I was called "Jack" by many friends in the Worcester area where I grew up, but when I went to college it seemed easier for professors to call me "John," so I kept that name as my classmates became used to that name. It seemed official and formal, but it also represented a break into a world where I as an adult could make my own choices.
However, recent prayers and my mother's statements are causing me to go deeper into my prayer. The giving of names is very important. Am I to respect the desires of the family in giving me my name? I also wonder what name God wants to call me in prayer. I never asked. As names go deep into our identity and we are always moving to become our true selves, am I "Jack" or "John?" I have to see how this develops.
My mother never used nicknames for her children, my brother was always Patrick and never Pat. Names mattered, and the name she'd given in love was the one she used. I wonder if this is why I like the passage from Isaiah: He numbered the stars and called each one by name.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the further thoughts. Names are really worth pondering. They can reveal so much.
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