Dad! He Called Me a Name!!!

"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Is quite possibly the biggest load of bull I've ever heard.

I can't tell you how many times on trips to the grocery store, the mall, Colorado, I've heard those words, "He/She called me a name!" from the back seat.

Names can hurt, they can also heal. Names eminate or erode our personality. Names bring our person into the conversation whether we're present or not. Have you ever heard gossip about someone and there they were in your present thought even though they were miles away? By the way, stop listening to gossip and do something else.

I preached a sermon series on how we're named without our permission at birth, then, we get even more names. Some make us laugh, "Ogre," and "Wildman," are two that make me chuckle at how stupid I used to be. "Bud," and, "Honey," are ones that make me swell with pride because they're from some of my favorite people. "Fatso," and, "Loser," have created some pretty big fights in days gone by. We don't choose our names, they're chosen. Well, my son, Connor chose his own nickname, "Rufus," and for some reason he likes it and it just fits!

I met a lady aout 8 years ago, her name is not important in this instance because she gave me the permission to share this:

"When I was born I was given the name, "Mary," like Jesus' mother. I bounced around throughout my growing up times getting different names. When I was 7 I learned my name was, "Stupid," because I could not read very well. I didn't know that it was dyslexia. No one cared. My mom was on husband 4 and he told me my name was, "get the hell out of the way." I understood I was in the way. In my attempt to be, "loved," I ended up getting the name, "slut," in High School. I found the way to forget about that name by choosing the name, "Drunk." It didn't work for me because it caused me to take on all sorts of different names I can't write about to my Pastor. But none were good. I wanted to say thank you for reminding me of my real name, "Beloved."

I can't tell you how much that hand written note means to me. It's in a page of my Bible that was presented to me at my ordination. I don't want to forget my job is to remind those who can't feel love that it's there and it's their's.

I know a lot of your names. I hope to meet more folks and learn more names. But I know that someone gave you a name when you were born, like the name or not, it's yours. I know life has given you names that make you feel ashamed, proud, hurt, or angry. Those aren't your name!

When God looks at you He doesn't see names like: ugly, loser, fat, dumb, skinny, poor, rich, idiot, worthless, you fill in the next blank. God sees His, "Beloved."

So when you feel like it call out to your Father in Heaven, and He'll remind you of your real name, "Beloved." It's just too bad He doesn't pull the world over and spank the name caller. They're His, " Beloved," too.

"Mary," if you read this, and I think you will. Remember when you just wanted to be loved? You, sweet soul, in your brokenness learned that your name IS, "Beloved." In so doing, you reminded me it's my name too.