I remember growing up and not always liking my name very much. It wasn't that I didn't like the name "Katie", more so that "Katie" was such a common name and lacked the uniqueness I craved. All through grade school and high school there was at least one other Katie in my classes and I often had to be identified with the first initial of my last name. It was normal for me to be walking down the hallway and hear my name called out only to turn around and find out that the shout was for the other Katie walking behind me. I longed to be distinguished from the other girls who shared my name and sometimes thought about howdifficult it would be to officially change my name on governmental records. Though twenty-four years later my name never changed, it did find some of the uniqueness that I often desired.
The past six months I have lived in a place in which "Katie" is no longer popular or familiar to the people I live among. The pronunciation is no longer "kay-tea", rather "kah-tea". It is also very rare for me to say my name out loud and have another person spell it correctly. It has been spelled "Katty", "Kathy", "Katy", "Katier", and "Kathie" (to list a few). I assure you that now when I walk down the street and hear my name, I know for sure that it's for me. I no longer have to use my last initial to identify myself or distinguish myself from the rest. It's funny, though, that I finally have a name that separates me from the majority of the population and now I sometimes find myself wanting a name that is more normal. I sometimes desire a name that fits in more and that wouldn't cause a twenty minute conversation about how to pronounce and spell it.
Perhaps part of the reason that
I'm never content whether my name blends in or sticks out is because I wrongly associate what people call me with who I am. Maybe in the States I thought that if my name had been more unique I would automatically be a more unique, memorable person. Maybe in Peru I think that if my name would blend in more I would automatically be more accepted as a foreigner. Maybe all along I've been putting my value and worth in what other people think of me...and what I think of myself.Regardless of whether my name is normal or foreign, my identity does not change. The truth
is that my identity is in Jesus Christ and what he has done on the cross. Because of that, I have value, worth, and meaning. Because of what he has done, I have purpose and significance. Because of Christ, I am called by name and given identity. In the book of Isaiah, the Israelites continually fall in and out of sin, but the Lord assures them of their identity in chapter 43 when it says, "But now, this is what the Lord says- he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: 'Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." The same is true for you and for me. Like the Israelites, we are not redeemed or summoned by our own works, but by the grace of the Lord. We are given value because he chooses to call us by name and keep us as his own.
A few weeks ago I went to Starbucks in Lima and they spelt my name correctly for the first time since I arrived in Peru. Though I doubt if the next time I say my name I will get the same result, it still was a reminder that I am always perfectly known and loved by the One who formed me and called me into life.
Read Psalm 139 if you have a moment today.
