Three Visitors and the Evolving Image of God

A Living Text from a Long History

One of the really fascinating things about the Hebrew scriptures—particularly when compared to the New Testament—is the breadth of time they cover. These ancient texts weren’t composed in a single generation or even a single era. They span centuries. And that long arc allows us to watch ideas grow and evolve, including how ancient people imagined and understood God.

Genesis 18 gives us a beautiful and strange little window into that evolving story. Abraham and Sarah are visited by Yahweh, who appears in the form of three men. This moment lands somewhere between earlier depictions of a Divine Council, with God surrounded by lesser divine beings, and later images of the Angel of the Lord—God’s personal emissary to earth.

The Scene in Genesis 18

The story unfolds quickly. Abraham sees three men approaching and runs to greet them. He bows low and says, "If I have found favor in your eyes, my Lord, do not pass your servant by."

Interestingly, the text moves fluidly between singular and plural language. Abraham addresses "my Lord" in the singular, but then offers water and food to "you all," switching back to the plural. It's a narrative detail that nudges us toward something deeper: these three are somehow one, and one is somehow three.

Is This the Trinity?

It's no surprise that Christians have long seen a glimmer of the Trinity here. Three figures called by the divine name? Father, Son, and Spirit, perhaps? That’s certainly a possible reading, though almost certainly not what the original writer had in mind.

Instead, what we likely see here is a reflection of an earlier Hebrew conception of Yahweh—one where God operates within a Divine Council. This is the same context in which God says, "Let us make humans in our image," not because there are many gods creating, but because Yahweh is addressing God's heavenly court.

Psalm 82 echoes this worldview: "God has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment."

The Shift Toward Monotheism

Over time, as Israel's theology matures and monotheism becomes central, the idea of these lesser gods (Elohim) gives way to something more nuanced. These beings are no longer deities in their own right but become messengers—angels (malak in Hebrew).

That evolution plays out across the scriptures, and by the time we arrive in Exodus, we find a very different approach to divine presence. We're told that no one can see God and live. God even hides Moses in a cleft in the rock, allowing him only to glimpse "where God has just been."

So how do we reconcile that with Yahweh dropping in for lunch with Abraham?

Enter: The Angel of the Lord

This is where the idea of "the Angel of the Lord" becomes crucial. In later texts, this character shows up with all the authority and presence of Yahweh. People speak to the angel as if they’re speaking to God. The angel speaks and acts with divine authority. And yet—no one dies.

The Angel of the Lord functions as Yahweh’s personal messenger, fully representing God in the world. It fits the ancient understanding of messengers carrying the full weight of the king’s command. To encounter the messenger is, in a real sense, to encounter the one who sent them.

That idea makes room for humans to encounter God—and to survive.

A Glimpse into an Evolving Faith

So what exactly is happening in Genesis 18? Maybe it's the Divine Council. Maybe it's an early appearance of the Angel of the Lord. Maybe it's a bit of both. But either way, what we get is a powerful moment where the divine becomes tangible.

It's a reminder that our ancestors in faith were always trying to make sense of God’s presence in the world. And in many ways, we still are. Our understanding of the divine is still growing, still unfolding. And that, perhaps, is one of the most faithful things we can admit.

What if being people of faith doesn’t mean having all the answers, but holding space for the mystery of a God who shows up—sometimes as fire, sometimes as whisper, sometimes as three strangers under a tree?

May we remain curious. May we stay open. May we welcome the sacred, however it appears.