When You Know Your Name

One Sunday after church I was standing with my mom and one of my friends walked up. As we discussed the topic of the day (I’m sure it was sports related), my friend called me “Mike” a few times. My mother turned to look at me and gave me that mom look that told me I’d better listen to what she said next.

“Mike? I didn’t name you ‘Mike’ I named you ‘Michael.’ I don’t remember giving anyone permission to call you ‘Mike.’” For my mother, I had one name – the name she had given to me. That was my name and no one had permission to call me any other name. What’s more, I didn’t have permission to respond to any other name. The name she had given me was “Michael.” The only name I was to respond to  was “Michael.”

I thought about this the other day when I was reading about the crisis of identity in our culture. A lot of people, according to this article, were struggling with knowing who they are. These individuals couldn’t find their identity and what they were to do in the world. I thought that was interesting because I’ve always known who I was. My mom and dad told me who I was. They started calling me by my name before I knew what my name meant. I knew whenever either one of my parents said “Michael” I was expected to pay attention. 

This, of course, led me to my next realization. We don’t get to name ourselves. Someone has to give us our name. We have a large ministry to the deaf at Brentwood Baptist Church. For that reason, I learned enough sign language to get along in a casual conversation. After a few conversations with the deaf congregation, I noticed a particular gesture whenever they talked about me. I found out the deaf community had given me a “sign name.” In deaf culture, the deaf give you your sign name. They take your name and their experience with you and combine it into a shorthand sign they always use when they're talking about you. You can’t give yourself a sign name. It will never stick. The deaf have to give it to you. Likewise, we can’t give ourselves a nickname. Something has to happen in a certain way and we’re forever marked by that moment with a nickname. 

Growing up in an evangelical tradition, the emphasis every Sunday was convincing those in attendance to give their lives to Christ. Jesus could come at any time (I grew up in the height of the Cold War) and when He returns those who don’t have Jesus in their hearts will be thrown into hell forever. Once someone came to Christ, we didn’t know what to do with them so we told them to find a pew, sit down and wait for Jesus to come back. Churches became glorified bus stops with all of us sitting around waiting for Jesus to come back and load us up on the glory bus for heaven. 

Salvation is so much more than this. In the moment of redemption, the whole person is consumed by grace. Yes, our sins are forgiven, but more than that, we’re made into new persons and we’re given a name. When we read Scriptures, those who encounter God testify to that encounter with a name change. Abram becomes Abraham. Jacob becomes Israel. Simon becomes Peter and Saul becomes Paul. Becoming a follower of Christ means you get your name. Jesus tells us who we are and no one has permission to call us by any other name nor do we have permission to respond to any other name. Jesus has named us. The shepherd knows His sheep and He knows them by name. 

I see this a lot in young pastors. Because they haven’t done the soul work required to discover and understand their Christ given identity, they don’t know who they are. In their uncertainty, they look to the church to tell them who they are or worse, they try to be whatever the church wants them to be. Both of these end in disaster. A healthy pastor is able to say, “This is who I am and this is how I can best serve the church.” Structures and systems can then be set up to support the pastor in leading the church and opening venues for the membership to engage their own gifts, talents, abilities, and resources. 

But only if the pastor knows who they are. 

The same is true for all of us. If we don’t know who we are we try on identities like clothes, piling up the unflattering, mis-fitting and uncomfortable in the closet of our minds. This clutter takes up a lot of space in our souls and serves as a constant reminder of our failures to get our lives together. Trial and error is a terrible way to try to discover and define our identities. 

In Revelation, Jesus promises the believers in Pergamum He will give them a white stone with their name on it. This name is known only to Jesus and the believer. In the deepest parts of our salvation, Jesus gives us our name. This is the moment where He tells every believer,”This is who you are and this is the purpose for which you were created. Now, live that freedom.”

This is who we are. We can’t name ourselves. We are named by Christ. We are fully ourselves only in Him. We know the empowered focus of our lives only in Christ. At this moment, we hear the name He has given to us. No one has been given permission to call us anything else nor do we have permission to respond to any other name. 

We know who we are only in Christ. If we don’t know who we are, it’s because we’re asking the wrong people or looking in the wrong places. 

This essay was first posted in Scot McKnight’s newsletter.