What's in a Name?

I was recently struck by something that may seem obvious to you, but stay with me. God does a lot of renaming in the Bible. People come up in the narrative and God decides to rename them. This is puzzling and somewhat ironic since God’s first marching orders to man was to name everything. Man must have done okay in naming the animals, but apparently we’ve botched the process of naming ourselves.

You see this all over the place. Abraham is the first and clearest example. Abram was not polysyllabic enough, it seems. Not to be left out, Sarai becomes Sarah. It skipped a generation, but then Jacob gets a new handle too: Israel. Funny that the name of the country was originally the name of the scheming, lace-panty grandson of Father Abraham, whose name meant “swindler, cheat, liar” appropriately enough. It even happens in the New Testament, when Jesus dubs Simon “Peter”. Later, Saul of Tarsus becomes Paul, wishing to avoid any unpleasant associations with the first king of Israel who was a bit off in the head. At least, until his head came off. But Paul, in his attempt to pursue humility, took a name meaning “little”, which may have also referenced his stature. Physically at least; in the annals of God, it’s another matter.

All very uninteresting, you might muse. Ever the cynic. Allow me another observation before a possible application. I’ve always enjoyed how names meant something in olden days. You never really get that very much nowadays except for Muslim names or African names with fifty letters and some weird punctuation like apostrophes and hyphens thrown in for color. What does “Tom” mean? Or “Phil”? “Jessica”? “Heather”? But “Abraham” means “Father of many” and “Sarah” means "princess," though the rename seems to imply that she would be mother of nations and kings (Genesis 17:15-16). Isaac means “He laughs” because of Sarah’s incredulous chuckle gave way to joyful giggling. We noted Jacob’s name, and it was changed to Israel since he struggled with God. Heck, even his brother Esau got into the act, thanks to his bountiful hair. “Peter” means “rock” and Jesus gives the meaning for this name change, explaining that the Church would be founded in some way upon Peter’s ministry and service. The point being, here, that the names said something about the person; they spoke of the person’s identity. Abraham became the father of a great nation, and spiritually the father of the Christians since his lineage included Christ, the Father of the new covenant. Peter became the rock of the early church, acting as a leader and apostle, dedicated until his death.

I have a name that originates in the Bible, which means “Beloved”, but by and large our names mean nothing to us anymore. They don’t speak about us or describe who we are; they’re just devices for differentiation. But names used to not only tell us what we were to call the person, they told us about the person as well, which is probably why people were given their final names later in life, not at birth. Which leads me to my final Scriptural references.

Revelation 2: 17. “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will…give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.”

God’s not done renaming people. When we stand before Him and are shriven of our earthly flesh, purified in Jesus’ holy presence and burnt clean of imperfection, to each of us will He give a new name. And based on His naming practices in the past, the name He will give will describe us. This passage leapt off the page when I first encountered it; I have always fancied that the name He’ll bestow will be related to my unique relationship with Him. For each of us will have our entirely original relationship with God. He does not intend to subsume our personalities, to eradicate our individuality, but rather to perfect it by uniting it with the Source of meaning and life and personality Himself. Each of us will express our relationship with Him in our own way, in Heaven as we do on earth.

I also like that the new name is private. No one else will know but Him and me. No one else will impinge upon our intimacy, our connection. Like lovers have a pet name for each other that only emerge during their private times, I and God will share our private joy even in the midst of the fellowship of the saints.

Because I’m looking for a new name. Not that my old name doesn’t suit me, but I associate it with my past, the failings and sins that haunt me to this moment, that dog my steps, thoughts, and words and shall until my life is over. If I were to answer the question God asked Jacob, when He wanted to hear Jacob confess who he was, what he had done, my name(s) would be different but equally hopeless and shameful. God wants to change our name, but we have to acknowledge our name first. We have to realize that our identity as we have managed it is hopeless, and allow God to rename us, change our identity.

So I eagerly await the day when I’ll turn over the white stone and read the name God wants to know me by, who He thinks I am and who He’s making me to be. The name will be an identity unique and united with Jesus with unadulterated harmony and perfection.

What’s in a name, the Bard once queried. Who you are and who you will be is the answer. So what’s your name?