Genesis 1 and 3, we encounter God speaking as “us.” Again, the same question arises: who is He talking to? Angels? A divine council? Is this a plural of deliberation? Or is it, from a Christian lens, a glimpse into divine complexity?
Whatever view you take, what follows is familiar. Verse 8 says, “So the LORD dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city.” The action is attributed to the LORD—singular. Just like in the previous examples, the plural speech is followed by singular execution. It’s consistent, and by this third instance, it begins to feel patterned.
But there’s also something new here: this plural moment is tied not just to identity (as in Genesis 1 and 3), but to judgment through confusion. God frustrates their ability to collaborate by disrupting their language. It’s a reversal of their unity—one meant to slow the spread of human arrogance. And yet, even in this act of judgment, there’s mercy. God stops them not by force, but by language. He dismantles their pride without destroying them.
This adds another layer to the pattern. In creation, fall, and now divine intervention, plural speech surfaces at key turning points in the human story. Each time, it frames a critical shift—followed by a singular act of God. The “us” language invites reflection, but the action points clearly to one actor: the LORD.
Isaiah 6:8 – The Commissioning of Isaiah
Finally, we arrive at Isaiah 6—arguably one of the most awe-filled scenes in all of prophetic literature. Isaiah is granted a vision of the Lord “high and lifted up,” seated on a throne, with seraphim crying out, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” Smoke fills the temple. The foundations shake. Isaiah cries out in fear and conviction. It’s not just dramatic—it’s overwhelming.
Then comes the cleansing. A seraph touches his lips with a burning coal and tells him his guilt is taken away. And that’s when the voice of the Lord speaks. Here’s what we hear: “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” One question, two perspectives. “Whom shall I send”—that’s singular. “Who will go for us”—that’s plural. This is the only instance in our set where singular and plural are joined in one sentence. That alone makes it stand out.
The fusion of voices here is not accidental. It captures a dynamic that’s been hinted at throughout Scripture: God is both singular and plural in some meaningful way. Isaiah’s commissioning emerges not just from divine command but from divine community. There’s an internal dialogue that mirrors the previous examples, but this time it’s wrapped in mission, not creation or judgment.
Isaiah’s response is immediate: “Here I am! Send me.” He doesn’t ask who “us” refers to. He doesn’t pause to analyze the grammar. He volunteers. That’s important. The mystery doesn’t paralyze him—it calls him. And that’s often what these plural moments in Scripture do. They don’t offer tidy explanations. They invite us into something deeper.
Here too, the action that follows is singular. Isaiah is sent by the Lord—one sender, one call, one mission. But he goes “for us,” reflecting a divine unity that includes plurality. It’s not contradiction—it’s tension. And that tension is part of what makes these moments so compelling.
The Pattern Emerges
So what do we see when we step back and look at these four passages together? A consistent pattern emerges—one that isn’t random or incidental but appears to be carefully placed.
First, God speaks using plural pronouns—“us,” “our.” It’s not occasional or stylistic; it shows up at precise moments. These aren’t throwaway phrases or poetic embellishments. They occur when something weighty is happening: the creation of humanity, the fallout of sin, the scattering of nations, and the calling of a prophet. These are not everyday scenes. They’re key turning points in the biblical narrative. And at each one, we hear God speak in the plural.
Second, the context is always significant. These aren’t moments of routine communication. In Genesis 1, God is preparing to make human beings in His image—the climax of the creation account. In Genesis 3, He’s responding to the entrance of sin into the world. In Genesis 11, He’s addressing coordinated rebellion at a global scale. And in Isaiah 6, He’s commissioning a prophet to confront a nation with His word. In each case, the stakes are high. God is making a major move in human history. And right before He does, we hear this plural language.
Third, plural speech is always followed by singular action. In every example, God speaks as “us” but acts alone. “Let us make…” is followed by “So God created.” “Let us go down…” is followed by “So the LORD scattered them.” There’s no division in execution. The Bible is clear: only one God acts, and He acts decisively. The plural speech doesn’t imply multiple creators or competing deities. The actions remain singular, unified, and consistent with the Bible’s portrayal of one sovereign Lord.
Fourth, and just as important, the rest of Scripture is unwavering in its commitment to monotheism. From Deuteronomy 6:4—“The LORD our God, the LORD is one”—to the prophetic writings and the teachings of Jesus and Paul, the message is constant. There is only one God. Not many gods, not a divine committee, not fragments of divinity. One God, consistent in character, power, and purpose.
So where does that leave us?
Well, it’s not a contradiction. It’s not a mistake in the text. These moments are deliberate. They aren’t undermining monotheism—they’re pressing us to think more carefully about who God is. If the Bible consistently affirms that God is one, but also shows us these moments of plural speech, then the question isn’t “Is the Bible confused?” The question is: What is the Bible showing us about the nature of God that might be more complex than we assumed?
That’s the real tension. And it’s the doorway into a deeper understanding—one that the rest of Scripture will continue to develop.
Four Major Interpretations
So if this plural language isn’t a contradiction or just poetic, then what is it? What are we supposed to make of these moments where God speaks as “us”?
That question has been at the center of theological discussion for centuries. And while the Bible doesn’t give us a footnote explaining the grammar, generations of scholars, rabbis, and theologians have offered thoughtful responses, throughout history, theologians and scholars have proposed four main explanations for these plural references. And here's what I love – each of these interpretations actually teaches us something valuable about God, even if we end up concluding that one is more likely than the others.
1. The Plural of Majesty (The Royal “We”)
The first interpretation is known as the plural of majesty, sometimes called the royal we. It’s the idea that God, as the supreme King, is using the kind of language royalty sometimes uses to emphasize their authority and dignity. A famous example comes from Queen Victoria, who reportedly said, “We are not amused”—even though she was speaking only for herself. Applied to Genesis 1:26, this view suggests that when God says, “Let us make man in our image,” He isn’t talking to anyone else. He’s simply using majestic, royal language to highlight the importance of what He’s about to do. The plural form isn't meant to imply multiple persons or beings—it’s a stylistic way of showing God's greatness.
This view has been especially common among Jewish interpreters. In the 10th century, Rabbi Saadia Gaon argued that God was speaking “after the manner of kings”—the way ancient rulers often made proclamations using plural forms. And since God is described throughout Scripture as the ultimate King, the logic follows: royal speech fits a royal speaker.
Supporters of this view also point to the Hebrew word Elohim, which is the word most often used for God in the Old Testament. Elohim is technically a plural noun, but when referring to the one true God, it’s paired with singular verbs. That might be another way Scripture uses plural forms to express God’s majesty rather than plurality of persons.
Strengths of This View
One of the main strengths of this interpretation is that it fully preserves monotheism. There’s no suggestion of multiple gods—it keeps the focus on one God who speaks in a way that reflects His status. It also ties in well with the grammar of Elohim, offering a consistent way of explaining plural forms used for God.
Challenges to This View
However, there are a few significant challenges. The most important one is historical: we don’t see any examples of Hebrew kings in the Old Testament using the “royal we.” When David or Solomon speak, they say “I,” not “we.” The earliest clear examples of the plural of majesty in history come from the Byzantine period, around the 4th century AD—much later than Genesis.
There’s also the issue of frequency. If this were a common feature of royal or divine speech, we might expect to see it more often. But in the Bible, these plural forms are rare. Most of the time, God speaks about Himself in the singular: “I am the LORD,” not “We are the LORD.” That makes the plural references in places like Genesis 1:26 stand out even more—they’re not the norm.
So while the plural of majesty provides a way to explain the grammar while upholding monotheism, it may not fully account for why the plural language shows up where—and only where—it does.
2. The Divine Council – God Addressing His Angels
The second major interpretation is that God is speaking to His heavenly court—angelic beings who surround His throne. This view is often referred to as the divine council interpretation.
The idea here is that when God says, “Let us make man in our image,” He’s addressing the angels who are in His presence. He’s not asking for their help in creation, nor is He attributing divine power to them. Instead, He’s including them in the announcement of what He’s about to do. Think of it like a king addressing his court before taking action: the decision and the execution are his alone, but he speaks in the presence of others.
This concept of a divine council shows up in several places in Scripture. In 1 Kings 22, the prophet Micaiah sees a vision of God on His throne with “all the host of heaven” standing by Him. In Job 1 and 2, the “sons of God”—a common term for angels—present themselves before the LORD. And in Isaiah 6, the seraphim are present in the throne room when God speaks the words, “Who will go for us?” So the Bible does support the idea that God is not alone in heaven—He is surrounded by heavenly beings who witness His decrees.
According to this interpretation, Genesis 1:26 is another example of that pattern. God is speaking aloud to His heavenly court, declaring His intention to create human beings. One helpful analogy might be a CEO saying to their board, “Let’s launch this product,” even though the actual implementation is entirely the CEO’s responsibility. It’s an announcement, not a delegation.
This view also has support in Jewish tradition. In the Talmud, there’s a story where Moses asks God why He used “us” in Genesis 1:26. God responds, “I consulted my ministering angels—even though I didn’t need their advice—to teach humility, that the greater should consult the lesser.” It’s a rhetorical gesture meant to teach something, not a literal sharing of creative work.
Strengths of This View
One of the strengths of this interpretation is that it’s grounded in biblical imagery. The presence of angels around God’s throne is well established in both the Old and New Testaments. It also takes the plural language at face value—God is genuinely speaking in the company of others. And in the context of the ancient Near East, where divine councils were a common cultural motif, the original readers might have naturally understood it that way.
It also avoids any theological confusion about multiple gods or divine beings acting as co-creators. The focus remains on God as the sole Creator, while acknowledging that His words may have been spoken in a larger setting.
Challenges to This View
However, there are some theological complications. The biggest issue is the phrase, “in our image, after our likeness.” If God is speaking to angels and saying that humanity will bear our image, that would imply humans are made in the image of both God and angels. But Scripture doesn’t support that. In fact, it’s consistently clear that humans are made in God’s image—not in the image of any other created beings.
The early church fathers also had concerns with this view. Tertullian, writing in the early 3rd century, argued strongly that God wasn’t speaking to angels but to His Son. He noted that angels are never described as sharing in the work of creation, nor are they ever said to create life or bear the divine image. According to this line of thinking, including angels in this moment would be theologically misleading.
So while the divine council view is rooted in biblical imagery and ancient tradition, it raises important questions about the nature of the image of God and who shares in it.
3. Literary Self-Deliberation
The third interpretation takes a more literary approach. It suggests that the plural language is a way of portraying God's internal deliberation—like a moment of self-reflection captured in dialogue. In this view, God isn’t addressing other beings, but is instead thinking out loud within the narrative.
We actually use this kind of language in everyday conversation. You might say to yourself, “Let’s think this through,” or “What should we do here?” even though you’re alone. It’s not about involving others; it’s just a natural way of expressing internal thought. Some scholars suggest that Genesis is using similar language to show that God’s decision to create humanity is thoughtful and intentional. In this reading, the phrase “Let us make man in our image” isn’t God consulting angels or speaking as a king—it’s a narrative technique designed to highlight the significance of the moment. It gives the reader a sense that this isn’t a routine command. There’s pause, reflection, and weight behind it.
There’s also biblical precedent for God being portrayed as deliberating. In Genesis 18:17, for example, God says, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do?” He doesn’t need to ask anyone’s opinion, but the text still records His inner reasoning. That kind of language helps the reader grasp the importance of what’s unfolding.
Strengths of This View
This interpretation has the advantage of respecting the literary style of Genesis. It doesn’t try to flatten the text into either rigid literalism or abstract theology. Instead, it recognizes that the biblical authors sometimes use narrative devices to draw us into God’s perspective. The use of plural language in this case would be a way of marking key moments—when God is about to act in a way that changes the course of history.
It also avoids introducing new figures into the conversation. There’s no need to speculate about a divine council or invoke theological categories. The focus stays on God alone, but it allows room for the text to show that God's decisions carry depth and purpose.
Challenges to This View
Still, this view comes with challenges. One concern is that it might feel like it’s reducing a potentially rich theological moment to a literary flourish. While it's true that we often speak this way in English, it’s less clear whether ancient Hebrew used this kind of self-talk in the same way.
Another issue is consistency. The plural language shows up not just in Genesis 1 but in several distinct moments—creation, the fall, the Tower of Babel, and Isaiah’s vision. These aren't just internal thoughts; they often involve action, declaration, or commissioning. That recurring pattern suggests the plural may be doing more than just signaling reflection. It might be pointing to something deeper, something about how God chooses to reveal Himself at pivotal moments.
So while the literary self-deliberation view offers a thoughtful explanation rooted in the narrative structure of the Bible, it may not fully account for the theological weight these plural expressions carry across Scripture.
4. An Early Hint of the Trinity
The fourth interpretation—and the one most widely embraced within Christian theology—is that these plural expressions are early indicators of the Trinity. According to this view, when God says, “Let us make man in our image,” we’re being given a glimpse of an inner divine conversation: not between God and angels, nor as royal speech or narrative reflection, but among the persons of the triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Now, it’s important to clarify something upfront: the doctrine of the Trinity is not fully developed or explicitly taught in the Old Testament. You won’t find a complete formulation of “three persons, one essence” in Genesis or Isaiah. That fuller doctrinal clarity comes through the New Testament, especially in passages like Matthew 28:19 and John 14–17. However, Christians have long seen these plural moments in the Old Testament as consistent with and pointing toward the Trinity—a shadow of what would later be fully revealed.
Historical Foundations
This interpretation has deep and early roots in Christian tradition. In the 2nd century, Justin Martyr argued that Genesis 1:26 records the Father speaking to the Son. Irenaeus, a student of Polycarp (who had been a student of the Apostle John), taught that God created through His “two hands”—the Son and the Spirit. This wasn’t abstract speculation; it was grounded in how these early Christians read both Testaments as a unified story.
As church history progressed, this interpretation remained strong. The Reformers—people like Luther and Calvin—affirmed it. The Puritans, including commentators like Matthew Henry, read Genesis 1:26 as Trinitarian. And among evangelicals today, it’s still the most commonly held explanation for why God speaks in the plural during key moments in the Old Testament.
Biblical Connections
The New Testament offers further support. Scripture clearly teaches that all three persons of the Trinity are involved in creation:
The Father is the source of creation.
The Son is the agent through whom creation happens: “All things were made through Him [the Word], and without Him was not anything made that was made” (John 1:3).
The Spirit is present and active: “The Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters” (Genesis 1:2).
Colossians 1:16 says of Christ: “By Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible.”
In light of this, reading “Let us make man” as a conversation among the persons of the Trinity makes theological sense. The plural language aligns perfectly with the New Testament’s picture of a tri-personal God working in unified purpose.
Isaiah and the Triune Presence
And it’s not just in Genesis. Think back to Isaiah 6:8—“Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” The plural form is there again. But the New Testament opens up this scene even more:
John 12:41 says that Isaiah saw Jesus’s glory.
Acts 28:25 says that the Holy Spirit was the one speaking through Isaiah.
The one sending is clearly the Lord, understood as the Father.
So, even though Isaiah himself may not have grasped the full implications, the New Testament writers see this moment as involving all three persons of the Trinity.
Strengths of This View
One of the major strengths of this interpretation is that it honors the full canon of Scripture. It doesn’t isolate Genesis from the Gospels or treat Isaiah as disconnected from John. Instead, it sees the unity of divine authorship at work across time. God may not have revealed everything at once, but He did plant patterns, clues, and consistent language that point forward to a greater clarity.
It also explains the tension we’ve seen throughout these plural passages: God speaks as “us” but acts as one. That tension matches perfectly with the doctrine of the Trinity. God is one in essence, but three in persons. So He can say “us” without compromising monotheism, because the “us” is internal to His being.
As Charles Spurgeon once preached, “God said, ‘Let us make man in our image’—man must not be content until he knows something of the ‘us’ from whom his being was derived.” In other words, if we’re made in the image of this God, then understanding who God is matters deeply. It’s not just theological precision—it’s about relationship, worship, and identity.
Potential Concerns
Still, some raise an important caution. Is it responsible to read the Trinity back into Old Testament texts when the original audience likely wouldn’t have understood them that way? Would Moses or Isaiah have had a concept of three divine persons?
Probably not—not in the developed way we see in the New Testament. But Christians have long held that Scripture has layers of meaning, and that God, as the ultimate author, can embed truth that becomes clearer over time. The Bible doesn’t just speak to its first readers—it also speaks forward. These plural moments might not have been fully understood at the time, but they were not accidental. They set the stage for what was to come.
So while this view requires us to read Genesis and Isaiah in light of later revelation, it doesn’t distort them—it completes them. The Trinity isn’t inserted into the Old Testament artificially. It’s anticipated, hinted at, and later unveiled. These plural expressions, then, aren’t just curious phrases—they're early signals of the God Christians believe has always existed as Father, Son, and Spirit.
So Which Is It?
Here's what I find beautiful about this question – the interpretations aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Let me explain what I mean.
When we look at these passages we can see the following:
The plural language does convey God's majesty (He is the supreme King)
The heavenly court may well have been present when God spoke
The deliberative nature of the language does highlight the significance of these moments
And ultimately, in light of full biblical revelation, we see that these passages are wonderfully consistent with God's triune nature
Rather than forcing a choice between them, we can recognize that Scripture often speaks with layered meaning. The same words that pointed ancient readers to God’s majesty and authority can also prepare later readers to see the fullness of who He is. Taken together, these interpretations help us approach the text with greater humility and a wider lens—seeing not contradiction, but complexity that points us deeper into the character of God revealed across the whole of Scripture.
Why This Matters
At this point, you might be asking a very reasonable question: “Okay, this is interesting theology—but why does it matter for my life?” That’s exactly the right question. Because the goal of biblical study isn’t just information—it’s transformation. Theology isn’t meant to stay in a textbook or a classroom; it’s meant to shape how we see God, how we relate to Him, and how we live.
Let me give you a few reasons why this topic—the plural language of God and what it reveals—matters more than we might think.
1. It Deepens Our Worship
Understanding that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were all involved in our creation profoundly changes the way we worship. It reminds us that God’s relationship with us didn’t begin at the cross—it began at the very beginning. The triune God wasn’t just active in salvation; He was active in creation. That means we were created through the collaborative love and will of the Trinity.
We don’t worship a generic higher power or a detached Creator. We worship a God who exists in relationship, who created us from relationship for relationship. The Father planned, the Son brought it into being, and the Spirit gave it breath and life. That’s not abstract doctrine—it’s personal. It means your existence wasn’t a solo act of power but a divine act of love.
As J.C. Ryle, the 19th-century Anglican bishop, put it:
“It was the whole Trinity, which at the beginning of creation said, ‘Let us make man.’ It was the whole Trinity again, which at the beginning of the Gospel seemed to say, ‘Let us save man.’”
That’s a powerful connection. The same triune God who made us is the one who redeems us. From Genesis to the Gospels, it’s the same voice, the same will, the same love.
And what does that do? It fuels our worship—not just with gratitude, but with awe. We’re drawn not just to God’s power, but to His character. We praise Him not just because He made us, but because He has made Himself known.
2. It Illuminates Our Identity
Genesis 1:26 says, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” That statement is foundational to how we understand who we are as human beings. But the fuller impact of that phrase becomes even more meaningful when we understand who God is.
If God is triune—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in eternal relationship—then being made in His image means we’re made in the image of a relational God. That changes everything. It tells us that we weren’t created to exist as isolated individuals. From the very beginning, we were made for connection—first with God, and then with each other.
God is love (1 John 4:8). And love isn’t just something God does—it’s something God is. But love requires relationship. You can’t have love in a vacuum. That’s one reason the Trinity matters so much: it shows us that God has always been in relationship. Before there were people, before there was a universe, there was love—Father, Son, and Spirit in perfect unity.
That means relationship isn’t an add-on to our humanity. It’s built into our design. It’s part of what it means to reflect the image of God. Just as God lives in communion, so we were created for communion—with Him and with one another. This isn’t about personality types or social preferences. It’s theological. We’re wired for connection because we reflect a God who is connection.
This helps explain why isolation is so damaging—not just emotionally, but spiritually. When we live cut off from meaningful relationship, we’re living out of sync with our created purpose. That’s why community matters. That’s why loneliness hurts. That’s why Scripture keeps pointing us toward mutual encouragement, bearing one another’s burdens, and living as members of one body.
And it also shows us why the church is more than a weekly gathering or a social club. It’s a spiritual family, designed by God to reflect something of His relational nature. When the church functions as it should—with love, interdependence, and unity—it becomes a living picture of the God in whose image we were made.
So when we talk about being made in the image of God, we’re not just talking about reason or morality or creativity—we’re talking about relationship. Being human means being made for connection. And understanding God as triune gives that truth both depth and direction.
3. It Grounds Our Salvation
Seeing the Trinity involved in creation isn’t just about origins—it also helps us grasp the nature of our salvation. The same triune God who said, “Let us make man,” is the one who acts in history to redeem us. The work of salvation is not a change in God’s character or a new strategy He adopted along the way—it flows from who God has always been.
The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit each play distinct yet unified roles in the work of redemption. The Father initiates, sending the Son into the world. The Son accomplishes our salvation through His life, death, and resurrection. And the Spirit applies that finished work to our lives—convicting, regenerating, indwelling, and sealing us for the day of redemption.
This isn’t theological trivia—it’s deeply practical. When we understand that salvation is a Trinitarian work, it gives us confidence that our salvation doesn’t rest on us. It doesn’t rest on our feelings, our performance, or our ability to hold it all together. It rests on the full weight of the Godhead.
The Father chose us before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4–5).
The Son redeemed us by His blood and now intercedes for us (Romans 8:34).
The Spirit seals us as a guarantee of our inheritance (Ephesians 1:13–14).
All three persons of the Trinity are involved—and all are fully committed. That gives us incredible assurance. This isn’t a partial effort. It’s not that one person of the Trinity decided to save and the others went along with it. The entire Godhead is unified in rescuing and restoring us.
To say it simply: God didn’t save us halfway. He saved us fully, purposefully, and relationally. The same triune God who made you in love has also saved you in love—and is keeping you by that same love.
That kind of salvation isn’t shaky. It’s anchored in who God is, not in how we feel. And when we see our salvation as rooted in the very nature of God, we can rest. We can worship. And we can live with the kind of security that only comes from knowing the whole Trinity is for us.
4. It Shapes Our Mission
Go back to Isaiah 6:8—“Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” That question wasn’t just for Isaiah. It echoes forward into the mission of the church today. The triune God who created and redeemed the world also sends His people into that world with a message of hope, reconciliation, and truth.
When Jesus gave the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19, He did it with Trinitarian clarity: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” That’s not accidental. The mission of the church is carried out in the name—and under the authority—of the triune God. When we proclaim the gospel, we are not simply sharing ideas about a higher power. We are representing the God who made the world, redeemed it, and is actively working to renew it.
This shapes how we think about evangelism, discipleship, and service. We're not operating independently. We're not relying on charisma, strategy, or cultural leverage. We’re participating in a mission that began in the heart of the Trinity. And because of that, we carry out that mission with both humility and confidence.
The Father sends with authority.
The Son goes with us—“I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).
The Spirit empowers us, equips us, and gives us the words we need in the moment (Acts 1:8; Luke 12:12).
This also means we’re never alone. The mission of God is not a burden He lays on our shoulders and then watches from a distance. It’s a partnership rooted in His presence. The triune God doesn’t just commission—He accompanies.
And there’s more: mission reflects God’s own relational nature. Just as the Father sent the Son, and the Father and Son sent the Spirit, so now the Spirit sends the church. We’re caught up into that ongoing movement of God toward the world. Our mission isn’t a side task—it’s part of how we reflect the God in whose image we were made and by whose grace we’ve been saved.
So when we go—into our neighborhoods, workplaces, and even across cultures—we don’t go on our own. We go as ambassadors of the triune God. And we go knowing He is with us, behind us, and ahead of us.
From Theology to Practice
We’ve seen how this study of God’s plural language and triune nature touches every major part of our Christian life—our worship, our identity, our salvation, and our mission. But good theology doesn’t just stay in the mind or heart. It works itself out in daily habits, in how we read the Bible, how we pray, how we view the church, and how we live in community.
So how do we take everything we’ve explored and begin to live it out in real, concrete ways?
Let me offer a few practical takeaways that can help you carry this from reflection into action:
1. How We Read The Bible
One of the biggest lessons from this study is the importance of reading the Bible as a single, unified story. When we encountered plural language in Genesis and Isaiah, we didn’t isolate those verses. We interpreted them in light of the entire biblical narrative—especially what’s revealed in the New Testament. That’s not creative reinterpretation; that’s how Scripture is meant to be read. The Bible isn't a disconnected collection of religious sayings. It’s a cohesive revelation. So when you come across a difficult or unclear verse, ask: How does this fit into the broader storyline of Scripture? What do clearer passages teach that might help shed light on this one? This is a key principle of interpretation: the unclear is interpreted in light of the clear, not the other way around.
This means we don’t just ask what Moses understood, or Isaiah saw—we also ask what Jesus taught, what the apostles affirmed, and how the Holy Spirit continues to lead the church into truth. Scripture interprets Scripture. And because all of it comes from the same divine author, we trust that its unity is not imposed—it’s inherent. In practical terms, this means becoming better readers. It means slowing down, asking better questions, and being willing to hold tension until we see how the pieces fit. It also means letting the New Testament speak back into the Old, not to override it, but to complete what was always there.
2. Embrace Mystery with Humility
The Trinity is a mystery—not in the sense of being illogical or contradictory, but in the older, biblical sense of being infinitely greater than us. God is not a puzzle to be solved but a reality to be reverently received. And this doctrine, more than most, reminds us that we are dealing with a God who surpasses the limits of human categories.
As J.B. Phillips once put it: “A God small enough to be understood is not big enough to be worshiped.” That line captures the heart of this point. If we could fully explain God—wrap our minds around every detail—He wouldn’t be God. We can know Him truly, because He has revealed Himself. But we can’t know Him exhaustively. And that’s not a flaw in our theology—that’s a feature of His greatness.
The doctrine of the Trinity teaches us to live with reverent humility. It tells us that even with the full witness of Scripture, some things about God will remain beyond our reach. And that’s not a reason to disengage or doubt—it’s an invitation to worship. Mystery, rightly understood, doesn’t push us away from God; it draws us closer in awe and dependence.
Practically, this shapes our posture as we read Scripture, talk about theology, or disciple others. It keeps us from arrogance. It reminds us that God is not the sum total of our definitions or diagrams. And it helps us become more patient with the tension we sometimes feel in the text. Not everything has to be reduced to a tidy system. Some truths are meant to be held, not mastered.
In the end, embracing mystery is not a retreat from truth—it’s a recognition of its depth. And the Trinity is perhaps the most vivid reminder that the God who made us is not only relational and redemptive—but also infinitely beyond us.
3. Let Theology Lead to Doxology
The goal of theology is not just information, it’s adoration. The more we come to understand who God is, the more reason we have to worship. That’s why the study of the Trinity, as deep and complex as it is, should never stop at the level of the intellect. It’s meant to move the heart, stir our affections, and lead us into deeper praise. Don’t let this remain abstract. Let it shape how you relate to God in the most ordinary moments. The next time you pray, pause and reflect on what’s actually happening: you are approaching the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Spirit. That’s not a formula—it’s the reality of how relationship with God works. You’re being drawn into communion with the triune God.
Let that deepen your prayer life. Let it bring confidence when you feel weak, clarity when you feel scattered, and joy when you feel dry. You’re not trying to get God’s attention—you’ve already been welcomed into His presence by the Son, and the Spirit is helping you speak even when you don’t have the words (Romans 8:26–27).
And let this truth shape how you sing, how you read Scripture, how you take communion, and how you gather with the church. Doxology is not just music—it’s the overflow of a heart that sees more of God and can’t help but respond.
So let theology lead you there. Not to pride, not to cold precision—but to wonder. Let it shape your posture before God: humble, joyful, dependent, and grateful. Because the more we see of Him, the more we’ll want to say: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory.”
4. Reflect the Trinity in Community
If we are made in the image of the triune God, then our relationships should reflect something of His relational nature. The Father, Son, and Spirit are distinct persons, yet completely united in love, purpose, and will. That unity-in-diversity is not just a theological detail—it’s a model for how we are meant to live together.
This applies first to the church. We are not just individuals with shared beliefs—we are a body. We have different gifts, personalities, and backgrounds, but we’re called to be one. Jesus prayed that His followers would be united “even as we are one” (John 17:22). That’s not a vague call for niceness—it’s a call to reflect the very nature of God in how we relate to one another.
In practical terms, this means pursuing unity not by erasing differences but by learning to love across them. It means resolving conflict with grace, speaking truth in love, bearing with each other in patience, and valuing mutual submission. It’s not easy—but it’s essential. Because when the church walks in that kind of relational integrity, we show the world something about the God who made us.
This also applies to our families and friendships. In marriage, parenting, friendship, and community, we have opportunities to reflect the self-giving love and mutual honor that exists within the Trinity. The way we listen, forgive, serve, and prioritize others becomes a living testimony to the God in whose image we were made.
To reflect the Trinity in community is not to try to replicate divine perfection—it’s to seek relational wholeness that mirrors God's nature. It’s not about uniformity, but about unity rooted in love. The more our relationships are shaped by that divine pattern, the more our lives become a witness to the world—and the more we live in line with the image we were created to bear.
5. Rest in Trinitarian Security
One of the most practical and deeply comforting truths that flows from a Trinitarian understanding of salvation is this: your security doesn’t rest on you—it rests on God. And not just God in a general sense, but on the united work of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Your salvation isn’t fragile because it doesn’t depend on your strength, your consistency, or your emotions. It depends on the eternal, coordinated work of the triune God.
The Father chose you in love before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4–5). Your salvation wasn’t random or reactive. It was part of His eternal purpose and will.
The Son came and accomplished redemption for you through His death and resurrection (Romans 5:8; Galatians 2:20). He didn't just make salvation possible—He made it personal. He bore your sin and gave you His righteousness.
The Spirit applies that finished work to your life—He regenerates your heart, opens your eyes to the gospel, and seals you until the day of redemption (Ephesians 1:13–14; Romans 8:16). He’s the daily presence of God with you, reminding you that you belong to Him.
That’s not a partial effort. That’s complete, personal, intentional salvation. Each person of the Trinity is fully invested in your rescue and renewal. That kind of foundation doesn’t shift with your circumstances or emotions.
So when you feel weak, remember the Son intercedes for you (Romans 8:34). When you feel uncertain, remember the Spirit bears witness with your spirit that you are a child of God (Romans 8:16). And when you feel unworthy, remember the Father’s love didn’t begin with your goodness—it began before time, and it will not fail.
Rest in that. Let that truth quiet your fears and ground your confidence. You are not holding on to God more tightly than He is holding on to you. Your salvation began with Him, is sustained by Him, and will be completed by Him. And that’s as secure as it gets.
Common Questions
We've covered a lot—biblical patterns, theological interpretations, practical applications—but conversations about the Trinity almost always raise follow-up questions. And that’s a good thing. Wrestling with big truths is part of growing in faith and understanding.
Before we wrap up, let’s take a moment to address some of the most common questions people ask about this topic. These aren’t just academic—they come up in small groups, in conversations with skeptics, and often in our own minds when we’re trying to make sense of what we believe.
"Doesn’t this compromise monotheism?"
No, it doesn’t. Christians are—and always have been—firmly monotheistic. As we’ve seen throughout this study, Scripture consistently affirms that there is only one God. The Trinity doesn’t introduce multiple gods into the equation; it describes the one true God as existing eternally in three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. These persons are distinct, but they are not separate. They are united in essence, will, and nature.
We’ve already seen that this is not a contradiction but a tension the Bible introduces intentionally. The same passages that speak in plural terms also affirm God’s singular action. The same Scripture that uses “Let us” also follows with “So God created.” This isn’t theological confusion—it’s consistent with what the full canon reveals about who God is.
So when someone says, “That sounds like three gods,” it’s fair to respond: not if you take Scripture on its own terms. As we noted earlier, the Shema in Deuteronomy 6:4—“The LORD our God, the LORD is one”—is foundational, and nothing in the doctrine of the Trinity undermines that. Instead, the doctrine develops the implications of that oneness, in light of God’s self-revelation in both Old and New Testaments.
If the math analogy helps, think of it this way: it’s not 1 + 1 + 1 = 3; it’s 1 × 1 × 1 = 1. Each person is fully God, but there is still only one God. That may be difficult to fully grasp, but as we discussed earlier, mystery doesn’t equal contradiction. It simply means that God is more complex than our categories, and Scripture invites us to accept that tension with humility, not suspicion.
So no—this doesn’t compromise monotheism. It clarifies it in light of God’s full self-revelation.
"Why didn’t God just make this clear from the beginning?"
Because that’s not how God chose to reveal Himself. As we touched on earlier, God’s revelation is progressive—He unfolds truth over time, in stages that correspond to humanity’s ability to grasp and respond. This doesn’t mean earlier revelation was false or incomplete in content—it means it was partial in clarity, pointing forward to greater fullness. In the Old Testament context, where Israel was surrounded by cultures filled with competing deities and polytheistic mythology, the central emphasis had to be on God's oneness. That’s why the Shema—“The LORD our God, the LORD is one”—was so central. Before anything else could be understood, Israel needed to know that there is one true God, unrivaled and indivisible.
Only after that foundation was laid—and after centuries of affirming and defending monotheism—did God begin to unveil more about His internal life. That fuller self-revelation comes through the incarnation of the Son and the outpouring of the Spirit in the New Testament. It's in the life, death, resurrection, and teachings of Jesus that we begin to see clearly what was always present but only hinted at before. In that sense, the plural language in Genesis and other passages wasn’t meant to explain the Trinity in full—it was meant to leave a trace, a tension, a question that would one day find its answer in Christ. The complexity of God’s nature wasn’t hidden arbitrarily; it was held in reserve until the right moment—when the fullness of time had come (Galatians 4:4).
"How can I explain this to someone who's skeptical?"
Start with humility. This isn’t about winning a debate—it’s about bearing witness to truth we ourselves hold with reverence. Acknowledge upfront that the Trinity is not something Christians believe because it’s easy to explain, but because it’s what Scripture reveals.
You don’t have to re-teach all the ground we’ve covered—just refer to the basics: the Bible teaches that God is one, that the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Spirit is God, and that these are not interchangeable roles or modes, but distinct persons who share one divine essence. That’s not a contradiction—it’s complexity beyond our full grasp.
Avoid relying on analogies too much. As mentioned earlier, every analogy for the Trinity breaks down at some point. Instead, you can say, “There’s mystery here, but it’s not blind faith. It’s rooted in a long biblical pattern, affirmed across centuries of Christian thought, and held because the witness of Scripture leaves us no simpler alternative.”
Then, move to what matters most: the relational implications. You can ask, “If God is love, what kind of God must He be in Himself to be love before there was anything else?” That question often opens more space than a technical answer. Sometimes the best entry point for skeptics is not the structure of the doctrine but the God it reveals—a God who is personal, relational, and actively involved in both creation and redemption.
Conclusion
So, if God is one, why does He speak as "us"? Because Scripture reveals a God who is one in essence and yet exists in perfect relational unity—Father, Son, and Spirit. What seems like a grammatical curiosity is actually a theological doorway. The Old Testament hints at it; the New Testament confirms it.
These plural references aren’t errors—they’re intentional markers, placed at key turning points in redemptive history to prepare us for a fuller unveiling of who God is. A God who creates, redeems, and indwells—not as three gods, but as one God in three persons.
As Spurgeon said, we shouldn’t rest content until we know something of the “us” who made us. But don’t stop at knowing about Him. Press into knowing Him—Father, Son, and Spirit. Let the reality of who He is reshape your worship, reframe your identity, ground your security, and send you out on mission.
Thanks for joining me—keep reading closely, and keep trusting the One whose Word speaks truth at every level.
See you next week.
