"I Know You by Name"

Luke 3:15-16, 21-22; Isaiah 43:1-7

 

How can picking a name be so hard? From the moment Susan knew the life within her would be a girl, she and John had argued over the appropriate name. Their decision would last a lifetime. John was very practical. The child was their first-born, therefore the name must continue the family tradition. Why not Susan Fritz (for his father) Rollenhead? While Susan was flattered by her husband’s intensions, she felt  the name sounded like something that should be followed by a title, such as Attorney at Law. While the thought thrilled Susan, the name did not. She wanted her child to be named after her two grandmothers, Mary Margaret Rollenhead. John said that was a name for a nun.

Books were purchased and discarded. Rachel Rebecca Rollenhead? Too many r’s. Samantha Teresa Rollenhead? Too many syllables. Jenny Lynn Rollenhead? Too country. Rickie Lee Rollenhead? Too rock and roll. Finally in exasperation Susan screamed, “The problem is your last name. Nothing goes well with Rollenhead!” John reminded Susan changing their last name might solve the problem but would most likely injure some folks they dearly loved.

Our scriptures this morning are all about names. The writer of Second Isaiah had quite a task. For centuries the residents of Jerusalem were recognized by everyone.  Their city stood in the middle of the known world. If you wanted to go to Babylon from Cairo or Antioch, the road ran through Jerusalem. The centerpiece of Jerusalem was the magnificent temple. The city’s library contained masterworks that reached back to the time of David. But that was before the exile. The mighty hand of Babylon crushed Jerusalem, turning the walls to dust and disassembling the Temple brick by brick. Those not massacred were placed in chains and dragged across hundreds of miles of desert to become prisoners along the Euphrates. Their city was ruined, their culture destroyed and their God discredited. For a generation they sat in utter disgrace. At the end of a generation their names were forgotten. In forty years the Hebrew people had gone from being the center of the universe to a tiny, miserable and insignificant band of uprooted men and women standing on the margins of a hostile empire. To these people Isaiah dared to bring word from Yahweh. “Do not fear, despite what you have become, I have redeemed you. I have called you by name and you are mine.” These tender words struck a chord in the hearts of a people who believed they were forgotten. God’s word identified them as more than a particular family, a particular tribe or even a particular nation. They were claimed as part a kingdom beyond flesh and blood.

The exiles in Babylon were chained to an ancient belief in a God who was confined to the Temple. When the Temple was destroyed and the survivors exiled, the relics of the past crumbled. Tribal systems disintegrated because there was no land.  Religious beliefs collapsed because there was no Temple. Even national pride disappeared because there was no Jerusalem.  All they had was the voice of a prophet who sang, “Fear not! You are precious in the eyes of God.”

For many folks three questions haunt us for a lifetime. Who am I? Where do I belong? What makes me worthy? During my ministry I have spent a lot of time listening to folks reminisce their past endeavors. They will begin by telling me the wonderful things they accomplished. But as I get to know them better, and they begin to trust me with their stories, I can hear the doubt creep into their voice. Time after time I hear an ancient voice quiver, “If I had it to do all over again, there are some things I hope I would do differently.” From the moment we are born we search for our name, our identity. From the moment we are born we reach for something that often seems just beyond our grasp. From the moment we are born we grapple to live up to a name, or a reputation, or the expectations of others. But worst of all we struggle live up to our own expectations. Who are we? Where do we belong? What makes us worthy?

What if we changed the questions? Instead of asking “Who are we”, what if we concentrated on “Whose are we? To whom do we belong? Who makes us worthy?” The writer of Isaiah had the nerve to say to a generation with no home and no hope, “Do not remember what just happened and be preoccupied with past failures. Consider this.  I am about to do a new thing! Do you not perceive it?”

The exiles in Babylon got so caught up in who they could have been they forgot to whom they had always belonged. They were created out of a promise to Abraham. “I will make you a great nation.” They were rescued with a promise to Moses, “I will give to your people a new land.” They were inspired by promises sung by David, “I will be your shepherd.” But they forgot the promises and along the way, they even forgot their name. What does one do when you have forgotten who you are?

In 1989 I was serving a church in Virginia Beach but my heart was beginning to wander. I had been a campus minister, an associate minister and pastor of a small church. I felt it was time to make a name for myself. I wanted a big steeple. I wanted to be the keynote at major conferences. I wanted publishers to ask me to write a book. I had big dreams. So that year, with my family looking at me as if I had lost my mind, we packed up and headed to a fairly large church in the middle of West Texas. It was there people would learn my last name was Andrews.

We arrived in January. Have you ever been to West Texas in the middle of the winter? I have no idea why people want to go to the moon. All they have to do is visit Monahans or Pecos, or Van Horn. At least in San Angelo has a lake, and you don’t even have to be Jesus to walk across it. I had never seen such a dry barren land. Then two months after we arrived, Deb decided she wanted to visit a relative who lived in Eastern New Mexico. On that trip I learned why the people in Carlsbad are so proud of their little cave. At least underground it’s too dark to see where they live.

I had had it with wind, sand, and the lack of anything green. I had lost sight of why I felt called to ministry. That is when I discovered  that God remembers our name.

 We attended worship that Sunday at the Presbyterian Church in Carlsbad. The minister was away on vacation and the Shannon Webster, Stated Clerk of the Presbytery filled the pulpit. Shannon didn’t look like any minister I had ever seen. He wore a beautiful stole over his open collared plaid shirt. To finish off the ensemble he wore jeans and his Sunday boots. I don’t remember the sermon but I shall never forget his benediction. He grabbed a guitar and sang a verse from a song based on Isaiah 43. It was a song i had sung a thousand times without ever hearing the words.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;

For I will be near thee, they troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress. 

I went to Shannon, and asked him how he knew I needed to hear that verse. He smiled and said, “Sometimes we all forget whose we are.” 

Remember the Rollenhead family? Well, the glorious day came and a beautiful child was born. Not wanting to forever call her baby girl Rollenhead, Susan and John finally agreed on a name. Four weeks later, the proud parents stood before their congregational family and celebrated their faith at the baptism of the child. The minister turned to the young couple and asked, “What is the name of your child.” Together they responded, “Christina Marie”. The minister took the infant into her arms, dipped her hand into the holy water and touched the child’s forehead. “Christina Marie Child of God, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.” The minister then whispered to the child, “Do not fear. I have called you by name, and you are mine.”

Each of us bears the same last name, “Child of God”.  From baptism to benediction, that is our holy epitaph.

To God be the Glory.    Amen.