One of the movies that always pops up on TV during an election year is “The Candidate,” with Robert Redford. I saw it years ago, and caught it again on cable last fall. It’s the story of a young, idealistic lawyer in California who is persuaded to run for the Senate. As the movie unfolds, he learns the ins and outs of politics. Along the way, he makes some compromises and mistakes – both moral and political – but he ends up, at the end, against all probability, winning.

In the last scene, his campaign manager, played by Peter Boyle, comes into his hotel room to break the news that he’s won the election. And Redford looks at him and after a long moment, utters just five words.

“What do we do now?”

Fade to black and the credits roll.

I was reminded of that last line when I read over the gospel for this Trinity Sunday. This was a question that may well have been on the minds and lips of the apostles.

At this moment in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus has been raised back to life. He has appeared to the disciples in surprising and miraculous ways. And as his earthly work ends, Christ gives his followers the most daunting challenge imaginable – to baptize and convert the entire world. They must have wondered, “What do we do now?”

Who will we turn to?

How will we survive?

But Christ has given them an answer.

“Behold,” he tells them. “I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

It is a beautiful testament of hope — for the disciples, and for the world.

But to live in this world is to have our hope constantly being tested, tried, dashed.

It is a world where more of us are worried about how to pay the bills or balance the budget. We wonder about when the next round of layoffs will be announced, or what to tell a teenager who doesn’t believe in curfews, or how to start over when a marriage ends. There are the headaches and heartaches of everyday life that lead us to ask, in frustration or fear:

“What do we do now?”

This weekend, I read a story in the Boston Globe about a man who asked that question, and is living the answer.

His name is Fr. James Field. He’s 58 years old, a pastor at a parish in Melrose, Massachusetts. And he is dying of pancreatic cancer.

It has been an arduous and difficult time for him. Some days he is doubled over in pain. He has to wear a mask when he visits the sick. Some Sundays, he can’t give out communion. He’s also writing about his illness online, in a blog.

Fr. Field could have retired or gone to a hospice. But instead, he has chosen to stay with his parish, to celebrate mass, to preach, to hear confessions. To be present and to share his final journey with his parishioners, and the wider world.

“I’m a teacher,” he told the Globe, “and this is a teachable moment.” Every day, Fr. Field is a living homily about suffering, about hope, about faith.

As he put it, “This is a time when you have to figure out, do you believe this or not.” He said, “You’ve been saying this your whole life. Is this really the truth or not?”

And Fr. Field is saying, yes.

Resoundingly. Repeatedly. Insistently.

One reason he is able to do that is because, in the middle of all he is going through, Fr. Field has the blessed assurance that we heard just a few moments ago.

He has Christ.

And so do we.

“I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

That sentence concludes the gospel of Matthew – and, in fact, it beautifully underscores how Matthew began his gospel. In the very first chapter, Matthew told us that the savior of the world would be called “Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.”

Now we are assured that He is with us – always.

Christ’s words tell us, on this Trinity Sunday, that the triune God – the Father who created us, the Son who redeemed us, and the Spirit who continues to sanctify the world – remains forever a part of our human struggle. Here, the God who loved us so much that He became one of us offers something astounding. To a worried and anxious world, He gives us consolation. And encouragement.

He says: I understand. Don’t worry. Begin this great work. Change the world. You can. And you will. Because I will not abandon you. Ever.

He says: I will walk with you. I will pray with you. I will be with you.

This Trinity Sunday, we are challenged to remember that. And to remember what uplifts and sustains people like Fr. Field and so many others.

It is a promise kept.

So, hold on to this wondrous truth: the boundless love shared by the Trinity…the love that keeps those tongues of fire from Pentecost burning, the love that created, saved and uplifts us all…that love will never stop.

We don’t need to ask “What do we do now?”

God’s love has already answered that question. It answers all questions, and calms all fears.

Because what began with just one word, Emmanuel, echoes now through all time.

Not only is God with us.

He is with us until the end of the age.